It’s a warm June day. I arrive nice and early for my appointment. Bright paintings are lining the walls. Toys and books are spread throughout the waiting room.
Parents and children are sitting patiently. Someone in this office didn’t belong. That someone was me. I am a 27-year-old adult woman with a full-time job and a car.
But yet, here I was sitting in a neuropsychology office with children and families waiting for my appointment. I grew up with a nonverbal learning disorder and dealt with anxiety and depression.
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