This is an update, of a kind, of my post on disabilities.
I have come a very long way from the 16-year-old girl who had a teacher tell her she would not make it through college; perhaps she should try trade school. I am even further away from the girl who failed over and over at mastering the simple basics of multiplication and long division. From the scared girl at a big white building, while strangers made her put puzzles together or pick up peas and put them in jars, as they tested for fine motor skills and spatial perception.
I am still the woman who does not always remember the difference between there, their, and they’re (and who gets so angry at the people who make fun of others who also slip and forget this rule). I also still only have the attention span of a small, high-strung animal, and the short-term memory of a goldfish. I am still the woman who needs almost everything she writes proof read for clarity, grammar, and spelling.*
I am also the woman who has two degrees, two college degrees. It took me seven years, but I am not ashamed, I am triumphant (at least, when I don’t listen to that nasty little voice in the back of my head telling me I am not good enough. I believe we all have that voice, and I try to ignore it). I am currently a successful graduate student (oh please can I go back in time and tell that high school teacher to shove it?) and I plan to continue this path into being a successful professional.
The last time I wrote like this, I was writing out of anger, out of fear. I needed to remind people how important it was to believe in their friends, to believe in their children, in anyone they could provide that support. Without support, it is near impossible to keep getting up every day to do what needs to be done. Today I am writing out of thanks for the people who do believe in me: my family, my friends, colleagues, and my professors. I am also writing to remind myself that I still have a ways to go, and to remind myself that I can get through this as well.
So, maybe this is just an elaborate memo to myself, I am okay with this idea. Anyone who knows me will know that I am a bit (melo)dramatic.
TL:DR story is, thank you to the people who help me get through it, and thank you for the people who believe in me. Also, keep believing in your weird, troubled kids.
*I do not make a habit of having these edited, however. I tell myself that makes them “authentically amy.”