The name given to me was growth, the name I chose was hope. 

I am a therapist, who is trying to find her reflection, her heartbeat, and everything in between. Today, I am here to share my story.

Have you ever thought that you have finally accepted yourself completely, only to realize that it indeed was acceptance but built on conditions?

When my journey with Acceptance began…

I have felt that I was different ever since I was in elementary school when my persona started to come into being and I came to realize that I didn’t think, feel, learn, or act like my peers.

Back in time, it didn’t seem that there were many labels to catalogue people by, but still, I knew I was different, and teachers and classmates made sure I knew it- calling me ‘’dumbo ‘’or “weak” were their favourite manoeuvres to ensure it.

I was diagnosed with dyslexia and dyscalculia now referred to as a learning disability, which saw me fail over and over again in math, spelling, grammar, and in general, academically speaking. Teachers told my parents about how I would struggle greatly if I ever decided to go into something academic- science, commerce, and arts were not for me. For all those who aren’t aware,  Learning disability is a neurological disorder, in which individuals have difficulty reading, writing, spelling, reasoning, recalling, and/or organizing information if left to figure things out by themselves or if taught in conventional ways.

I felt like a failure, unable to cope in this non-dyslexic, insensitive world. My parents pushed me for greatness, but in my mind, I felt like I couldn’t go very far. I let my fear of failure keep me from going out, and I let go of many opportunities that came along. Once I was diagnosed, people started treating me differently, and my friends’ behaviour toward me changed, as a result of which I also developed social anxiety and self-doubt. Instead of gaining confidence during my grade school years, to enter my teen years of hormonal changes and the roller coaster ride of emotions, I went into the phase feeling unworthy of anything good or worthwhile. 

I remember having a conversation with a friend back in school. She was telling me that maybe I should quit my work, and focus on something that wasn’t so challenging for me; that I should accept my limits and work within those boundaries. Her words were devastating to me. Here I was trying hard to make my mark, with words like that swirling around my mind and engaging in a constant battle with my insecurities.

Where I am now… as a therapist

You see, I am dyslexic and I struggled greatly to write this story down. I am probably going to read it twenty times and will still end up with many ‘mistakes’. My job is a daily struggle, and sometimes I break down and cry because it takes me double the time and effort than it would take a neurotypical person to do a basic task like writing. 

As a student,  there were resources that were external and were always there to hold onto, but today as a therapist, these resources are within me. I hold them, hone them and use them in my sessions. While practicing as a Therapist I also make sure to type out my notes after the session so that they are grammatically correct and easier to comprehend. I also work on improving my vocabulary by looking up synonyms for basic words. My fellow colleagues also support me by proofreading my content.

But here’s the thing, I’m not quitting, no matter how many times I cry, no matter how many times I fail, or how bad I have it with my neurodivergence, I won’t quit.

Am I a story of success? That depends on what you think success is.

A Tale of Perseverance and Hard Work… 

In a society where opinions restrict possibilities, I was fortunate enough to come across institutions that respected and understood me as a neurodivergent therapist. These avenues did not view my mistakes or shortcomings as disabilities but rather provided me with a supportive and inclusive space. Within these institutions, I had the freedom to be authentic and showcase my strengths. As a result, I could fully immerse myself in the present moment without being preoccupied with future apprehensions.

My parents pushed me beyond what I thought were the limits imposed by my own circumstances. I met a person, a teacher, and a counsellor, who shaped me. She was my constant support and helped me in ways I can’t express. The unconditional love I received from her, and of course, my parents, and my elder sister, were there the whole time and helped me overcome my internal battles. They still do, as always. They made me believe in hope, in myself, and in this world.

Day by day that oblivion where I knew nothing about myself, somehow started to decipher to me what I am and what I want to be.

Despite the great fear I had of my dyslexic mind, I enrolled myself in University. Ironically, I chose a career path focused on psychology.

I pushed myself beyond what I thought were my limits. I worked harder than my fellow classmates, even if it took them two hours to do an essay that would take me twelve. But I wasn’t fighting against them; I was fighting against myself. Pushing and working beyond the pain, frustration, and desperation.

I spent countless sleepless nights trying to get each essay perfect and flawless, re-writing every sentence to make it perfect, and still, I had flaws, mistakes, and errors that made me feel like a failure.

But I can tell you this: I absolutely love my job. I love learning and reading. I still cry when I don’t score well or I write a sentence wrong in my client notes or email and I get very frustrated, but I keep going beyond my limits only to discover that it is limitless on the other side.

I keep improving with every mistake I make, and I’ve been fortunate enough to find incredible friends, teachers, and colleagues that value the creativity and efforts in my work more than my mistakes.

I made constant efforts, took small steps, went to a psychologist, changed my subjects, took therapy, learned 10 new words per week, cried, wiped my tears, and painted. I let it all out, but in the end, most importantly, I believed in myself, I believed in the power of hope. I was struggling on my own, looking out for myself, searching for who I was. It took time, but I did find myself. Many people have played a role in my journey, and I owe my success to my family, and my counsellor, but first, I owe it to myself.

The Conundrum I face daily…

I can whine and quit because I have a learning disability, or I can accept that condition and work around it, through it, and over it. For many years I saw myself as a failure for having something I never wished for, but the moment I took responsibility for myself, my life, and my mind, I found the courage and determination to not let it define who I am.

Now, I am devoted to this notion of self-improvement because it brought the positive attention and affirmation I lacked for a very long time. Furthermore, I had a hard time just being myself without feeling the need to change something about myself.

With practice, I began feeling at peace with myself—with all my strengths and weaknesses. However, this didn’t just happen overnight. It took effort and many small steps.

I began to celebrate my many strengths.

I started to make time to honor what I brought to this world.

I worked hard to take in praise from others without doubting their intentions.

I cultivated a positive support system. I knew I naturally became similar to the people I chose to be around. So, I built a support system that is inspiring and fulfilling, not discouraging and depleting.

I committed to stop comparing myself to others. I could acknowledge others’ strengths without disregarding or belittling my own.

I began to understand and quieten my inner critic. I didn’t shut this voice out completely, but I worked on it being constructive as opposed to being hurtful.

Finally, I began to practice self-compassion and kindness. If I wouldn’t say it to someone I love, I didn’t say it to myself.

With all these steps, I began to understand who I am and know what I want, while being comfortable in my skin. I value myself and have gained respect from others. I know I can face challenges in my life head-on. I embrace all parts of who I am, and not just the good stuff. I recognize my limitations and weaknesses.

Today, as a neurodivergent individual, I rely on my experiences to be my constant teacher. I see myself empathizing more, observing the social and cultural impact of things in my clients’ lives to help create a more comprehensive understanding of their experiences. I bring in insights about the skills they acquire and sometimes are not able to access. Self- disclosure used judiciously, about my own narrative helps build my relationship with my clients to build a connection and understanding between them.

All my life, my sense of Self was influenced by the acceptance I received from those around me. I knew what being different and not being able to fit in felt like. That was, till I started studying and practicing counseling. Here there was no more pretending. I gradually found acceptance within my heart, even if the world didn’t. This field has given me a space to belong, be accepted, and also flourish. The paradox of being a neurodivergent therapist is the effort I make to accept myself along with every client I see and accept. 

This world is engineered in a way wherein it struggles to accept anything that falls outside the norm. But as Psychologists, we learn to embrace and make space for differences to exist and this beauty of being a therapist has also allowed me to embrace my true being-

I live from a connected heart space, one that is fully aware and conscious of the energy I hold within me. 

I seek to stay centered. It is here that I feel most alive and live my true self as a therapist.

I can credit my years of perseverance for putting me on the path to this great life.

The post The Art of Hope first appeared on Karma Care.