So, is it any wonder why I grew up believing that I was stupid, incapable, and frankly, beyond help? Why I believed I could never succeed in college, or even high school, assuming I even survived to attend? Or why I never showed any interest in attending college? 

Is it a complete mystery as to why, for my whole life, I told myself and others that I would never amount to anything aside from another nameless statistic, taken too soon by a condition I was born with and could not help? 

Even now, over a decade later, I can still feel the immense pain I felt while attending DSST. A burning ball of rage and despair forms in my throat whenever I’m reminded of it. That, and my whole body tightens as my heart races. I wish I had the words to truly describe to my parents what was happening to me back then, and the power to do something about it aside from leave for “greener” pastures.

These same feelings, stifled only by a shitload of anxiety, still bubble to the surface from time-to-time, especially when I’m at college. I cope by distracting myself from those feelings, because I really don’t want to burst into tears in front of anyone. But, I have to admit, I’ve shed plenty of tears in the Xterra both to and from my classes at CU Denver. Not because of academics, but because of these intense feelings I’ve grown up to associate with academics.