Growing up without a diagnosis I knew I was different in kindergarten. I was clumsier than the other kids, always covered in scratches and bruises.
I tripped over rocks, stairways, curbs, litter, other kids, doorways, carpets, chairs, everything. One teacher told me I was “dreamy,” by which she meant I didn’t seem to see the things that happened around me.
A few times I failed to register that my parents had come to pick me up even though they stood 10 feet away waving and yelling.
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