Rewriting My Math Story After Years of Struggle

For as long as I can remember, math and I had a complicated relationship. From the moment numbers started dancing across chalkboards, I felt out of step. Equations were daunting, formulas were cryptic, and every wrong answer felt like a confirmation of my inadequacy.

Math became the subject I dreaded, the one that made me feel small and incapable. And as the years passed, the struggle deepened. Each failed test, each confusing concept, each glance at a blank worksheet only reinforced the narrative I’d crafted for myself: I’m just not a math person.

But what if that wasn’t the truth? What if my struggle with math wasn’t a reflection of my intelligence but of the way I’d been taught to approach it? What if the problem wasn’t with me — but with the story I was telling myself?

This is the story of how I began to rewrite my math narrative, one step, one problem, one breakthrough at a time.

The Early Years: The Story of “Not a Math Person”
Math anxiety started early. I remember sitting in class, staring at numbers and feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. While my classmates seemed to grasp concepts easily, I struggled to keep up.

Instead of asking for help, I hid my confusion. I copied down answers without understanding the steps, nodded along to explanations I didn’t follow, and hoped that, somehow, the math fog would lift. It didn’t.

The more I struggled, the more I distanced myself from math. I labeled myself as “not a math person,” a story that became a shield against failure. If I didn’t try, I couldn’t fail. If I didn’t care, the bad grades wouldn’t sting as much.

But deep down, the struggle gnawed at me. I wasn’t just failing at math — I was failing at believing in myself.

The Turning Point: Realizing It’s Not Too Late
For years, I avoided math whenever possible. I chose classes with minimal calculations, shied away from anything that required equations, and accepted the narrative that I would never be “good at math.”

Then, one day, I overheard a conversation between two classmates. One was struggling with a complex math problem, and the other calmly said, “I don’t get it yet, but I will. I just need more time.”

That word — yet — lingered in my mind. It was such a small, simple word, but it carried so much possibility. Maybe I didn’t understand math yet, but that didn’t mean I never would. Maybe my struggle wasn’t a fixed state but a temporary challenge.

That single word planted a seed of hope. Maybe I could rewrite my math story. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

How I Began to Rewrite My Math Story
Adopting a Growth Mindset
The biggest shift came when I started to see math as a skill to be learned, not a talent I either had or didn’t have.

Instead of saying, “I’m bad at math,” I began to say, “I’m working on my math skills.”
Instead of saying, “I don’t get it,” I started saying, “I don’t get it yet.”

This shift in language opened the door to curiosity. It allowed me to approach problems with less fear and more patience.

Breaking It Down Into Small Steps
Math can feel overwhelming when we look at it as one massive, monolithic subject. But when I started breaking it down into small, manageable steps, it became more approachable.

I started with basic concepts, ensuring I truly understood foundational principles before moving on to more complex topics.

I used online tutorials, math workbooks, and practice problems to build my confidence incrementally.

I celebrated small wins — correctly solving a single equation, understanding a tricky concept, or finding a pattern in a problem.

Each tiny victory was a reminder that I was making progress, even if it was slow.

Seeking Help Without Shame
For years, I avoided asking for help because I was afraid it would expose my ignorance. But the truth is, everyone needs help sometimes.

I started seeking out tutors, attending office hours, and joining study groups. I asked questions — even the “dumb” ones. And each time I asked for clarification, the math fog lifted a little more.

Learning to ask for help was one of the most empowering steps in rewriting my math story. It reminded me that struggling didn’t mean I was stupid — it just meant I was learning.

Reframing Mistakes as Learning Opportunities
In my old math story, every mistake was a failure — proof that I wasn’t cut out for math. But in my new story, mistakes became valuable feedback.

When I got a problem wrong, I started asking, “Where did I go off track?”

I reviewed my steps, identified where my understanding broke down, and tried again.

Instead of seeing mistakes as dead ends, I began to see them as pivotal learning moments.

The more I embraced my mistakes, the less power they had over me. They were no longer evidence of my inadequacy but proof that I was engaged, trying, and growing.

What I Gained from Rewriting My Math Story
Renewed Confidence: Math no longer felt like an insurmountable obstacle but a skill I was actively developing. Each small win built my confidence, reinforcing the belief that I could learn, improve, and succeed.

Greater Resilience: I learned to approach challenges with curiosity rather than fear. Mistakes didn’t derail me — they redirected me.

Empowerment: Rewriting my math story wasn’t just about math. It was about challenging the limiting narratives I’d carried for years and proving to myself that it’s never too late to learn something new.

The Takeaway: You’re Not Bad at Math — You’re Learning
Rewriting my math story wasn’t easy. It required me to confront years of self-doubt, unlearn old narratives, and adopt a growth mindset. But it was worth it.

I didn’t magically become a math genius. I still struggle with certain concepts, still make mistakes, still have days when numbers blur on the page. But now, instead of shutting down or giving up, I pause, take a breath, and remind myself, I’m learning.

Because math isn’t just about numbers or equations — it’s about persistence, problem-solving, and patience. And learning to rewrite our stories, whether about math or anything else, is the ultimate act of self-compassion.

Because no matter how many years we’ve struggled, no matter how many times we’ve stumbled, we can always choose to tell ourselves a new story — one where learning is a journey, not a destination.