Growing up, I was good at things. I loved to read, draw and was the first in my class to be ‘upgraded’ to the once-coveted red handwriting pen. Heck, there was once a time when I was even quite good at running.
This, of course, was back at primary school. Young, creative and without a care in the world.
But even then, at just five years old, we were being compared to our peers. Who had the best handwriting, who was still writing the alphabet in pencil? God forbid if you were picked to read aloud in class, and were a slow reader!
I say this when actually, I was very fortunate during these years – I had what was considered ‘talent’. I could read books that were way above my age group, I won competitions for my artwork and could spell any word asked of...