Finding a Voice: Uplifting Memoir Chronicles Man’s Journey to Thriving with Developmental Learning Disorder

developmental disorder, book, inspiring, book, learning disability. Damian Quinn is just like anyone else. His mind races with ideas; he’s intelligent and has the potential to achieve great things. But Damian has spent his life contending with one thing most don’t – the inability to form words and communicate properly.

In his new memoir, ‘Finding a Voice’, Damian takes readers from his early years when the only word he could say was “mimmy”, through to adulthood where he thrives as a successful disability advocate and Vice President of Afasic. This charity has saved his livelihood.

Synopsis:

The power of communication is essential; some say a necessity. We all do it, humans, insects, birds, cats, dogs, etc. No matter which species we belong to, we all communicate. Unfortunately, some people struggle to do so. Damian was one of them.

Developmental Learning Disorder, a speech and language disability, which Damian has had from birth, causes sentences to come out muddled and slow, even though all Damian’s ideas are there. Here Damian talks about how DLD has affected his life, and how the charity Afasic has been there to support him throughout.

Find the struggles that Damian had to go through in his life for him to speak.

Finding a Voice recounts the journey Damian has taken. From the early years, he was struggling to be diagnosed and have the disability recognized, to being heard as Vice President of Afasic.

Finding a Voice recounts the journey Damian has taken. From the early years, struggling to be diagnosed and have the disability recognized, to being heard as Vice President of Afasic.

“My pronunciations, semantics and discourse have been profoundly affected by DLD,” says the author, who has moved back to his hometown of Leighton Buzzard. “As you can imagine, this caused many issues growing up and going through the education system, particularly back in the 1980s when disability wasn’t understood or dignified as it is today. However, I have used my experiences in adulthood to carve out my own success; one that embraces the challenges I face. Unfortunately, DLD affects about two children in every classroom in primary school and sadly that it is more common in boys than girls.”

Continuing, “I wrote this book to share one man’s honest account of disability, both to help raise awareness and understanding among non-suffers, and help those who struggle with conditions like mine to understand they are not defined by it. Their success is not connected to it. I want everyone to understand the odds are always stacked in our favour, no matter the challenges we face in life.”

Reviews have been glowing. Chelsea writes, “I received my book this afternoon and finished it this evening. It was a fascinating read and very informative about DLD and the struggles Damo has faced growing up. It’s an emotional read at times, especially when Damo talks about his feelings behind feeling like he failed his parents. Damo is an absolute delight to know, and I know his parents would be very proud of who he is today! I urge people to read this book and educate themselves on this – fantastic job!”

Justin adds, “This is the heartwarming story of Damian who has grown up with a Developmental Learning Disorder. Damian at an early age, was diagnosed with a Speech and Language Disorder. Damian shares his experiences of living with a disability from his early childhood to his adult life, showing how having a disability has not stopped him from achieving great things in life and helping others with Speech and Language Disorders through the charity called Afasic. This is a most enjoyable and informative read.”

‘Finding a Voice’ is published on November 9th and available from all good bookshops as well as all online book retailers, including Amazon- https://amzn.to/37yTafq

You can find his website at https://www.dysphasia.co.uk/

 

In the Corridor of a College Lodgings. A Poem By Annie Clarke | Uplifting Stories


Who’s this?’ the lecturer asked my daughter.
She said, all bare midriff with tattoo peeping,
‘Only Mum. She’s carrying my plants,
helping to move me in.’
‘Hello, Mum,’ he said, not looking just brushing
the leaves as he passed.
It was a plant my daughter felt would make her room
look familiar, lived in. ‘Like you,’ she’d joked.
At her doorway I placed it in her arms,
but it was his bustling back I watched.
He turned this way and that
distributing greetings to other beasts of burden.
Not waiting for their replies, either.
I called, too loud perhaps. ‘My name is Margaret.
I usually wear stiletto shoes, and pink jackets,
when not camouflaged as a removal man.
I cycled off road across harsh terrain for charity. If you’d looked
You’d have seen highlights in my hair.
I belly dance and have a name.
My name, again, is Margaret.

‘Way to go, Mum,’ my daughter whooped
Up and down the corridor’s length and breadth
Plants and CD players were handed over.
Students were kissed with love. And left.
‘Yes, we have names,’ we all said.
As thoughts of achievements big and small
lent wings to trainers. ‘And places to go. And
lives to live.
Fashion statements to make, and parameters to break.

‘Goodbye, lecturer,’ we smiled, as we passed by.