For over three decades, I navigated life with a secret. I had an uncanny ability to “fake it till I made it,” masking the quirks and struggles that set me apart. But deep down, I knew I was different. The mental gymnastics required to keep up appearances were exhausting, fueled by a fear of being labeled “less than” or “incapable.” I worked twice as hard to compensate, often feeling like I was fighting an invisible battle.
My grades were good, and writing was my forte, but the mental blocks were real. I’d read a passage 15 times, pouring over every word, only to still feel like I was grasping at smoke. The phrase “in one ear and out the other” was more than just a saying – it was my reality. Information would swoop in, and I’d wrestle with it like a cowboy trying to lasso a greased pig at the county fair. More often than not, it would slip away, leaving me feeling defeated.
Social interactions were a different kind of rodeo altogether. I’d try to mimic the social cues and friendships I’d observe around me, but it felt like I was attempting to dance the tango without knowing the steps. I’d stumble over my words, apologize for no reason, and wonder why everyone else seemed to have the secret manual to human connection. Sports, which I loved, became another source of frustration. The social aspect of team dynamics left me feeling like a fish out of water, and I eventually said goodbye to the ball game.
But something shifted when I became a mother. Watching my daughter navigate similar challenges sparked a journey of self-discovery for me. As she underwent evaluations, I realized that the same care and attention I was seeking for her, I deserved for myself. It was as if God was gently nudging me, saying, “You’ve been advocating for her; now it’s time to advocate for you.”
After being officially given a diagnosis, I began to see my differences not as deficits, but as divine design. I realized that my quirks, struggles, and strengths were all part of a larger masterpiece, crafted with precision and purpose. The same traits that had held me back could now become my greatest assets. By embracing my unique wiring, I could unlock new potential, create a thriving environment, and live out the intricate plan God has for me.
This newfound understanding has been a game-changer. I’m no longer trying to fit into someone else’s mold; I’m learning to celebrate the complexities that make me who I am. It’s a journey of self-discovery, empowerment, and faith – a reminder that I am fearfully and wonderfully made, with every trait, talent, and quirk serving a purpose that only God knows. And that’s a beautiful thing.
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