Owning My Disability Status
For years, I brought myself unnecessary trauma by ignoring that I was, in fact, disabled. I suffered from Generalized Anxiety Disorder, OCD, and Bipolar Depression since I was very young. Instead of kindness and sympathy, my symptoms were met with shame, from my family and my peers, 10-year-old me battled with comments like, “Nothing in your life is that bad! Snap out of it!” or, “You’re such a waterworks,” even, “There goes Ms. Perfect, worrying about everything.” My neurodivergence was a burden, a downer, a destruction from the things that needed to get done. Popularity eluded me, and I blamed my inability to relate to other kids, my weight, anything besides my emotional health because I didn’t realize my brain was different.
