I'd like to be out about being dyslexic, but I choke up when the opportunity arises to say I have it

I have dyslexia, it was diagnosed when I was in 2nd grade, again in 5th grade, again in 7th grade and then last year I was rescreened (just screened), and always the thing that came out was that I still have major issues. There has never been a question on whether I have dyslexia or not among those who tested me or those how treated me, but over the years I've gotten doubts from people. A teacher claimed dyslexia didn't exist, that I was just lazy. Friends have claimed that the problems I have are just because I live in a country whose main language is not my mother tongue (I know they were trying to be helpful). Other people have claimed that I can't have trouble distinguishing sounds, because I just distinguished between two sounds just fine. Mostly teachers have claimed that I'm just not listening. I've been told I just need to find a book I like and then I won't get fatigued by it, etc. Not only that, but I have doubted myself that I had dyslexia, because I can read, I can write, I don't see moving letters (I know this is not something all dyslexics experience, but seeing it claimed that dyslexics see moving letters over and over again still instilled a doubt in me for a long while), in texts I had generally slightly more grammar mistakes then spelling mistakes (my most common mistake is mixing up articles, there are three "the"s in the language I wrote in for most of my schooling, which is not my first language, half of the time they're basically just seemingly random. Why is a bottle feminine and a hat masculine??). So with my own doubt in the past and comments I've gotten from others, I started to not like to tell people I had dyslexia, even when I needed to (for example to a teacher, so I could get my accommodations), in fear that I'll get some claim from them doubting I have it or saying I can't have it. The fear is strongest when I'm unsure how they will react, but I also get that when I know the person won't doubt me and say I'm just this or that and not dyslexic.

Anyway, my university brings out a pamphlet thing with news and stuff on it every month, This month one of the topics was trying to make awareness of invisible disabilities (I thought it was really nice) and the front cover on it had three speech bubbles (translated): "I'm not scatterbrained, I have ADHD", "I'm not asocial, I'm autistic", "I'm not dumb, I'm dyslexic". So my friend and I were talking about the stupid claims made about their causes, such as "ADHD doesn't exist, it's caused by parents not disciplining their children", "Autism is caused by vaccines", "Dyslexia can't exist because reading is unnatural and it's just caused by lazy kids and bad teachers". I claimed often that I'm glad I don't have ADHD, because the number of people who don't believe ADHD exists here is very unfortunate, and is larger, or at least seems larger, then the number of people who don't believe in dyslexia. It's annoying enough having to deal with the fact that there are a bunch of people who think dyslexia isn't a thing, at least I don't have to deal with the ADHD-deniers as well, and a bit later she commented that it was good that we didn't have the disorders on the pamphlet and didn't have to deal with those claims at us, to which all I could manage to respond was: "hm, well...", not because I disagreed with her (I agree with her, dealing with stupid claims is annoying), but because I wanted to say I had dyslexia, it was the perfect opportunity, but I couldn't get it out.

When I finally felt I could come out and say I had dyslexia, the subject had changed.

I wish that I was directly asked if I had a disorder or if I had dyslexia, because if that happens I wouldn't lie, I don't lie about having a disability, I just keep it secret despite not really wanting to, so either I would say "yes" or "not saying", instead of just being silent and not saying anything out of fear of being found out, despite wanting to be found out.

Anyways, just a little rant because I was disappointed at myself, hopefully, the opportunity to say something arises again and I don't choke up that time.