I’ve been asked whether I ever feel as though I’m missing out on something because I cannot see. In short, yes. And there’s little I can do about it. So then what?
Many blind folks will try and put a brave face on, and I
usually do too. After all, what use is there in dwelling on the negatives? To
be sure there are negatives.
I cannot see my wife’s facial expressions or reactions. Can
I figure out what she’s thinking or expressing? Yes, by asking or listening,
but I miss out on seeing emotion sculpt her face. Not seeing faces sometimes makes
it difficult to interact with others.
I cannot see a sunset paint the sky and silhouette a range
of mountains. I can hike through those same mountains, but I miss out on the majesty
and subtlety of the colors drenching the peaks.
I cannot see an iPad. Yes, I can use an iPad, but, many of my
musician friends use their iPads on stage to read lyrics and chords and perform
unfamiliar music. For that matter, I can’t sight-read any music. I miss out!
Yes, of course I can play music and it is one of my greatest joys and
liberations, but I cannot read and simultaneously play a song.
So, we’ve got that out in the open. WE MISS OUT ……. on certain
things. So what then?
In many minds, sometimes including my own, the most important
thing about getting over it is problem solving. But I want to spend a little
time on mourning.
Loss of sight, while a perfectly surmountable condition, is
difficult. It’s ok, and, I believe, healthy, to grieve blindness.
You may have heard of the five stages of grief: denial,
anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. These stages are usually associated
with dealing with death. But they can help us understand and learn to live with
loss, in this case, the loss or absence of sight.
Denial is, in my mind, refusing to acknowledge blindness.
When I was maybe six years old, doctors prescribed a set of lenses for me. This
was probably to keep me from poking my fingers in to my eyes, but, I still
remember family and others asking me if I could see better. I couldn’t, and I
didn’t really know why, or even how to answer the question. There was likely no
curing my Retinitis Pigmentosa, but some were in denial. As I grew, I refused mobility training for a time; later, I minimized the use of a white cane. In retrospect, this may have been a
foolish denial on my part.
I still feel anger as I experience moments of inability to
surmount a problem my blindness creates. I hate being stranded, whether it’s a
late Dial-a-ride bus, or train stoppage, the inability to use a piece of
technology, or the stupid way I’m treated by some unthinking sighted person. I
even feel anger at myself when I spill something or trip over something left in
the middle of the floor, even if by me. Anger is a real part of coping with
blindness. Praying and deep breathing are some of my favorite coping strategies
in these situations.
I cannot think of a time when bargaining was a part of my
experience with my inability to see, but from my interactions with parents of
blind children, I can imagine that in the darkest moments they must have had
desperate conversations with God, or others in power to try and make things
better. This too is perfectly normal.
Though I have not had serious bouts of depression, I have
had moments when I have felt deeply empty, as though the surface attempts I
make at coping with blindness are no match for the loss. I’ve
felt as if few people can really understand and accept me and acknowledge my
potential. I’ve often felt that disability counseling should be an available
option for these times. As I understand it, this too is a perfectly normal
response to a great loss. We are not sick, just dealing with something
difficult.
Acceptance is where we are headed. This stage is about
accepting the reality in which we live. This doesn’t mean that blindness is
great! Few of us would choose it given the option. But it’s where we find
ourselves. Now we must continually learn to live in a world where sight is
unavailable to us. But, many other things are.
Our self-confidence, knowledge, education, personality,
support network, and many other tools are the way we succeed.
Do I miss out? Yes, on some things, and it is important to
acknowledge that. It is healthy to see it for what it is and move on from there
to make more of it.
Reference: http://grief.com/the-five-stages-of-grief/
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