Another true story

My dyslexia is very bad and I got only some of the necessary stuff from school at the age of 14. They send me to a place where I went every week for two years onwards. One hour with a speech therapist and another one hour with a proper therapist. Well, the first one made me listen to my voice every week and I hated it. I wasn't listening to any of my mistakes in language at all then. Waste of time. I still don't know why the woman actually didn't understand my rage then. I hate my voice. Sorry, can't do anything about that. I make terrible mistakes and muddle along. Perhaps that's why I became a librarian? Still another decision of mine that's on first sight so very puzzling. Yes indeed.