“Disability is a matter of perception. If you can do just one thing well, you're needed by someone.”
-Martina Navratilova

Anyone who has been diagnosed with a learning disability knows the pain that comes with it. While the emotional scars will fade over time for some, they will never fade for others. No, for some, the stigma of the label is almost too much to bear. A prison without walls, if you will, the mere stigma of the label may prove to be a life-sentence, and unless the individual is surrounded by people who understand the struggles and emotional pain associated with the label, they will never come to fully realize their true potential. Regardless of the severity of the disability or disorder, all of us have potential.

Therefore, it can be said that “disability” is a matter of perception. I was diagnosed with a learning disability in the first grade at the age of six, and spent the next twelve years locked away in self-contained special education classrooms. The stigma that came with it gave me the perception that I was incapable of learning, that I was worthless, that I was useless to myself and the world. However, because I was surrounded by people that believed in me and my abilities, I was able to overcome the stigma and went on to lead a happy and successful life. This is not to say that there weren't days when I struggled to make sense of my learning difference. There were plenty of those, and still are to a degree. Yet, at the same time, I was surrounded by people – parents and teachers alike – who were there for me, who would pull me out from the rubble of insurmountable feelings of insecurity and self-doubt. I was surrounded by people who would wipe away my tears, people understood me, people who cared, people who believed in me.

By the time I reached high school, I was given the appropriate supports and services to be successful, and though there were days when I could not see the forest through the trees, I persevered. I persevered because, for the first time, I could see that there was light at the end of this very long, dark tunnel. I preserved because I had hope. I had hope because I was surrounded by people who gave me a reason to hope, who gave me a reason to believe – to believe that I was someone – someone very capable.

My parents, bless them both, always believed in me and my abilities. They saw the potential when I saw none. When I felt as though all hope was lost, they were always there to lift me up, giving me reason to believe in myself. Through the years, they cried with me, they laughed with me, they shared in my sorrow, and shared in my joy. They were there for me every step of the way. And they are still there for me today.

If you have a child with a disability or disorder of any kind, please, please know that there is hope. My parents endured twelve long years advocating for me and my education, hoping that, one day, I would find my way in the world. I did, and if you are diligent in advocating for your child (and I know you are), your child will find her way, too.

So, don’t lose hope. Don’t lose faith. Continue to believe. Surround your child with love and understanding and she, too, will come to realize her true potential – her full potential. Because "disability," truly, is only a matter of perception.

Craig Gibson is the Editor of SensorySpot.com, sister site of the internationally acclaimed AutismSpot.com. He is also a Feature Writer for AutismSpot.com. Craig was diagnosed with a learning disability at the age of six, and spent the next twelve years in special education. He has since earned two degrees and has published on the local and national levels.