I hated feeling like a failure. I was a bright student. One of the specialists I went to at one point in my childhood told my parents that my IQ was high — almost in the gifted range. But I still couldn’t read!

“Ma, it’s not so simple finding a friend in 12th grade,” I said bitterly. “Everyone has their friends already, and anyway, nobody is even interested in me.” I began to cry, wallowing in self-pity like a stereotypical self-righteous teenager.

My mother looked at me for a second and then left the room, leaving me alone with my misery.

That night, I got a phone call from Miriam. We spoke for hours. I felt so much better after the phone call, but still couldn’t go to bed after we hung up, as tired as I was. Something she said was echoing in my head.

“Both of us have the right to drown ourselves in self-pity,” she told me, “but we could use those energies and do something useful instead. It’s all about our mindset. If we pity ourselves, we’ll turn into pitiful people who deserve the pity of others. If we channel this energy toward something productive, we’ll turn into better people, and in turn, society will view us more positively.” Her words were a bit halting — she was never one to preach — but I understood what she meant. She’d changed, Miriam. Challenge was making her stronger….

What about me? Was my challenge making me stronger?

I had spent the past two years pitying myself. I made myself miserable; I made myself pathetic; I felt sorry for myself. I spent so much energy being angry at people in my life that I didn’t even think about moving past the present.  Being angry, and lashing out at people like Mrs. Adler, for instance, might have made me feel better at the time, but I gained nothing from it. I hadn’t done anything to improve myself or my reading.

What did you think, the solution would come on its own? I asked myself. That one day you’d just be able to read and this whole nightmare would be over?

I was ashamed to realize how childish and immature I had been for the past few years. And look where I was now: friendless, my grades hitting rock bottom when I was capable of so much more, my teachers thinking so poorly of me….

Did it always have to be like that? Could I change it? My issue with reading wouldn’t go away, but could my attitude toward it change? And what would happen if it did?

to be continued…

(Originally featured in Mishpacha Jr., Issue 879)