I am seriously disabled when it comes to numbers. I have always have had a very difficult time with them from the very beginning. I found that I have a condition known as "dyscalculia", it is similar to dyslexia in that the numbers transpose. Many times I look at a set of numbers and it might as well be one big hairball that my cat has hacked up. No start, no middle and no end, just a complicated puzzle of lines that have no meaning to me. I know my Social Security Number and I know my driver's license number. I have my phone number down and can tell you what it is. If I write it down for you, you gotta double check, I'll transpose something. I have no trouble with letters, I excel at words. It is a cruel joke that nature has played upon me.
I had to go to the bank today and talk about some finances I have. I generally forget all about them, they sit quietly in the bank an do whatever finances do in their spare time. When I am forced to confront them though, I am terrified. When I was talking to my financial guy today, I felt like he was the principal and I was once again forced to stay after school and practice the numbers till I got them right.
Once, I was asked to stop at the supermarket by a friend to pick up a box of tampons. I was fine until I walked into the aisle of the "Feminine Hygiene" department. Suddenly, I was faced with a choice of petite, regular and large. Heavy and light days, liners with wings, liners with out wings, easy plastic applicators or natural lubricant applicators. I had never in my life been so out of my element as that day. I mean a man cannot really explain that type of situation to anyone, much less himself.
I also guess that the another way to describe the way numbers affect me is like buying a bra. As a male, I am quite sure of what goes inside a bra. I am, or was at one time, quite adept at unhooking them with both hands, left hand, right hand, fastened in the back or fastened in the front, even those with no fasteners. I was a bra master. But, if for some reason I was chosen to go buy a bra, I would only know the basics. The problems start when I try to guess how it is supposed to fit, you know, putting the peddle to the metal, to where the rubber meets the road so to speak. I am totally out of my element. I know what all the basic moves, but I cannot put what I know to the task at hand.
That is the way it is for numbers and me. Some things just aren't supposed to happen.