The letters moved from right to left, twisted, blurred, and jumped. I tried to make them stop but no matter how hard I tried they wouldn’t rest. Growing up I always wanted to fit in. I wanted to do well in class, share stories at recess, and feel proud when I raised my hand. School did not come easy and I did not fit in. I wanted school to be a place where I enjoyed going. Instead, it was like I was constantly trying to catch up chasing after lessons that never seemed to slow down for me. Reading was confusing. Writing was even harder. No matter how hard I worked, the letters just would not stay in place, and my sentences never looked the way I meant for them to. I did not fit in. 

I remember sitting at my desk in third grade, staring at the paper in front of me, feeling my heart race as I tried to understand the words that would not stay still. My peers turned in their assignments as I was still working on the first question. I realized that school was not going to be easy for me like it was for everyone else. 

My teacher saw how hard I was trying and how frustrated and embarrassed I was becoming. She pulled my parents aside and said she thought there was something more going on. She suggested I get tested. 

“We went to the open house within the first two weeks of the school year and when I asked your teacher how you were doing she said ‘If you don’t get her tested she’s gonna drown in here,’ and that’s what I needed to know, so then within two weeks we got you tested,” said my mom. 

Then came the tests, so many tests, tests that made me cry, tests I never wanted to take again: neurological evaluations, blood work, hearing exams, and doctors asking me questions that seemed impossible to answer. I just wanted to know what was wrong, hoping there was an answer. I never fully understood what was going on but I trusted that my parents would get me the help I needed. I would hear quiet voices using words I didn’t recognize but I knew they were talking about me.

Finally, I was diagnosed with severe dyslexia, dysgraphia, and an auditory processing disorder.

“She was using some words that I was like, I don’t even know what the heck she was talking about,” said my dad. 

I did not fit in.

At 8 years old, I could not even write those words. All I knew was that I was different and I did not know what my future looked like. I did not fit it in. From a young age I learned when something is wrong you go to the doctor, get medicine and it’s all better. 

Then came the conversion at Starbucks, of all places. My mom told me the diagnosis and that she would talk to more doctors to get me the support and help I needed. Still a confused eight year old, I was clueless. I sat there trying to make sense of the words my mom was saying: dyslexia, dysgraphia, auditory processing disorder. They did not mean anything to me. In one ear and out the other. 

“The first thing you asked me when I told you was, ‘But can I stay at St. Catherines right?’” said Mom.

 All I knew was that there was no medicine to fix me. I was going to have to live with this forever. Would it ever get better? Again telling myself, I do not fit in. It was clear I was not like the other kids, and that was hard to accept. No matter how hard I tried I was always one step behind, feeling like I was watching my life from the sidelines. 

That was when everything started to change. I began tutoring twice a week for over five years, working to relearn how to read and retrain my brain hoping one day, the task that seemed so easy for everyone else would finally become manageable for me. 

My parents through it all helped me tremendously doing everything they could to make me feel like I belonged. They got me a therapist so I had someone to talk to, along with an occupational therapist to help with my writing. 

I felt like I was climbing a never-ending mountain with no peak in sight. I remember being frustrated. I was different. I was mad. I had all these thoughts in my head, but no way to get them out onto a paper. When I read what I had written it makes perfect sense to me, but others did not get it. My classmates would read my work and often ask, “What does this mean?” I explained again and again, which then made me feel like I was doing something wrong. 

School has been a constant battle with ups and downs and just when I thought I finally accepted my diagnosis, another challenge showed up. Last September I was diagnosed with ADHD, adding another layer to the learning challenges I was already facing.

Suddenly things started making more sense. This is why I could not focus, why I forget things, why my brain always feels like it’s running in 15 different directions. I began to question, Why am I so special? What is God’s purpose for me? I’m already dealing with dyslexia, dysgraphia, auditory processing and now ADHD. How much more would I have to face? I still do not fit in. 

Often I feel overwhelmed and embarrassed, like my brain is working against me. I worry about college, jobs, and everything my future holds. I often remind myself of how far I have come and the great things I have done with my gifts. I learned how to read for the second time, learned how to advocate for myself, and when things got tough I worked twice as hard just to get it right. 

Living with all this isn’t easy but it’s a gift.  Yes, I work much harder than my peers have to. I still have to figure it all out, and I know there will be more challenges ahead. I’m not giving up. I was just a kid who wanted to fit in. Now I am heading into my senior year. I’m learning how to stand out not as a kid who struggled, but as someone who never gave up. My challenges are a part of me but they don’t define me as a person.

I stand out not because of my challenges but because of the strength I found in overcoming them. In a world where everyone tries to fit in, I stand out and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.