The Fear I Left Behind-A Daughter's Journey Through Dyslexia and Dyscalculia

I hate being different from my peers; this difference has always been with me, like a big bag I drag along throughout the day. The bag is as heavy as a sack of rocks, though nobody sees my strain. The bag is as big as Santa’s sack, though it contains no gifts. The bag fills the room, yet nobody sees it. Nobody sees the effort it takes to move through my day; I smile through the pain. I work ten times harder than others, though nobody sees the effort. My negativity bag is filled with self-doubt, loathing, and discouragement- ready to spill out onto the floor at any moment. I focus on the negative, letting stress and my obsessive nature consume me and belittle the person I was and became. It all started when I was officially diagnosed with not one, but two learning disabilities; Dyscalculia and Dyslexia. I was consumed with fear and thought this would change everything for the worse. This was the day when I started sewing my bag. It was little at first, but as time went on I collected more fear and doubt, which I sewed into my ever-expanding bag.

I remember diagnosis day clearly, it was not like the night before Christmas-staying up all night awaiting Santa’s visit and the presents I would receive. No, it was more like the nightmare before Christmas! I was 9 and in my kitchen when my mom came home with puffy, swollen eyes and a mile-high stack of paper. The Ava chronicles. Each page chronicled what I was not able to do, what I struggled with, where I missed the mark of my peers, where I tried my best, but fell short. There it was all laid out before me; these words I didn’t understand-Dyslexia and Dyscalculia. My mom did her best to tell me that I was smart, I was capable, I was Ava-not a learning disability. I was crying and utterly disappointed with myself; hoping and wishing I was different, “normal.” I wanted to shred that mile-high stack of papers in the nearest shredding bin and start all over. Magically, to get all of the answers correct, to prove to those testing people that they got it wrong-that I was Ava, the girl who exceeded everyone’s expectations. I knew this couldn’t happen. I thought this would change everything, that my world would come crashing down as a learning disability wave. I assumed after people found out it would change how they view me, their actions towards me, and they would feel sorry for me.

My parents put me in private after-school tutoring and got me help. My mom fought like a cornered tiger to ensure I had the help I needed at school. She volunteered in the classroom like it was her full-time job to make sure I could succeed. Even with the help offered, I couldn’t readily accept it and embrace it. I was so ashamed and petrified that someone would find out. My worry grew- what would people think of me if they found out? Would they tease me? I became obsessed with keeping my secret safe, my bag grew with every fearful thought, with every moment of self-doubt; I had to work harder I told myself. Every small stumbling block felt like a tattoo of failure stamped on my forehead. I attacked school assignments like a butcher on a slab of meat. My sole focus became to prove everyone wrong-to prove those test people got it wrong. I would spend hours on homework at the dinner table with my mom, trying to get assignments done before the deadline. No matter how hard I worked, or how many hours I put in, I always seemed to fail to meet my expectations, letting myself down in the end. With each disappointment, I added a couple of stitches to my bag of shame. I never appreciated my tutor and my parents’ sacrifice because I was ashamed. When we arrived 3 days per week at tutoring, I would scream and cry, bang on the car door, beg and plead not to go, try to negotiate my way out of it– anything not to go, not to feel that shame. The stab of each disappointment chipped away at my soul- making me retreat into my own Ava world of safety and comfort. I learned not to put myself out there, to keep my mouth shut and my head down. I didn’t want any attention because attention was always negative-I didn’t even want birthday parties any longer. I felt everybody had a low bar for me.

I thought if I could hide my learning disabilities then it wasn't real, but no matter how long or well I hid them or shoved them into my bag, it was my truth. In the reality of my life, I was different. I was in that 20% of the population with learning disabilities. I had to come to terms with it or it would tear me down from within and limit my future successes. It wasn’t until I got to high school that I realized I wasn’t the only one who struggled and felt defeated. My focus started to shift, I started to wrestle with the beast and I began to achieve small victories. I wasn’t a learning disability; I was Ava. I wasn’t a disease, I was capable. I wasn’t shamed, I was bold. I wasn’t different, I was stronger. The more I shifted my mindset, the more powerful I became and the more I achieved. My grades reflected the work I put in for the first time ever. I met my expectationsI was finally proud of my achievements.

Now as I journey through life, my negativity bag no longer drags behind me, it no longer causes me strain and pain. It is not the cloak of shame that concealed my fears. It is a sandwich baggie that I can tuck away. My thoughts now focus on the things I can do, will do, want to do. I no longer focus on the things I can’t do, the marks I miss or the mistakes I make. I have learned to accept the struggle, even embrace it. I have learned the most from the struggles in my life, from the challenges I face and in the fear I left behind. I have learned to show gratitude to those who help me. I have learned to embrace and utilize the lessons my learning disabilities have taught me. I accept that everyone has their secrets and their truths tucked away in their negativity bags and only I can control the size and shape that I am willing to carry with me. I am Ava and I will let nothing define me.