My Lifelong Relationship with Reading: A Neurodivergent Perspective

Reading has always been a cornerstone of my life, though it’s only recently that I’ve recognized just how unique my relationship with it truly is. It began when I was six years old, during weekly library trips with my mom. I vividly remember the thrill of getting my very own library card shortly after my sixth birthday—something I still have today. Stories opened up entire worlds for me, and I eagerly joined the library’s summer reading programs, even winning a Choose Your Own Adventure book one year for reading the most.

Through my teens, my love of reading flourished, often centered on the classics. I devoured The Hunchback of Notre Dame (and wondered why it was so obsessed with the printing press), Wuthering Heights, Dracula, Frankenstein, and Crime and Punishment. Each book added layers to my understanding of the world and myself. But my reading habits ebbed and flowed over the years, shaped by the demands and changes in my life.

When I became a parent, I wanted to share the joy of reading with my kids. Even amid the chaos of raising five children, books remained a touchstone. They were a source of connection and comfort, especially during challenging times like my divorce. At night, I’d read to my kids, hoping to instill in them the same love of stories that had shaped me.

Then came technology. My early adoption of the Kindle felt revolutionary—an entire library in my pocket! It was a lifeline during turbulent years, always by my side. Smartphones took it further, letting me sneak a few pages here and there, even at work. I distinctly remember reading all of The Grapes of Wrath in tiny bursts between tasks.

After my second marriage, reading remained a constant companion. My wife, aptly named Mary Shelley (a sign, surely!), shared my love of books. But life threw us a curveball when our two youngest children were born just 15 months apart. Between parenting, work, and exhaustion, my ability to read dwindled. It wasn’t until I discovered audiobooks that I began to reclaim my love of stories.

Discovering My Neurodivergence

Parenting my neurodivergent children brought clarity to my own experiences. Watching them grow, I saw reflections of my childhood: the hyper-fixations, the struggles with social interaction, and the constant pull of new interests. It was like a puzzle finally coming together. I realized I likely have Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) with Pathological Demand Avoidance (PDA), as well as ADHD. This understanding reshaped how I approached reading—and life.

For me, reading is like trying to focus on a single voice in a crowded room. My mind constantly churns with noise, making it hard to concentrate. I often reread the same sentence several times before moving on. Despite these challenges, I’ve adapted my environment and habits to make reading work for me.

Adapting My Reading Process

Technology has been a game-changer. I now have over 1,200 ebooks, many purchased during daily dopamine-driven sales hunts. My Kindle allows me to adjust fonts and lighting, making it easier to focus. Physical books, though charming, often feel cumbersome by comparison.

Audiobooks have also become essential, but only at accelerated speeds. Listening at 2.5x or 3x allows me to keep up with narrators before my mind drifts. I even advocated to Apple to increase their audiobook playback speeds, framing it as an accessibility issue. To my delight, this feature was added in a recent update. Coincidence? Perhaps, but I like to think I played a small part.

Reading requires a carefully curated environment. Noise-canceling headphones, white noise, and the right lighting are non-negotiable. These tools, combined with ADHD medication, have transformed my ability to read. Where I once struggled to finish 15–20 books a year, I now read over 100 annually. The first month I began ADHD treatment, I read 29 books—a pace that still amazes me.

A Journey of Growth and Understanding

Understanding my neurodivergence has been a lifelong process. ASD and ADHD exist on a spectrum, and everyone’s experience is different. What works for me—accelerated audiobooks, ebooks, and late-night reading—may not work for others. Similarly, strategies that help others might not suit me.

This journey has taught me that the tools and understanding we gain over time can transform our lives. Whether neurodivergent or neurotypical, we all grow through trial and error, discovering what works for us. When we do, the world becomes a far more accessible and beautiful place.

For me, reading is no longer just a pastime; it’s a reflection of resilience, adaptation, and joy. It’s a reminder that, no matter the challenges, stories will always be there—waiting to guide, inspire, and connect us.