My name is Cecily Ashford, and for much of my life, my learning disability shaped the way my family saw me.
My sister, Josephine, received expensive tutoring, encouragement, and preparation for a future within our family’s business. My father, Harold, approached me differently. Instead of helping me understand how I learned best, he often treated my struggles as evidence that I simply wasn’t capable.
So I learned to adapt.
The person who understood that best was my grandmother, Genevieve.
I spent many Sunday afternoons with her, and she never confused learning differently with lacking ability. She taught me to slow down, observe carefully, and trust that there was more than one way to solve a difficult problem.
Years later, I would understand how deeply those afternoons had shaped me.