I don’t know why I have become so infatuated with this “disability” called dyslexia. After I was diagnosed and understood the actual term….it felt like the lights finally turned on. 

As I became frustrated with imputing any more information in my brain yesterday, I remembered one of the girls in one of my undergraduate courses. We shared a few classes within the 4 year span. I never knew her but I knew how smart she was. Then, I think to myself and I tell myself..This isn’t fair. I’m sure everything comes easy to her. Her hair, her beauty, her 4.0 GPA. Her admission into dental school. Her boyfriend. Her life. Effortlessly, she achieved everything I could have ever wished for…all in 4 years. Again, this isn’t fair.

I spend countless hours reading a textbook with concepts that don’t become clear until the 4th read. I can’t do simple math in my head. My grammar is far from correct. I can’t write down a sentence after it was previously dictated to me. Application problems are the most difficult for me to answer.  Sometimes I can barely get a thought processed and an idea expressed correctly and my thought just become a mumble jumble of words. And the list goes on and on..

So now what? I acknowledged my weak points. I tried to fix it myself. My stubborn self refused to ask for help. I changed study habits, I spent more time re reading material. I essentially tried harder than most people do and way above I thought I was capable of doing.

After the blood, sweat, and tears, my exam scores ranged from C’s-D’s. The class curve was the only thing keeping me above water. Checking my midterm scores became my biggest fear. The idea that I wasn’t as smart as other people became my biggest insecurity. 

I managed to graduate with a B.S in Biology with a slightly lower than average GPA a 16/30 (something I don’t mind admitting now) on the DAT, and no acceptance letter from dental school. 

I accepted the idea that I wasn’t as smart as that beautiful blonde girl in my class. Things will continually be harder for me. We may end up at the same finish line but the difference was that she finished way before I did and her clothes didn’t have an ounce of sweat on it. 

I finally asked for help. To me, Dyslexia was a term referring to people who read words backwards. These people weren’t smart and they had to read special books to get past their disability. To my dismay, I was totally wrong. Because of the common misconceptions, I usually don’t acknowledge to others about my dyslexia. I’ll never use it as an excuse not to try. I have finally come to terms with it and I won’t let it hold me back. And i’ve realized that i’m just as smart as the next person.

I’m still working on my insecurities. But I’m going to try harder to not let the stress or anxiety get to me, which were the usual repercussions that came with it.

Although, some things come easier to others; I’m setting my own goals and accepting my limitations.

Can’t stop. Won’t stop.