When I was about seven years old, I realized I just think differently than everybody else.

I didn’t think like my parents.

I didn’t think like my friends.

I didn’t think like the people in my church.

For decades, even now as a business professor, I’ve puzzled over why I see the world in such a different way.

I’ve always felt a little strange.

I don’t follow conversations when there’s noise.

I struggle to put things together quickly.

Group discussions with more than three or four people overwhelm me.

Later in life I realized I have ADHD — and probably mild dyslexia — and that explained part of it.

But there’s another side:

I can persist far longer than most people.

I see patterns in research seminars that others can’t see.

My mind works in quirky, unusual ways that make sense to me even when they confuse other people.

Many of us look at ADHD, dyslexia, or high intelligence as “problems,”

but they often shape the very abilities that make us who we are.

There is no normal template.

There never was.

We all have something unusual — and that unusual thing is often the gift.