As designers, we spend our careers trying to understand human behaviour. Yet roughly 20% of our audience experiences written language in a fundamentally different way. Understanding that difference doesn't just make us better at our jobs, it makes us more empathetic creators.

In this article, I want to unpack what dyslexia actually looks like in the brain, what reading feels like from my perspective, why dyslexic thinkers see the world differently, and how small, deliberate design decisions can transform accessibility for everyone.

I’m a Visual Designer and I have dyslexia.

The simplest way I can describe dyslexia is this:
Dyslexia is a difference in how the brain processes written language.

It isn't a measure of intelligence.
It isn't laziness.
It isn't a lack of education.

People with dyslexia can be incredibly intelligent, creative and capable, they simply process words differently.

Dyslexia is also remarkably common. Estimates suggest that between 10 - 20% of people have some degree of dyslexia, making it one of the most common learning differences.

Like most forms of neurodiversity, dyslexia exists on a spectrum.
Some people mainly struggle with spelling.
Others read slowly but have excellent comprehension.
Some have trouble recalling words during conversation.
No two dyslexic people experience it in exactly the same way.

When I look at a word, closely packed letters can feel like they're competing for my attention. The letters don't physically move, but recognition is delayed as my brain briefly cycles through possibilities.

The simulation above shows what I mean: the friction isn't in understanding information, but in getting through the words carrying it.

Most readers recognise familiar words instantly as complete visual patterns. My brain often has to break unfamiliar words into smaller chunks and map them to sounds first:
eg. Information becomes: In. for. ma. tion

Repeating this hundreds of times per minute turns reading into a constant stream of tiny puzzles. To speed up my reading, I often rely on a quick prediction strategy: I glance at a word's first and last letters, take in its length and shape, and infer what it is. While this speeds things up, it can easily backfire when my brain predicts the wrong word.

Irregular spellings (enough, through, colonel, yacht) mean phonics can only take you so far. Reading becomes a exhausting cycle of swapping between sounding words out, recognising shapes, and using context clues.

When the word is in your head, but the spelling isn't

Spelling is another area where dyslexia can create a strange disconnect.

I often know exactly what I want to say, and I know the word I want to use, but I can't always remember how the word is constructed. It's almost like knowing how a song sounds without being able to remember the exact notes. I can recognise the correct spelling when I see it, but retrieving that sequence of letters from memory can be surprisingly difficult.

Spell check helps, but it can create another challenge. When several suggested words look equally plausible, it's surprisingly easy to choose the wrong one without noticing. The sentence can still be grammatically correct and make complete sense, but the word isn't quite what I intended.

Many words which use the same sounds are spelt differently which can make it hard for a dyslexic to diagnose the correct sequence if they havent memorised the word. I might know the word definitely, for example, but when I try to spell it, my brain can get stuck on the sequence of the letters. Is it definately? Definitely? Something else entirely?

Over time, many dyslexic people develop coping strategies, like choosing simpler words they're confident they can spell, not because they don't know the original word, but because they can't reliably get it from my head onto the page.

Forgetting names

Perhaps the most frustrating challenge is word retrieval.

I can know everything about someone...
...their personality...
...where we met...
...what we've spoken about...
...and completely forget their name.

The same thing happens with technical terms, movie titles and everyday objects. The information is there. The label temporarily isn't.

Visualising words

Visualising words is almost impossible for me. Instead of seeing a complete word in my mind's eye, I usually catch only fragmented pieces, forcing me to write things down just to process them. Because dyslexia alters how the brain bridges sounds and letters, snapping a clear mental snapshot of a letter sequence is incredibly difficult. Sounding out words exhausts my working memory, leaving very little mental capacity to actually "see" the text.

Connecting letters with sounds

Because I struggle to visualise sequences of letters or numbers, I rely heavily on sound. I can’t easily picture the alphabet or my phone number in my head, instead, I recall them through speech rhythms or childhood songs.
This auditory memory is effective, but fragile; a single distraction forces me to restart the sequence from the beginning. To keep access codes or bank details in my head long enough to switch screens, I have to say them out loud. Vocalising turns abstract visual data into an audio track my brain can actually hold onto.

What happens in the brain?

Reading isn’t handled by a single "reading center" in the brain. Instead, it’s a high-speed conversation between several specialised regions, mostly located in the left hemisphere. One area recognises the visual shapes of letters, another decodes their sounds, and a third helps us pronounce the words. In fluent readers, these regions fire together seamlessly, allowing instant word recognition.

Neuroimaging reveals that in individuals with dyslexia, the traditional left-hemisphere language network doesn't synchronise seamlessly. The specialised regions are fully capable, but the neural pathways linking them struggle to pass information efficiently, making the reading process far less automatic and significantly more effortful.

However, the brain is remarkably adaptable. To compensate for reduced left-hemisphere activity, many dyslexic individuals show increased engagement in the right hemisphere. This alternative routing taps into areas responsible for visual-spatial reasoning, big-picture thinking, and complex pattern recognition, highlighting a distinct neurological style rather than a simple deficit.

Rather than simply lacking an ability, the brain often appears to compensate by developing strengths elsewhere.

Seeing the whole picture

One area of research I find particularly fascinating is something known as global spatial ability.

Rather than focusing first on individual details, many dyslexic people appear to process the overall structure of a scene remarkably well. Researchers have demonstrated this in a number of ways. One study used impossible objects/drawings that appear normal at first glance but couldn't physically exist in three-dimensional space.

Many dyslexic participants identified the impossible object more quickly than non-dyslexic participants. Another study presented participants with blurred images that gradually became clearer over time. Again, many dyslexic participants recognised the complete image earlier than expected.

Although researchers are still exploring exactly why this happens, one theory is that many dyslexic people naturally process information more globally before focusing on the finer details.

The dyslexic advantage
For years, most conversations about dyslexia focused only on what people struggled with. Fortunately, that's changing.

Although every dyslexic person is different, many excel at:

• Big-picture thinking
• Visual reasoning
• Creativity
• Pattern recognition
• Spatial awareness
• Systems thinking
• Problem solving

As a designer, this resonates deeply with me.

When someone describes a product, I don't start with explicit details like hex codes, specific typefaces, or UI buttons. Instead, I see a high-level, abstract vision of the entire experience, much like how Michelangelo could see the figure trapped inside the marble before he ever picked up a chisel.

I picture how the architecture connects, how the motion flows, and how the overall mood, including a broad feel for colour and typography, comes together as a living system. I rarely feel the urge to hunt for mood boards or reference designs first, because the vision is already fully formed in my mind's eye. I just want to dive in and start sculpting.

It’s why I’ve come to see dyslexia not as a limitation, but as a different operating system, a different way of processing and understanding the world.

The exact same spatial intuition takes over when I illustrate. I can easily translate a flat image into a 3D volume in my mind, mentally rotating objects, casting light from new angles, and dialling in complex perspectives, all without pulling up a single reference photo. Where a traditional process relies on external blueprints, my mind constructs the physical geometry internally. Dyslexia may have made processing written language a challenge, but it completely transformed the way I imagine.

When I try to reconstruct a memory, it doesn't play back like a clean, chronological video tape; instead, I am suddenly plunged back into the entire sensory and emotional ecosystem of that moment. I can instantly map out the exact layout of the room, feel the specific tension or joy in the air, and vividly picture the scene in 3D, using the overall story and purpose of the day as my anchor. But when I try to zoom in on the rigid details, the exact date, the street name, or the precise words someone used the picture blurs, forcing me to use the deep, reliable "gist" of the experience to piece together those missing factual fragments.

Designing for dyslexia
Good accessibility rarely benefits only one group.
Designing for dyslexia almost always improves the experience for everyone.
Here are a few principles I try to keep in mind.

Use Visual Hierachy
By using size, colour, and spacing, you control what the reader sees first, second, and last. Without this structure, designs become chaotic and overwhelming, causing people to miss the core message. Ultimately, a strong hierarchy makes information quick to read, easy to digest, and highly memorable.

Create clear simple structure
Headings aren't just visual decoration. They're signposts.
Many dyslexic readers scan a page before deciding whether to read it. A good heading hierarchy allows someone to build a mental map before diving into the detail.

Keep paragraphs short
Large walls of text increase cognitive load. Breaking information into smaller sections allows readers to pause, process and continue without feeling lost.

Write plainly
Simple language doesn't make ideas simpler. It makes them clearer. The goal isn't to remove complexity from your thinking—it's to remove unnecessary complexity from your writing.

Give text room to breathe
White space isn't empty.
It's separation.
Imagine trying to identify one zebra in a tightly packed herd.
Everything blends together.
Spread them apart, and each becomes easier to recognise.
Text behaves much the same way.
Generous line spacing, paragraph spacing and margins reduce visual crowding and make reading feel less overwhelming.

Choose clean, highly legible fonts
Sans-serif fonts generally create simpler letterforms with fewer decorative details competing for attention. Reserve decorative or script fonts for occasional accents rather than long passages of text.

Use meaningful icons
Sometimes a familiar icon communicates an idea faster than several words.
Recognition is often easier than decoding text. Good iconography can reduce cognitive effort and improve comprehension, especially when paired with clear labels.

Living with dyslexia has shaped far more than the way I read.
It's shaped the way I solve problems.
The way I design.
The way I communicate.
And perhaps most importantly, the way I empathise with other people.
When you've spent your life struggling with something others find effortless, you become far more aware that every person experiences the world differently.
That's a valuable lesson for any designer.
Every interface we create is interpreted by a human brain.
There is no single "normal" brain.
There are only different ways of thinking.

Designing for dyslexia isn't about lowering the bar.
It's about removing unnecessary barriers so more people can reach it.
And in doing so, we often create better experiences for everyone.