I started a second graduate program last fall in Library and Information Science. Before starting classes, I navigated my way through the university’s disability services. This wasn't my first time doing this, but it has been one of the most difficult.
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I will always have a low buzzing of anxiety running through my blood. This I know for sure. I will always be working twice as hard as those who don't have mental illness just so I can appear normal. It makes me sad, sure, but... I guess I'm lucky: Lachrista Marie Greco never existed without anxiety--so I have no previous self to mourn.
It's nearing back-to-school time, and while I love teachers, I don't love ALL teachers. I love the good ones, which are few and far between. This time of year always has me reflecting on my academic learning experience, and so much of it was bad.
As a person who was once in Special Ed, and has two diagnosed learning disabilities, school was never easy for me. I had to work twice as hard as other students. Always. I had to study twice as hard, and I still rarely received an 'A.' I had teachers tell me I was "stupid" (seriously), and that I was "different" (always like that's a bad thing), among other various things an adult (or really anyone) should never say to a living, breathing, heart-containing person.