Once upon a time there was a boy.
He was a simple child, but he was not like other children.
He did not do well in school from the very beginning.
He could not tie his shoes, or write the word cat, or transition between different activities.
That child did not understand anything, but sadness at being different, happiness at being loved, anger at himself, and fear of the unknown.
The adult which that child grew into now understands a few things. He is less sad at being different. He is more happy at being loved, he is less angry at himself, and he is no longer as afraid of the unknown.
And so I am content with my life and who I am. Sure there are lots of things that could be better, but what I have now is so much better than anything I could have dreamed as a child.