For a long time, I viewed my disabilities as weaknesses; and considered myself to be inferior to other able-bodied individuals. I felt that by “accepting” my disabilities meant I was giving in to them.
So, anger settled in.
Instead of feeling propelled to do great things, I opted to feel sorry for myself and gave up on my dreams.
Years passed. Regrets mounted. Misery and loneliness hung on me like thick furs on a hot, muggy summer day.
Suffocating me ever so slowly.
Anxiety and depression visited intermittently until they decided to move in on a more permanent basis. It got so bad I couldn’t step outside of my own home without having an episode.
I realized that I couldn’t go on living like this.
Something had to change.
It wasn’t too long after we moved to North Dakota when I learned there was a School for the Blind in…
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