Therapy, Emotions, and Finding My Voice with NLD
This chapter is deeply personal. It explores how I’ve dealt with my emotions across different stages of life—childhood, adolescence, college, and adulthood—while living with Nonverbal Learning Disability (NLD). I won’t be citing articles this time. Instead, I want to speak directly from experience.
I do want to give a gentle warning: some parts of this chapter touch on childhood sexual abuse, emotional struggles, and betrayal in relationships. If you or someone you love has faced similar challenges, please take care of yourself while reading.
Childhood: Silence and Suppression
As a child, I learned to suppress my emotions. I didn’t even realize I was doing it—it became automatic. I wanted to keep my abuse a secret, and I thought it was my fault. Because of that, I bottled everything up.
I didn’t know how to ask for what I wanted. Instead, I would stand near something I hoped for, sometimes pointing at it, and repeat “I love you” to my mom. Desire is a positive emotion, but even that got tangled up in secrecy and fear.
Looking back, I see how this early suppression made it difficult to name or label my emotions as I got older. I simply wasn’t used to feeling, releasing, or expressing them.
Preteens: Disclosure and the Beginning of Therapy
When I was twelve, I realized I was the only one who could stop the abuse. I finally disclosed it to my family. That moment changed everything. I also began therapy, which at first I resisted—I didn’t think I needed it. But therapy turned out to be a lifesaver.
I learned coping mechanisms that shaped the rest of my life:
Sharing triggers with my mom, even if she was busy, so I wouldn’t carry them alone.
Lucid dreaming and journaling my nightmares to get them out of my head.
Writing letters I never sent to people who hurt me, as a way to process anger and practice honesty.
These tools gave me a way to let go, little by little. They also helped me learn that trust—once broken—is difficult to rebuild, but possible with time and honesty.
High School: Expressing More Freely
By high school, therapy had taught me the importance of letting emotions out rather than bottling them up. Group therapy, especially, showed me how lucky I was to have a supportive family.
My parents and brother stood by me, no matter what. They paid for years of therapy, listened when I needed to talk, and helped me learn healthier ways to express myself. Their support gave me a foundation I still rely on today.
College: Homesickness and Emotional Overload
College at UC Berkeley was another turning point. I was close to my family, and being away from home was hard. I often cried during runs, three times a week, not caring who heard me.
At times, I considered taking a semester off because I felt so emotionally overwhelmed. I also developed daily migraines that lasted for years, not realizing what they were until much later.
But again, my family was there. My brother lived nearby, my parents encouraged me to get tested, and they supported me academically—proofreading papers, making meals, and helping me manage stress.
Adulthood: New Challenges, New Tools
Adulthood brought different emotional challenges. I experienced heartbreak in my first romantic relationship, and later, the pain of being conned by someone I thought loved me. Both experiences were devastating.
Now, I try to give “voice to the voiceless,” borrowing a phrase from Ela Gandhi. For me, that means speaking honestly about NLD and about my emotions—even the messy ones.
Some of the ways I manage emotions today include:
Allowing myself to cry or be angry without shame.
Channeling anger through movement, like imagining a punching bag while running.
Releasing frustration physically, whether by screaming into a pillow, throwing rocks, or simply letting it out in small doses.
I’ve learned that the longer emotions are bottled up, the more powerful—and potentially harmful—they become when they finally surface.
Final Reflections
I know this chapter has been heavy, but I wanted to share my truth. My coping skills may not work for everyone, but I hope they inspire you to think about your own. Maybe you’ll journal about your emotions, or maybe you’ll find creative ways to release them.
Most of all, I encourage you to acknowledge your gifts and differences. With practice, some differences can become easier to manage, even if they never fully disappear.
Thank you for walking with me through this part of my journey.
