The Setup
I have never been an English person. I've never enjoyed reading. I have awful spelling and grammar, and I can never put what I am thinking eloquently. In 3rd grade, I was diagnosed with a minor case of dyslexia. At the time it didn't mean much too me other than not being good at writing, reading or spelling, but as I got older I became increasingly more frustrated with my little mistakes on tests and inability to express myself on paper. 

The What 

By eighth grade everyone knew me as a bad speller. Every week we had spelling tests and it became a class joke to find out what I had gotten. Even the teacher would make fun of me. The first couple times it didn’t bother me, but when it became a weakly thing it started to make me feel like I was inferior to very one else.  It got to the point that almost every week I was on the verge of tears when people would bring up my score. I didn’t tell anyone about it until years later. 

When went to high school I saw an opportunity to hide my dyslexia. Only 2 people from my middle school came with me and I hardly knew anyone. From the first day of school I hid it as well as I could. Over the years I had found way to avoid things that may show it. I wouldn’t write for group assignments. I relied heavily on google and spell check, and I when we read out loud as a class I would try to figure out what section I would read so I could practice before it got to me.

I didn’t only hide it from my classmates but I also hid it from my family, especially my dad.  My younger sister has been better speller and faster reader than me for a long time, and my dad has never understood how I can’t sound things out and “just remember how to spell them” like he does.  When I asked him now to spell a word he would just say “sound it out” and if I put a wrong letter in he will say “why did you put that in there, it doesn’t make any sense”. The worst though was when I would do homework my dad will come look over my shoulder and say “that shouldn’t be taking you this long”. He had no idea how much his comments hurt.

The So What 

Other people’s remarks only made my self esteem worse. My mom went to Stanford, my dad was the first person in his family to go to college having to pay his own and my grandpa has a PhD in Chemistry. Extremely smart people raised me. My friends were nearly all straight A students, and for some of my time in school I was too. I was very motivated to do well because I felt like a failure to my parents if I didn't. Often though I felt stupid compared to my class mates. I spent multiple nights crying to my mom because I wanted to give up. Internally I would fight with myself about if spending the time to do an assignment well was worth it, if all of my hard work would pay off. Should I just give up? What if I don't live up to my parents exceptions? If I'm not going to succeed what is the point in trying? Am actually stupid and am I just using dyslexia as an excuse? To this day I still sometimes think these things. 

The Now What 
Though struggling with dyslexia I have learned more about myself and how to be successful than I could have ever predicted. Primarily I learned hard work and perseverance. First, I had to accept that not all things would come naturally to me compared to some of my friends. I would HAVE to put in the work and the hard work would pay off. A lot of the time it was hard and I would come close to giving up. I think it is almost magic that I am always able to finish homework. This leads me to my next point, perseverance. I hate giving up on things. If I start something challenging I WILL finish it not matter what. I see giving up as failure. The last and probably hardest lesson I learned is that It is okay to ask for help. I hated asking people for help because I saw it as a weakness, but asking for help is one of the best things I have learned to do for myself. It encourages communication with my family, friends and teachers, so they know what I stuggle with.