I Was Bullied & Struggled Silently For Decades Until I Realized This Was Undiagnosed

When I was in elementary school, a friend read one of the papers on my desk. She laughed out loud, poking fun at my handwriting, and asked, "What the heck is this?" The words were all different sizes, jumbled, misaligned, with even a few floating letters.

Embarrassed and flooded with shame, I quickly responded, "Oh, it's a secret language I made up—just for fun." But really, what was illegible to her made perfect sense to me. It was the only way I knew how to write. 

A few years later, our math teacher assigned students problems to solve in front of the class. I was overtaken by nerves and quickly excused myself to the restroom, where I broke into a cold-sweat panic attack. After 15 minutes of struggling to work out the problem on the bathroom paper towel, I finally returned with the correct answer. Meanwhile, other students were able to solve the problem on the spot within seconds.

Fast-forward to adulthood, when I announced on social media that I was leaving my corporate job in advertising to follow my heart and be a writer, someone I thought was a close friend wrote in the comments, "Good luck, you can't spell worth sh*T!" Then, they unfriended me and blocked me, disappearing into the category of someone that I used to know.

What comes easy to others has always been a struggle for me. I've always been told I am the problem. My entire life, I've been gaslit by teachers, family members, friends, and lovers, assuming I'm "lazy," "sloppy," or just not "applying myself enough," when the reality is, I've actually had to try extra hard.

That added pressure of feeling so misunderstood and attacked has also cast a dark layer of anxiety and depression over most of my social and professional experiences.

People with disabilities1 have twice the risk of developing conditions such as depression, asthma, diabetes, stroke, obesity, or poor oral health, in part because of social stagnation, isolation, judgment, and shame.

Although disability is part of the human experience, when one is undiagnosed, life can be a nightmare. So many people are undiagnosed and shoulder the blame, suffering silently. Whether it's a mental, physical, or emotional health issue, we are taught to believe that we are the problem.

"Neurodivergence2" is a term for when someone's brain processes, learns, and/or behaves differently than what is considered "typical" or "neurotypical."

Understanding this led me to discover I have dysgraphia and dyscalculia. Dysgraphia is a neurological disorder and learning disability that relates to impairments in written expression, which affects the ability to write (primarily handwriting but also writing coherence).

Dyscalculia, meanwhile, impacts one's ability to do math, as the brain doesn't process number-based information in a regular manner. No wonder math gave me panic attacks!

My life has been filled with people jabbing, bullying, and poking fun; I've lost friendships, been targeted and taken advantage of—all because my undiagnosed learning disability made me seem weak.

But this couldn't be further from the truth. Some of the world's biggest creatives, visionaries, and changemakers (i.e., Andy Warhol, Albert Einstein, Bill Gates, Elon Musk, Greta Thunberg, Emily Dickinson) were and are neurodivergent.

Imagine if we celebrated children who were different instead of trying to assume they should be the same. If we supported their strengths, we could better understand their weaknesses. If we leaned in with compassion, empathy, and curiosity.

What if instead of shunning one's differences, we embrace all differences?

In the spirit of September being self-improvement month, whether you have an undiagnosed disability, disease, or mental illness—or you simply want to feel better in your mind and body—maybe we don't have to try so hard. When it comes to self-improvement, maybe we don't need to improve anything but rather can embrace and understand more of who we already are. 

The problem is that I never knew I had a learning disability. I just knew I had to work extra hard to do what seemed easy for others. The truth really does set you free.

We live in a world that focuses more on how things look (as long as everything looks good on the outside, then it's fine). But we don't really address the emotional needs on the inside of each person.

After four decades of being told I was the problem, enough was enough. I gave the shame back by reclaiming my own power.

Sure, I can't spell too well and have to put in a lot more hours to do what is pretty easy for others (thank goodness for great editors!), yet despite this disability, I've turned my passion for writing into a robust, wildly fulfilling career as a professional communicator.

Today, I'm an international bestselling author of six books, with two more on the way, and a new Guidance From Gaia Oracle Deck that I designed and wrote the full book for. I lead sold-out self-love retreats around the world. I never let my setbacks or perceived flaws and insecurities stop me. I've embraced my full self.

While not everyone struggles with a disability, we all have struggles. Learning to be kinder to others can help us all go a long way. The next time you think about yelling at someone for their perceived shortcomings, stop and pause. They could have something going on that you know nothing about.