Michelle Steiner

@michellesteiner | contributor
I want to be able to educate others on living life with an invisible disability and to encourage others with a disability to be succesful

Coping With Not Driving Because of a Disability

Every time I need to go somewhere I can’t walk to, I get in the car. This seemingly ordinary task is what many people do each day. The seat I always sit in is the same, no matter which vehicle I enter. I sit in the passenger seat of the car. The visual perception part of my learning disability makes driving neither safe nor possible. Being seated in the passenger seat, though, has enabled me to have a unique perspective on life. When most people hear about a person who struggles with visual perception, they think the symptoms start in the eyes. However, my visual perception struggles start in my brain. I struggle with depth perception, reaction time, and the coordinating mechanics that driving requires. It wasn’t a surprise to me or my parents that driving would create difficulties for me. Having dyscalculia not only affects my ability to do math, but it affects my hand-eye coordination as well. I flinch whenever an object comes near me. People would tell me “not to be afraid of the ball.” I wasn’t “afraid of the ball,” but my eyes would blink at even the softest ball that came in my field of vision. I struggled to coordinate my body and play competitive sports. In school, gym class was a nightmare for me! I was always dropping objects and was forever tripping over things. My parents wanted to wait a year before attempting to teach me to drive. The first try was not in a car, but instead, it was on the riding lawn mower in the green field. I didn’t make straight lines — I made circles. That summer, at least I figured out where crop circles came from! My one and only time behind the wheel was when my mom had me drive up the long driveway at my childhood home. It was fine… until I almost hit the garage door. Thankfully, my mom was there to stop the crash. I had a driver’s evaluation done at a rehabilitation hospital. I passed all of the tests — except the visual perception one. It was recommended that I not get my license. Not being able to drive didn’t bother me. I knew that I was going to have to live life differently if I couldn’t drive. I realized that I would need people to take me places. I also knew that living in a central location where I could walk or take the bus was going to provide more independence than living in the country. Sadly, my lack of driving ability has bothered other people. I have had people tell me that my not driving is “annoying.” I have also had people who told me I am “lucky” that I can’t drive. Once, when I broke up with a guy, he told me that he was tired of taking me places. He also said I “could drive if I wanted to.” Other people have pitied me for not driving. Not being able to drive has caused inconveniences and has made me plan much more than most people, but my view from the passenger seat also has many benefits. I help my husband when we are traveling by looking out for signs and places we want to go. He loves having me with him, and I love being his traveling companion. When I am not able to get a ride, I enjoy my walks. I am able to pick up on details that other people miss. I love taking pictures of flowers and other interesting things on my adventures. I also love getting extra steps in by walking. I am forever grateful for those who give me rides. The passenger seat may not be for everyone, but it is for me. The world needs both passengers and drivers to work together. The ride may not always be smooth or be a journey that people who can drive may understand. Still, the view from the passenger side may be different, but it can still be a beautiful ride.

Community Voices

Alone

Who cares about me!? Nobody!!! I have nobody. I’m alone. I loved my husband so much. He hurt me. He cheated on me. He gaslighted me for years. He left and I’m still suffering. I reach out to people but everyone is busy with their own lives. People say “I’m here if you need me” and now that I need them, nobody is here. I cry myself to sleep. Trying not to be too Loud so the kids don’t hear me. I know I have to be strong but I don’t want to. I want my husband back. But he doesn’t want me. He makes that clear. How could he just walk away after 16 years. I stayed with him through so much when I should have left him. I’m just so alone and lonely. What’s the point anymore.

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Community Voices

Mum

<p>Mum</p>
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How My Learning Disability Affects My Handwriting

From the time I was a young child, I struggled with my handwriting. Much of the difficulty is due to my learning disability and limited hand dexterity. I can remember feeling the shame and stigma of poor handwriting in elementary school. In first grade, I received a W indicating weakness on my report card for my handwriting. I was diagnosed the previous year as having a learning disability and had an Individual Education Plan. My teachers and peers tried every intervention. I cried my way through the Handwriting Without Tears curriculum, and my penmanship did not improve. I had a peer work with me on writing my name on a slate with chalk at recess. I made little improvement. In second grade when cursive was introduced, I became more frustrated. I learned to sign a crude version of my name and did not master every letter of the cursive alphabet. My peers would look at my handwriting and say that I was messy. I have also been told I have the handwriting of a serial killer. My teacher was complaining about my handwriting. A guy in my class said, “If you want to be a writer, you’re going to have to be neat.” My teacher then said, “Judging by your handwriting, I can see how your room probably looks.” She was correct that my room was messy, but that was an issue of organization, not handwriting. I was also compared to people who had nice penmanship. “Just look at how neatly he makes his letters!” The handwriting was impressive, but no matter how hard I tried, mine never improved. Despite my struggles with handwriting, I enjoyed writing stories and poems. I wasn’t going to let bad handwriting get in the way of expressing myself. Learning how to type in high school was a struggle with my hand dexterity. The standard course of study for typing is one semester. It took me a full year to learn how to type and it was well worth it. If I typed assignments, the teacher did not have to decipher my handwriting. I was able to get my ideas out without the shame of how bad my printing looked. The stigma did not end when I graduated from high school. I often had my mom scribe for me on job applications. She has beautiful handwriting. Many jobs would see my handwriting and think I couldn’t do the job. They viewed me as lazy or sloppy based on my penmanship. I have also had jobs when I was hired but my employer did not understand why my handwriting was not neat. I was told things such as “neatness counts” and “your handwriting is unique.” Despite my struggles with handwriting, I am not against schools teaching handwriting. I do think that it is important to know how letters are formed. I also think you need to learn how to sign your name. I had to sign so many papers when we bought our home. But I’m fighting against the stigma that a person who has poor handwriting is lazy, sloppy, not trying or less than others. My difficulties with handwriting involve dysgraphia. Dysgraphia is a brain-based disorder that affects fine motor skills that are necessary to write legibly. Dysgraphia can also affect the ability to spell correctly. In children, it often accompanies other learning disabilities or attention deficit disorder. Adults can develop dysgraphia after a brain injury. My grandpa had a stroke and it affected his handwriting. He had beautiful handwriting prior to the stroke and struggled to write his name afterward. Treatment for dysgraphia involves the use of graph paper, pencil grips and teaching typing early. It is important not to criticize the handwriting of a person with dysgraphia. The person is trying their best to write and has little control over the signals their brain is giving to their hands. I still struggle with handwriting today. Oftentimes the students I work with cannot read my handwriting. Sometimes I struggle to read my own. Thankfully, the student who told me that I had to be neat to be a writer was wrong. I have been published and all of my writing submissions have been typed. I use tools such as spell check and grammar check. My husband is also the greatest editor. My handwriting may not be the neatest, but I no longer feel shame about it. I have not let it stop me from doing what I wanted to do.

How My Learning Disability Affects My Handwriting

From the time I was a young child, I struggled with my handwriting. Much of the difficulty is due to my learning disability and limited hand dexterity. I can remember feeling the shame and stigma of poor handwriting in elementary school. In first grade, I received a W indicating weakness on my report card for my handwriting. I was diagnosed the previous year as having a learning disability and had an Individual Education Plan. My teachers and peers tried every intervention. I cried my way through the Handwriting Without Tears curriculum, and my penmanship did not improve. I had a peer work with me on writing my name on a slate with chalk at recess. I made little improvement. In second grade when cursive was introduced, I became more frustrated. I learned to sign a crude version of my name and did not master every letter of the cursive alphabet. My peers would look at my handwriting and say that I was messy. I have also been told I have the handwriting of a serial killer. My teacher was complaining about my handwriting. A guy in my class said, “If you want to be a writer, you’re going to have to be neat.” My teacher then said, “Judging by your handwriting, I can see how your room probably looks.” She was correct that my room was messy, but that was an issue of organization, not handwriting. I was also compared to people who had nice penmanship. “Just look at how neatly he makes his letters!” The handwriting was impressive, but no matter how hard I tried, mine never improved. Despite my struggles with handwriting, I enjoyed writing stories and poems. I wasn’t going to let bad handwriting get in the way of expressing myself. Learning how to type in high school was a struggle with my hand dexterity. The standard course of study for typing is one semester. It took me a full year to learn how to type and it was well worth it. If I typed assignments, the teacher did not have to decipher my handwriting. I was able to get my ideas out without the shame of how bad my printing looked. The stigma did not end when I graduated from high school. I often had my mom scribe for me on job applications. She has beautiful handwriting. Many jobs would see my handwriting and think I couldn’t do the job. They viewed me as lazy or sloppy based on my penmanship. I have also had jobs when I was hired but my employer did not understand why my handwriting was not neat. I was told things such as “neatness counts” and “your handwriting is unique.” Despite my struggles with handwriting, I am not against schools teaching handwriting. I do think that it is important to know how letters are formed. I also think you need to learn how to sign your name. I had to sign so many papers when we bought our home. But I’m fighting against the stigma that a person who has poor handwriting is lazy, sloppy, not trying or less than others. My difficulties with handwriting involve dysgraphia. Dysgraphia is a brain-based disorder that affects fine motor skills that are necessary to write legibly. Dysgraphia can also affect the ability to spell correctly. In children, it often accompanies other learning disabilities or attention deficit disorder. Adults can develop dysgraphia after a brain injury. My grandpa had a stroke and it affected his handwriting. He had beautiful handwriting prior to the stroke and struggled to write his name afterward. Treatment for dysgraphia involves the use of graph paper, pencil grips and teaching typing early. It is important not to criticize the handwriting of a person with dysgraphia. The person is trying their best to write and has little control over the signals their brain is giving to their hands. I still struggle with handwriting today. Oftentimes the students I work with cannot read my handwriting. Sometimes I struggle to read my own. Thankfully, the student who told me that I had to be neat to be a writer was wrong. I have been published and all of my writing submissions have been typed. I use tools such as spell check and grammar check. My husband is also the greatest editor. My handwriting may not be the neatest, but I no longer feel shame about it. I have not let it stop me from doing what I wanted to do.

Don't Compare What People With Disabilities Can Do

One of the most difficult parts of having a learning disability is often not the condition itself, but instead the reactions of others. I have had people think that if they can’t see my disability, then it doesn’t exist. The most hurtful thing, though, is when people compare me to other people with disabilities. When I was in college, a peer asked me why I couldn’t drive. When I told her that I can’t drive due to my visual perception, she responded by telling me that she knew someone who had a disability and could drive. There are people with learning disabilities who are able to drive, and there are also those who can’t. I have also had people assume that I must struggle with reading or have dyslexia because of my learning disability. When I tell them I have dyscalculia, few people are familiar with it. When I explain it’s a math disability, people compare it to their own struggles with math. I don’t know if someone truly struggles with math or has a disability, but I do know that I have a math-related disability that goes deeper than simply being “bad at math.” Another frustrating comparison is when people tell me that a person with a disability has achieved something “despite having a disability.” One of my middle-school teachers shared a story with us about a man who was paralyzed after an accident and could do many things. After sharing the story, the teacher said she didn’t want to hear us saying we couldn’t do something, because if he could do it, so could we. This teacher also denied my requests to go to my learning support teacher when I needed help on an assignment and to have tests read to me. She told me that I was becoming “too dependent” on my learning support teacher. Sadly, this was not the only example I have of being compared to another with a disability. I struggle with hand dexterity, so I’m unable to wrap gifts. I watched a video of a woman missing both of her limbs who was able to wrap Christmas presents. She said, “If I can wrap gifts, anyone can!” It still doesn’t change that no matter how hard I try, I can’t wrap gifts. My hand dexterity struggles make drawing and handwriting difficult. People have compared me to artists who didn’t have limbs and painted with brushes in their mouths. I saw a demo of an artist doing this at an art show, and he was truly talented, but I can’t paint well myself, and people shouldn’t compare me to him. I’m happy that other people with disabilities have found ways to do everyday tasks and pursue their passions. What is frustrating, though, is the idea that these happy stories can turn into “inspiration porn.” “Inspiration porn” objectifies the person with a disability and their ability. Many people get the false idea that people with disabilities can do anything. When the person with the disability can’t perform to those expectations, they are often shamed or labeled as “lazy” — even though they aren’t. Another difficult comparison is when people say that others “have it worse” or are more disabled than I am. I once struggled at a job and heard my boss tell me that another employee was “more disabled” than I was as a way to tell me to do the job better. When I couldn’t perform my job duties to their satisfaction, I was fired. I’ve also vented to peers about the frustrations of struggling in classes. People told me that other people “had it worse” and to stop complaining. This reaction hurt me because my struggles matter as much as anyone else’s. I realize that each disability brings its own challenges and joys. I also realize that all people struggle at some point in their lives. Everyone with disabilities will experience their disabilities differently — even if they have the same type of disability. What works for one person may not work for someone else. In order for me to be successful, I have to look for different ways to do things. Some things, such as math or driving, I simply can’t do. Telling me to “be grateful for what I can do” or pointing out other people who can do these things is not helpful. What is helpful is when people listen, accept, and honor not only the disability but also the person with the disability. When we compare and judge people with disabilities, we often don’t get to truly know and love them for who they are.

Don't Compare What People With Disabilities Can Do

One of the most difficult parts of having a learning disability is often not the condition itself, but instead the reactions of others. I have had people think that if they can’t see my disability, then it doesn’t exist. The most hurtful thing, though, is when people compare me to other people with disabilities. When I was in college, a peer asked me why I couldn’t drive. When I told her that I can’t drive due to my visual perception, she responded by telling me that she knew someone who had a disability and could drive. There are people with learning disabilities who are able to drive, and there are also those who can’t. I have also had people assume that I must struggle with reading or have dyslexia because of my learning disability. When I tell them I have dyscalculia, few people are familiar with it. When I explain it’s a math disability, people compare it to their own struggles with math. I don’t know if someone truly struggles with math or has a disability, but I do know that I have a math-related disability that goes deeper than simply being “bad at math.” Another frustrating comparison is when people tell me that a person with a disability has achieved something “despite having a disability.” One of my middle-school teachers shared a story with us about a man who was paralyzed after an accident and could do many things. After sharing the story, the teacher said she didn’t want to hear us saying we couldn’t do something, because if he could do it, so could we. This teacher also denied my requests to go to my learning support teacher when I needed help on an assignment and to have tests read to me. She told me that I was becoming “too dependent” on my learning support teacher. Sadly, this was not the only example I have of being compared to another with a disability. I struggle with hand dexterity, so I’m unable to wrap gifts. I watched a video of a woman missing both of her limbs who was able to wrap Christmas presents. She said, “If I can wrap gifts, anyone can!” It still doesn’t change that no matter how hard I try, I can’t wrap gifts. My hand dexterity struggles make drawing and handwriting difficult. People have compared me to artists who didn’t have limbs and painted with brushes in their mouths. I saw a demo of an artist doing this at an art show, and he was truly talented, but I can’t paint well myself, and people shouldn’t compare me to him. I’m happy that other people with disabilities have found ways to do everyday tasks and pursue their passions. What is frustrating, though, is the idea that these happy stories can turn into “inspiration porn.” “Inspiration porn” objectifies the person with a disability and their ability. Many people get the false idea that people with disabilities can do anything. When the person with the disability can’t perform to those expectations, they are often shamed or labeled as “lazy” — even though they aren’t. Another difficult comparison is when people say that others “have it worse” or are more disabled than I am. I once struggled at a job and heard my boss tell me that another employee was “more disabled” than I was as a way to tell me to do the job better. When I couldn’t perform my job duties to their satisfaction, I was fired. I’ve also vented to peers about the frustrations of struggling in classes. People told me that other people “had it worse” and to stop complaining. This reaction hurt me because my struggles matter as much as anyone else’s. I realize that each disability brings its own challenges and joys. I also realize that all people struggle at some point in their lives. Everyone with disabilities will experience their disabilities differently — even if they have the same type of disability. What works for one person may not work for someone else. In order for me to be successful, I have to look for different ways to do things. Some things, such as math or driving, I simply can’t do. Telling me to “be grateful for what I can do” or pointing out other people who can do these things is not helpful. What is helpful is when people listen, accept, and honor not only the disability but also the person with the disability. When we compare and judge people with disabilities, we often don’t get to truly know and love them for who they are.

Don't Compare What People With Disabilities Can Do

One of the most difficult parts of having a learning disability is often not the condition itself, but instead the reactions of others. I have had people think that if they can’t see my disability, then it doesn’t exist. The most hurtful thing, though, is when people compare me to other people with disabilities. When I was in college, a peer asked me why I couldn’t drive. When I told her that I can’t drive due to my visual perception, she responded by telling me that she knew someone who had a disability and could drive. There are people with learning disabilities who are able to drive, and there are also those who can’t. I have also had people assume that I must struggle with reading or have dyslexia because of my learning disability. When I tell them I have dyscalculia, few people are familiar with it. When I explain it’s a math disability, people compare it to their own struggles with math. I don’t know if someone truly struggles with math or has a disability, but I do know that I have a math-related disability that goes deeper than simply being “bad at math.” Another frustrating comparison is when people tell me that a person with a disability has achieved something “despite having a disability.” One of my middle-school teachers shared a story with us about a man who was paralyzed after an accident and could do many things. After sharing the story, the teacher said she didn’t want to hear us saying we couldn’t do something, because if he could do it, so could we. This teacher also denied my requests to go to my learning support teacher when I needed help on an assignment and to have tests read to me. She told me that I was becoming “too dependent” on my learning support teacher. Sadly, this was not the only example I have of being compared to another with a disability. I struggle with hand dexterity, so I’m unable to wrap gifts. I watched a video of a woman missing both of her limbs who was able to wrap Christmas presents. She said, “If I can wrap gifts, anyone can!” It still doesn’t change that no matter how hard I try, I can’t wrap gifts. My hand dexterity struggles make drawing and handwriting difficult. People have compared me to artists who didn’t have limbs and painted with brushes in their mouths. I saw a demo of an artist doing this at an art show, and he was truly talented, but I can’t paint well myself, and people shouldn’t compare me to him. I’m happy that other people with disabilities have found ways to do everyday tasks and pursue their passions. What is frustrating, though, is the idea that these happy stories can turn into “inspiration porn.” “Inspiration porn” objectifies the person with a disability and their ability. Many people get the false idea that people with disabilities can do anything. When the person with the disability can’t perform to those expectations, they are often shamed or labeled as “lazy” — even though they aren’t. Another difficult comparison is when people say that others “have it worse” or are more disabled than I am. I once struggled at a job and heard my boss tell me that another employee was “more disabled” than I was as a way to tell me to do the job better. When I couldn’t perform my job duties to their satisfaction, I was fired. I’ve also vented to peers about the frustrations of struggling in classes. People told me that other people “had it worse” and to stop complaining. This reaction hurt me because my struggles matter as much as anyone else’s. I realize that each disability brings its own challenges and joys. I also realize that all people struggle at some point in their lives. Everyone with disabilities will experience their disabilities differently — even if they have the same type of disability. What works for one person may not work for someone else. In order for me to be successful, I have to look for different ways to do things. Some things, such as math or driving, I simply can’t do. Telling me to “be grateful for what I can do” or pointing out other people who can do these things is not helpful. What is helpful is when people listen, accept, and honor not only the disability but also the person with the disability. When we compare and judge people with disabilities, we often don’t get to truly know and love them for who they are.

Don't Compare What People With Disabilities Can Do

One of the most difficult parts of having a learning disability is often not the condition itself, but instead the reactions of others. I have had people think that if they can’t see my disability, then it doesn’t exist. The most hurtful thing, though, is when people compare me to other people with disabilities. When I was in college, a peer asked me why I couldn’t drive. When I told her that I can’t drive due to my visual perception, she responded by telling me that she knew someone who had a disability and could drive. There are people with learning disabilities who are able to drive, and there are also those who can’t. I have also had people assume that I must struggle with reading or have dyslexia because of my learning disability. When I tell them I have dyscalculia, few people are familiar with it. When I explain it’s a math disability, people compare it to their own struggles with math. I don’t know if someone truly struggles with math or has a disability, but I do know that I have a math-related disability that goes deeper than simply being “bad at math.” Another frustrating comparison is when people tell me that a person with a disability has achieved something “despite having a disability.” One of my middle-school teachers shared a story with us about a man who was paralyzed after an accident and could do many things. After sharing the story, the teacher said she didn’t want to hear us saying we couldn’t do something, because if he could do it, so could we. This teacher also denied my requests to go to my learning support teacher when I needed help on an assignment and to have tests read to me. She told me that I was becoming “too dependent” on my learning support teacher. Sadly, this was not the only example I have of being compared to another with a disability. I struggle with hand dexterity, so I’m unable to wrap gifts. I watched a video of a woman missing both of her limbs who was able to wrap Christmas presents. She said, “If I can wrap gifts, anyone can!” It still doesn’t change that no matter how hard I try, I can’t wrap gifts. My hand dexterity struggles make drawing and handwriting difficult. People have compared me to artists who didn’t have limbs and painted with brushes in their mouths. I saw a demo of an artist doing this at an art show, and he was truly talented, but I can’t paint well myself, and people shouldn’t compare me to him. I’m happy that other people with disabilities have found ways to do everyday tasks and pursue their passions. What is frustrating, though, is the idea that these happy stories can turn into “inspiration porn.” “Inspiration porn” objectifies the person with a disability and their ability. Many people get the false idea that people with disabilities can do anything. When the person with the disability can’t perform to those expectations, they are often shamed or labeled as “lazy” — even though they aren’t. Another difficult comparison is when people say that others “have it worse” or are more disabled than I am. I once struggled at a job and heard my boss tell me that another employee was “more disabled” than I was as a way to tell me to do the job better. When I couldn’t perform my job duties to their satisfaction, I was fired. I’ve also vented to peers about the frustrations of struggling in classes. People told me that other people “had it worse” and to stop complaining. This reaction hurt me because my struggles matter as much as anyone else’s. I realize that each disability brings its own challenges and joys. I also realize that all people struggle at some point in their lives. Everyone with disabilities will experience their disabilities differently — even if they have the same type of disability. What works for one person may not work for someone else. In order for me to be successful, I have to look for different ways to do things. Some things, such as math or driving, I simply can’t do. Telling me to “be grateful for what I can do” or pointing out other people who can do these things is not helpful. What is helpful is when people listen, accept, and honor not only the disability but also the person with the disability. When we compare and judge people with disabilities, we often don’t get to truly know and love them for who they are.

I'm Not 'Lucky' That I Can't Drive Because of My Learning Disability

When I tell people that I can’t drive because of my disability, I get a variety of responses. I have had people offer solutions to try to cure me or look at me in disbelief. I’ve been told “You’re so lucky that you don’t have to drive.” I was shocked that someone would say something like that. I calmly told this person that not driving has its advantages and disadvantages. They continued to insist I was “lucky.” I may not have to experience driving in bad weather and having the other responsibilities of owning a car, but not being able to drive creates a set of complications that a person who drives does not have to experience. If I want to go somewhere that I can’t walk to, I need to coordinate a ride to get there and back. I’ve had to turn down jobs that paid well and I would have been qualified to do because the job required driving or traveling. Many jobs require a driver’s license, not a state identification card, even if driving is not required. I have gone into interviews and I was honest that I couldn’t drive. I had interviews where that went well and I got the job. I also had interviews where it did not go over well that I didn’t drive. I remember one where the interviewer asked, “How are we supposed to handle it if the bus is late?” The stigma that surrounds a person without a license is that they are unmotivated and unreliable. Putting a driver’s license in the job description is a form of discrimination. Employment laws may prohibit an employer from not hiring someone based on a disability, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen. Putting the license requirement in the job description discourages people who don’t have a license from applying. If I’m hired for a job, I will find a way to do it and I will ensure that I can get there. I’m honest about not being able to drive because if driving is an essential part of the job, I’m not the person they are looking for. Shame is also part of the stigma attached to a person who doesn’t drive. I had a person come up to me and tell me, “You should be ashamed of yourself for not driving.” I explained to her that I couldn’t drive because of my disability. She was not aware of that and compared me to a man who wouldn’t drive because he didn’t want to be separated from his mother. I also had a partner tell me that he was tired of taking me around when we broke up. He also said I could drive if I really wanted to. What many people don’t understand is that it is not my eyes preventing me from driving, it’s my brain. My visual perception difficulties involve my reaction time, eye-hand coordination and distinguishing my right from my left. I have learned to work on body awareness through exercise and that has helped, but I don’t feel comfortable driving and if my visual perception went out I’m afraid I may hurt someone. Instead of telling me how lucky I was to not have to drive, I wish that person had said I was lucky to have a strong support system. I have friends and family that take me places. My support system has also grown to have a wonderful husband who takes me to work and on many adventures together. He likes driving and doesn’t mind that I can’t drive. I am also blessed with wonderful coworkers who give me rides home. I am so fortunate to have understanding people in my life — many people who don’t drive don’t have this. I was hesitant to ask for rides because of ignorant comments in the past. I am so glad that I didn’t let the discouraging comments prevent me from reaching out to kind people. I have accepted that driving is not in my best interest because of my learning disability. Other people in the past have had trouble accepting that I couldn’t drive. Many people won’t understand not being able to drive unless they have to go through it themselves. I don’t wish that on anyone, but there are ways to get where I need to go. Not being able to drive is neither lucky or unlucky. I simply have to find different routes to get where I want to go and not let my disability stop me from being successful.