Take Me As I Am 

For Theresa, the realization that something was different about the way she processed math began early. As a young child, she couldn’t remember phone numbers—those simple 7-digit sequences that most kids rattled off without effort. By middle school, the difference became official: she was told she would be attending special math classes “down the hall.” That hallway symbolized more than just physical distance—it marked a divide between her and her peers that would follow her into adulthood. 

What made it harder was that her struggles weren’t understood at home. Theresa recalls frustration, feelings of stupidity, and emotional pain as her parents failed to recognize the depth of her difficulty. “They didn’t try to help,” she said. “They just thought I wasn’t trying hard enough.” 

A Limited Dream—and an Unexpected Turn 

Theresa’s early belief in herself was shaped by these experiences. Convinced she couldn’t succeed in math, she set her sights on working in daycare—a job that didn’t require a college degree or any advanced math skills. “Children don’tcare if you know upper-level math. They care if you can sing songs and read simple books,” she said. Even that aspiration required the nudging of a high school teacher who saw her potential and helped her finish the needed coursework. 

Then came an unexpected push—from her husband. He insisted that she pursue a bachelor’s degree. A chance encounter at a college football tailgate changed her course: a woman mentioned she was an occupational therapist (OT) and that the program required only a basic college algebra class. “That was it,” Theresa recalls. She shifted her plans. Though her dream of becoming a neurobiologist was out of reach due to the math requirements, working with the special education population as an OT felt like a calling—and a meaningful compromise. 

The Emotional Toll and Coping Strategies 

Even today, Theresa is direct about the emotional toll of growing up with dyscalculia. “I spent the first 17 years of my life wondering what was wrong with me,” she says. “Why I felt so stupid. Why I wasn’t enough.” She’s worked hard to unlearn that narrative. 

Theresa lives by what she calls the “rule of three.” She allows herself to make three mistakes a day—and forgives herself for all of them. “If I get to a fourth, it’s time to call it a day,” she jokes. This practice helps manage the anxiety that still comes with numbers and unfamiliar math-based tasks. 

She avoids group work whenever possible, a protective measure against judgment or embarrassment. And she stays away from games with scoring or competition. “If I’m not going to win, why bother?” she says with a shrug. 

Navigating Math in Daily Life 

Theresa openly admits that mental math just isn’t possible for her. She’s accepted that fact, leans heavily on her calculator, and focuses on the math facts she can manage—2s, 5s, and 10s. The rest, she says, have gone into her “I don’t care bin.” 

Still, even calculators aren’t foolproof. She’s developed a strategy where she reads numbers aloud as she enters them, listening for something that doesn’t “sound right.” That’s her cue to seek help, and she’s built a supportive circle of people she trusts with those moments. One coworker even helped her manage her department’s budget, allowing a margin of error and guiding her toward balancing to zero—a goal she now proudly hits with the help of her calculator and self-checks. 

Other life strategies include: 

• Using her wedding ring to tell left from right while driving 

• Relying on technology, like speed dial and secure digital tools, to store PINs, phone numbers, and account information 

• Avoiding cooking when possible—she struggles with the combination of numbers and language in recipes, leading to skipped steps and mistakes 

• Triple-checking financial transactions, confirming everything against statements before finalizing anything 

A Message for Parents and Educators 

Theresa’s experience has made her a strong advocate for children with learning differences. Her biggest piece of advice to parents: Teach your child to forgive themselves. She remembers being pushed to try harder, to simply “overcome” her difficulties with effort. But it wasn’t effort that she lacked—it was understanding and support. 

She encourages educators and society at large to expand awareness of dyscalculia, which is still widely misunderstood. “Because it’s not visible, people assume it’s not real,” she explains. But the effects are real—on self-esteem, on opportunity, and on daily functioning. 

Her closing message is powerful: “Let people with dyscalculia be comfortable with their different way of doing math. We’re not broken—we just work differently. And we still have something valuable to give.” 

Thriving, Not Just Surviving 

Theresa may never become a neurobiologist, but she’s created a life filled with purpose, resilience, and authenticity. She has learned to respect her own boundaries, advocate for her needs, and share her experience in hopes of helping others. 

In her words, “Take me as I am. Or not. But this is how I get through life.”