“If at first you don’t succeed, dust yourself off and try again.”
– Aaliyah

My story begins at George Washington University. I was studying to become a teacher. I was filled with purpose and excited about changing lives, but I carried a secret. I was neurodivergent, and no one knew.

I had an invisible disability.

I could pass for “normal.” I didn’t look like I needed help. I didn’t want my professors, classmates, or future employers to know that I had challenges. So I pretended. I masked. I pushed through, trying to live up to everyone else’s expectations—including my own.

The downside? I couldn’t ask for accommodations. No extra time. No processing supports. And when it came to timed exams, I crumbled. I knew the material. I loved the content. But my brain needed just a little more time. A little more space.

And then came the PRAXIS exams, three of them, standing between me and my dream of specializing in math and special education. The pressure was real, and I didn’t have a plan B.

So I prayed.

And God showed up.

I passed. I got certified. But instead of feeling victorious, I felt…exhausted. Pride kept me from admitting that I still needed support. I moved into the classroom, trying to be the teacher I never had. I was good at it. But the struggle didn’t go away. Eventually, the stress took its toll.

I left.

And I started over.

I built my own business, one that integrated assistive technology from the ground up. I crafted my workspace and schedule around what worked for me. It was empowering, but I still hadn’t named my disability publicly. I told myself, “I’m thriving now. Why bring it up?”

But God wasn’t done with me.

Jonah 3:1 says, “Then the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time.”

God is the God of second chances. And in 2025, I took mine.

I came out.

I admitted my disability—first to myself, then to others. I called it what it was. I stopped hiding. And you know what? It was freedom. Not a weakness. Freedom. It gave me language to ask for what I need. To own how I work. To name the supports that help me shine.

Yes, there’s still stigma. There are still sideways glances and assumptions. But it’s worth it—for the accommodations I now receive, for the peace that comes with being honest.

A colleague once told me, “This is just another learning experience.” And she was right.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. I am a child of the Most High God. And I’ve learned that asking for help isn’t failure—it’s wisdom. It’s courage. It’s growth.

So if you’re carrying a secret or hiding a need, let me say this:

You can try again.
God gives second chances.
And sometimes, the second time is when you finally fly.

🎥 Watch the video that inspired this post: Try Again – Aaliyah (YouTube)

Copyright © 2025 by Edna Brown. All Rights Reserved.