When I was in kindergarten, I remember being in a session with the school physical therapist and her asking if I wanted to tell my classmates about my mild cerebral palsy.
I said no. I didn’t want anyone to know my secret, one filled with so much misplaced shame that even when I was in therapy at age 24, whenever my therapist would bring it up, I would shut down, unable to move or speak for the rest of the session.