A Slight Difference 

(Author: Black Bean, Age:14）  

I knew I was different my whole life. It was hard to not notice — I couldn't run as fast, I didn’t have the time to do as many things as everyone else had, and my life was just generally slower- paced than others. However, I never really considered this to be a big problem; I could still live my life normally, I could still make friends, I could still socialize like any normal human, I could still learn like anyone else and pursue my goals—it was simply that I had some extra things I needed to take care of every day.

I have a condition known as Spina Bifida. It, simply put, is the name for a condition where my spine isn’t fully developed at birth. The very interesting thing about it is there is such a wide range of possible symptoms—after all, the spine is such a central structure in the nervous system!—Including anything from no symptoms at all (the best case), to not being able to walk, talk, or function at all (assuming you can live). There are varying degrees and variations of Spina Bifida. I have the variant known as Spina Bifida Myelomeningocele, which is in fact classified as the most severe case of it—so severe, in fact, that before my birth in China, many doctors recommended abortion, and even on the day I was born, my own grandparents had suggested to my parents to leave me up for adoption—but they refused to give up, and here I am today, completely functional, happy and healthy. I feel extremely lucky to be alive as I am today—and even saying this, I feel, is a massive understatement that does not do enough justice to the incredible amount of luck that I had growing up. 

Of course, having such a condition, for one thing, meant that I needed to do some things that other people didn’t—for example, I took more time doing things like using the restroom—which meant that sometimes, people would—perhaps out of curiosity—ask me questions about this, and my response was always the same—I would simply describe my condition as a simple inconvenience. I never personally found the questions rude or offensive in any way. I simply accepted them as natural factors of other people’s curiosity. But, very occasionally, there were times when I did feel like someone unnecessarily called me out because of this. 

It was a warm and bright summer day. The sun shone brightly in the clear blue sky, and there were a few wisps of puffy white clouds dotted here and there. I was studying together with my friends; we happened to be studying some human anatomy. The teacher eventually came to the subject of the spine, how it functioned, and what could go wrong. I didn’t think much of it and was simply listening when one of my friends said: “Don’t you know? He also has a problem in his spine or something”, he said, referring to me. The moment this happened, I felt a sudden mix of emotions—confusion, embarrassment, and overall mortification. I was worried the others might think of me as an abnormal person, might think that I was weird or strange—in some way just not right.

But then, as fast as the feelings had come, they faded—I decided to put it aside, because it, like many others to come, would probably just be something that I had to face throughout life; I choose to simply move on, and instead just openly embrace everything I encounter, no matter what. After all, I am both an extreme exception and a slight difference.