A Letter to My Past Self

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Dear Little Brookie,

I see you. I see the little girl who's trying so hard to keep up.

The one who studies longer than everyone else and cries to sleep.

The one who panics every time a “timed” math test hits your desk.

The one who quietly hopes the teacher won't call on her because she's still trying to figure out the question.

I hear the things people keep saying.

"You just need to try harder."

"Try to focus."

"The other kids can do it."

"Why can't you just get organized?"

"You're so smart if you'd only apply yourself."

"Stop being lazy."

I know those words hurt. Not because you believe you're lazy. Because you know how hard you're trying.

You won’t know this until you are older, however you have a learning disability.

Today, that feels like a complete and acceptable sentence. In 1988 it sounds like you are lumped in with every other kid who has a disability.

I promise you that one day, you'll realize it's only part of your story.

You don't know this yet, but the way your brain works is going to become your greatest gift.

Because you'll never forget what it feels like to not understand.

You'll never forget what it feels like to need someone to explain it differently.

And because you'll never forget, you'll become the person who makes other people feel capable.

• You'll slow down. You'll ask better questions.

• You'll explain complicated things without making people feel small.

• You'll spend your life helping people believe they can learn something they once thought was beyond them.

Every time someone smiles and says, "Oh... now I get it," a little piece of your heart will smile too.

Keep asking questions, Little Brookie.

One day, they'll become your superpower.

Love,

Brooke