As a Somali child in the 90s, I had to flee my country due to the war.
I lived in several countries where I had to constantly learn new languages and keep up with my education.
My earliest memory of my dyslexia is at primary school in Syria when I used to struggle reading aloud.
I remember it didn't stop me from raising my hand when the teacher wanted someone to read but the teacher avoided picking me as she knew I struggled reading.
I didn't know that was a symptom of dyslexia neither did the Arabic teacher.
To her, I was just the student who was behind in reading and I felt stupid.
Fast forward to when we moved to the UK, I came as 15 year old. I learned English, did my GCSEs and A-level in four years. Yes, dyslexia didn't make it easy but it meant I had to work harder on myself.
By my fourth year in the UK, I was in first year university, studying film making and TV production. That's when I found out I had dyslexia and it all made sense.
I remember I had a sense of relief because finally I had an explanation to why I'm good in maths and love cosmology but struggle in spelling/grammar and reading aloud.
Now that I'm a BBC News video journalist and it’s still not easy. In fact, it’s harder because as a journalist I’m expected to not make the spelling and grammar mistakes that I still make.
Even on my twitter account, it’s embarrassing to constantly have typos in my tweets and I know it might make me look less of a professional journalist but I try to proofread as much as I can. It’s a daily challenge.
I love my job, love telling stories. I’m a visual person so instead of writing them, I film them.