From kindergarten to second grade I was in speech therapy. There were a lot of sounds and words I couldn’t say: R’s and Sh’s at the front of words and L’s at the end of words, to name a few.
Two or three times a week I would leave class and go down the hall to do therapy with a couple other kids. It was probably the most fun therapy I’ll ever have – We spent most of the time playing board games and occasionally talking while we looked in a mirror at our mouths. When I was in third grade, my school’s speech therapist left and was replaced. I sat down with the new lady, who flipped through a bunch of vocab cards and had me either read the words or define them, I no longer remember. Apparently I did very well, because she told me that my speech impediment wasn’t affecting my learning and I didn’t need therapy anymore. The next year I went to a different school and was invited to do speech therapy there, but I refused.
Several years before I was diagnosed with OCD and started cognitive behavioral therapy, and even more years before I was medicated for it, my mom took me to the pediatrician to get my mental issues checked out. I don’t remember what the tipping point for her was, but there were a lot of things I did that weren’t “normal.” I smelled my hands a lot, made weird noises and cleared my throat, had to touch both sides of my iPod Touch evenly, etc etc. So we went to the doctor’s. I must have been around seven, so I don’t remember much. I do remember walking up the stairs to the office building and having to backtrack so that my left and right feet hit the stairs evenly. I remember playing with some blocks and talking to a blonde lady. And I remember – or maybe my mom told me years later and I think I remember – the nice blonde lady telling my mother there was nothing to worry about, that I was just “quirky.” Spoiler alert – There was most definitely something to worry about.
The common theme here is medical or medical-adjacent professionals deciding that I didn’t fit the diagnostic criteria for something and didn’t need help, even though I definitely did. Something something, disability is socially constructed but impairment is rooted in reality, I don’t have the mental energy to elaborate on this more. (sorry)
Unruly Bodies 
It’s so hard for a person to advocate for themselves to make sure they are getting the help that they need, especially when they are told they don’t need help, or they are unsure if they actually need the help. This is even harder as a child because they don’t necessarily know what’s going on or that they may need more help than other children. It is unfair that people with disabilities even need to advocate for themselves in this way just to make sure they receive the things they need to live their life.
Thank you for posting about your experience! My partner has OCD, and was also in speech therapy – I never asked him about it, but now after reading your experience, I’m inclined to hear how his speech therapy experience was when he was younger. This was a great read, thank you for sharing!