What I Want You to Know is a series of
reader submissions. It is an attempt to allow people to tell their
personal stories, in the hopes of bringing greater compassion to the
unique issues each of us face. If you would like to submit a story to
this series,
click here. Today’s guest posts is by an anonymous reader.



I have Turner Syndrome. Normal females are born with 2 X chromosones.
Turners Syndrome is a chromosomal abnormality in which all or part of
one of the sex chromosomes is absent. Turner Syndrome is a rare
condition, affecting about 1 in 2,500 females. In my case, Turner
Syndrome was diagnosed while my Mother was pregnant. People living with
turners syndrome do not have any mental disabilities, besides minor
problems with spatial reasoning and certain non- verbal learning
disabilities. I did well in school and graduated with a college degree.
However, it has always been very obvious to me that I am physically, and
biologically different than most other girls. I have outward female
characteristics, such as breasts, only because I of hormone replacement
therapy. I was do not have ovaries, fallopian tubes or eggs. Obviously, I
am infertile. I am about the size of a ten year old, only 4’9.

I am
very small, even though I had growth hormone injections every day from
the age of 4 – 10. Psychologically, I have suffered. For many years, my
condition made me feel less than human, like some kind of freak. I hated
my body. I thought my body was useless because it would never carry a
child. I was also livid, full of rage toward God.

Until very recently, I
was convinced it was my fault, having Turners Syndrome. This may sound
crazy, but I thought I should have been stronger and willed my weak body
into submission. I thought if I prayed hard enough normally functioning
reproductive organs would magically appear. To be honest, I still don’t
understand why I was born this way. But the thing is, I was, I have
Turners Syndrome, and that will never change.

Now, I am learning love
for myself, despite my flaws. I am embracing the beautiful truth that I
have a right to be on this earth, just like every other human being. I
am learning to focus on the abundant blessings which fill my life.
Despite the progress I have made, I still have a long way to go.

So,
what do I want you to know? I want you to know that it is like a knife
in my chest when strangers at the grocery store or airport comment on my
height, even though I try to make a joke out of the situation. I want
you to know that I still feel a bit like dying every time I see a
pregnant woman. I want you to know that I am tired of magazines and
television shows subtly, yet forcefully, telling me I am ugly. I want
you to know that I wish I had let myself be happier all of these years
instead of waging a war against myself. Slowly, painfully, I am
realizing that my reproductive organs do not define me. Most of all, I
wish I had trusted God instead of hating myself every single day.