Dyspraxia, also known as developmental coordination disorder, is something very few people have heard of.

When someone says “learning disability,” we usually think of dyslexia or autism. However, dyspraxia is also a learning disability, and it's a lot more common than people think.

In fact, six percent of the UK population has been diagnosed with the condition, with men being four times more likely to be diagnosed with dyspraxia than women.

By definition, dyspraxia is a neurodevelopmental disorder characterised by impaired coordination of physical movements as a result of brain messages not being accurately transmitted to the body.

If you haven't guessed by now, I have dyspraxia. I was diagnosed with it in Year Three at the ripe age of seven, and since then, it has become a part of my identity.

To begin with, I hated it. I couldn't understand why I was still struggling to tie my shoelaces or why I couldn't catch a ball for the life of me.

At playtime, I wanted to stay inside and read while my classmates ran around outside.

As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to terms with my dyspraxia, but that doesn’t mean it’s been easy.

What frustrates me the most is how little people know about it. Raising awareness about conditions like dyspraxia is crucial because understanding can foster patience and empathy.

Teachers, classmates, and even employers need to know that dyspraxia doesn’t make us “less than” or incapable — we just approach the world differently. It’s not a flaw; it’s a variation of how our brains work.

One thing I absolutely hate is the term “learning disability.” It implies we’re at a disadvantage, as if we’re broken and need fixing. But dyspraxia isn’t an obstacle — it’s just who we are.

I may struggle with tasks like handwriting or coordination, but I’ve found my strengths in creativity, resilience, and problem-solving.

In a UK context, with six percent of the population diagnosed, it’s time for greater awareness and support in schools and workplaces. We’re not asking for pity, just a fair chance to thrive in a society that often overlooks us.

We are more than our challenges, and it’s about time people saw that. Dyspraxia doesn’t define me; it shapes me. And I’m proud of who I’ve become.