Dear Listener, They say, in radio, you have to be a good story-teller, so here is my story. I hear that the key to success in the media industry is networking; knowing the right person at the right time. But, Listener, how do you network when you can't see who you are networking with?
Take sight out of the equation and everybody looks the same. They tell me, "It's all done online these days" but, of course, you have to meet in person eventually... So, what would you do, Listener? Do you lead with your vulnerability? Do you highlight the one problematic part of yourself you wish to minimise the most? Or do you, as I have done, smile and pretend, without having a clue what is really going on around you? It seems crazy to me that I have lived across the world and achieved a nationwide radio award in America, and yet my greatest struggles are right outside my front door at home. I so long to be that pro-active go-getter who impresses everyone with her daring and gains instant gratification for her confidence. The trouble is that I can't see who I need to pro-actively go get to impress in the first place. In my heart and mind, I have just as much passion and ambition as anyone else and, you know what Listener? Sometimes I wish I didn't. That way, I might not understand the heart-break and the frustration behind having something physical, which can sometimes keep me bound in blind isolation. I don't want to forgo my dream because of the way I was born. It seems ironic to me that I spend so much time worrying about my vision, when all I've ever really wanted is for someone to listen. Note from Author: I often get frustrated with the fact that I can't simply pin-point a person, walk up to them, know who they are, call them by their name and start a conversation. It is something so powerful and almost miraculous to me, yet something which anyone who doesn't have a visual impairment can take for granted and struggle to see the complications for those who find it difficult do so. After all, it's not that I don't want to approach people - and the thought that this may make those around me assume I am unsocial and uninterested breaks my heart, because I am an extremely outgoing individual inside. I am constantly reading stories of how some people swoop into the radio environment, make the tea for everyone without being directed and carve an instant career for themselves in the industry. Now, unless someone directed me towards the kettle, I would never find it - or the recipients of the tea for that matter - and, if you really want to set yourself a challenge today, try making cup of tea blind-folded. Believe me, it's more terrifying than you think! This factor plays out in both professional and social situations. It makes me so incredibly upset that I can't reach out to others in the way I so strongly desire to sometimes. However, that is why, when someone reaches out to me, it means so much more than any fully-sighted person might ever understand or experience. It is a feeling I treasure and a warm, open hand held out for me to take hold of. After that, I spend the rest of the time we share repaying them for their kindness. In short, that clever person has just found themselves a keeper!
Life is so fast-paced nowadays. Our society has become like a greedy child, thinking everything revolves around it and it needs everything right now! We can't just have food, we need fast food. We're no longer satisfied with the world wide web, we need it in super-fast 3G! We don't want to hear your life story, we want all your thoughts and feelings condensed down into a maximum of 140 characters, because otherwise - well, it just takes far too long. We sink through the hours of our day, like quick-sand taking hold and we simply don't have the time to stop. No, not even for the important things anymore... It always makes me laugh when people ask, "Tell me about yourself?" as if I can be summed up in a couple of choice sentences. Besides that, where do you begin? I could tell you about my hobbies or give you a long list of my favourites. I could paint you a vague overview of my past, with the details miniscule and pixelated. I could describe to you the people in my life and my relationship to all of them. But none of those things are who I am. They are only microscopic pieces of a much greater puzzle. The trouble is, that to really know someone requires time - and time is exactly the one thing which we are so often not willing to give. People like to rely on a list of statistics about you written out for them in black and white. That way, they can flick through at their leisure and see who matches up to their impossibly high expectations, distorted beyond reconciliation by our ever-growing pursuit for factual perfection. What these people never seem to question is, do objective facts really mean anything when it comes down to what a person is actually like? I never used to want anyone to find out the fact that I have something wrong with my eyes. I always wanted someone to get to know me first. That way, I would have a chance to show them that I am so much more than that as a person, before they dismissed me as a stereotype of what they thought they knew. Sometimes, even when you play it that way, on the day that the truth comes out, everything changes. Even in the 21st Century, people can have wonderful relationships for years on end and then one day, one of them discovers something about the other - a fact that they may have been born with or something which has developed naturally within them, entirely out of their control - and, all of a sudden, they can no longer be seen in the same way. This is why, when some people discover new information about themselves, they keep it all burrowed away inside - a skeleton in their closet - for fear that the ones they love most will abandon them if they ever find out their secret. Other times, people around you may loosely be aware of this fact about you already, but not really understand its importance to your life. And so, out of the blue, while you're going along as you always do, suddenly somebody sees the visual representation of what they discovered ages ago and have known all along, but have never experienced in this stark way before. It's your own personal normal, something you have accepted and deal with every day accordingly. Still, again, it has the power to change the way somebody looks at you. The funny thing is that it's always been there. If you liked someone as a person before, when a new fact about them which was previously over-shadowed in the background comes to light, it doesn't change who they are at all. Their personality is still the same. They are still all of those incredible things that you have come to admire and cherish. They still have the ability to do everything they could in the past - because, guess what, they've been doing it the whole time! I have been in situations where somebody has suddenly realised how much more of a struggle things can occasionally be for me and from then on, they feel as though they can dictate what I am and what I am not able to do, based on that. It is amazing how people make the word "difficult" an instant synonym for "impossible" at these times. The reality, of course, is that it has been difficult for me all along. Yet surely the mere fact that this has entirely escaped their notice for so long means that I can do it - and pretty well by the sounds of things! I'm still me. I'm still a person. And no person is just any single fact. There are so many facts which make up who every person in this world is. Some of them are facts relating to appearance, others are personality and still others are things like disability, sexuality, family background, race - the list goes on and on. Some facts come in large groups and others make up minorities. Some facts we have in common and others sculpt our subtle differences. All too often, people forget to see the full picture. One fact can never define anyone. One fact can never change who somebody is. One fact can certainly never make anything impossible. The ignorant run from factual differences. The wise know that our differences are to be embraced. Personally, I think they create character. Out of perspective, new information about someone means they can never be the same again. In perspective, one single fact amongst the vast make-up of millions of others in any given individual really doesn't make any difference whatsoever. When it comes down it, no two people in the world share completely identical statistics. We all have our own, unique ways of doing everything. If anything, it's what makes life interesting. Some facts change and some are always there, but try and make a list of all the facts about you. Trust me, you will have far too many. This is because, as people, we are so much more than singular pieces of factual information - and that alone is probably the most important fact you need to remember about anyone.
When people think about operations, the first thing that springs to mind is physical discomfort. How much would it hurt? Do you wake up in agony? Do you feel really ill? And if you do, how long must you suffer before you get better? When it is you having the operation, your mind starts to run wild. Stupid questions start popping up like, "What if I don't fall asleep in the first place?" "What if I wake up half-way through?" "What if I never recover?!" What if, what if, what if...
Of course, most of these questions are entirely irrelevant. After all, on the whole, the surgeons do know what they're doing. "But what if they don't know what they're doing? What if they make a mistake? What if something goes horribly wrong?" Doubt seems to quickly become your best buddy. The devil perched on your opposite shoulder to reassurance. The nagging, irritating itch that demands to be tended to and has a hundred negative suggestions to counteract every one of your positive possibilities.
Personally, I got so caught up in all these concerns of how my surgery might impact upon my outer-self, that I totally neglected to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for what was about to happen. I think it's a common mistake. Medicine is all so scientific, full of those long words you can't pronounce and certain procedures you have no chance of comprehending if you tried. It's all so practical and logical, that you forget about the parts of yourself shrouded by more than a gown, which cannot be visually examined inside the operating theatre, nor heard through the intricate mechanism of a stethoscope. Yet, your feelings and emotions are in for just as much of a rollercoaster ride as your body and will likely be left equally a little bit beaten and bruised around the edges.
However, through this experience, I have learned that love can conquer any kind of pain.
The tight knotting sensation inside of my stomach when I woke up on the morning of my eye operation could only signify my first strong emotion of the experience - I was, without a doubt, nervous as hell! I have always believed that one of the worst parts of doing something you really don't want to do is the taunting anticipation beforehand - and well, I had many hours worth of that to endure! It is as though a computer fan has started up inside your tummy, whirring away and rapidly consuming all of your energy at an increasingly alarming rate. Your body tries to help you out, cooling you down with sweat and initiating those great long, deep sighs we let out to maximise our oxygen intake. Anyone who has been nervous for any amount of time will tell you how exhausting it is, even when you're simply sitting there, twiddling your thumbs - in fact, in some ways, that only makes matters worse...
Every now and then though, I would receive a message of good luck, thinking of you, best wishes. As I read them, I pictured the people behind the words. I thought about the times we had spent together; all the ways we have made each other laugh. For that little while, as I lost myself in memories, I forgot I was supposed to be petrified. I was smiling, a wide, wonderful smile that lifted my cheeks, heart and mind all at the same time. It was like taking a sip of some bewitching potion, whose effects are fleeting, yet incredible. Doubt fought back for my attention like a spoilt child, reminding me how much pain I might soon be facing, but this time reassurance whispered, "Keep smiling. For a start, love always wins. You're loved; you'll be okay."
When I came round from my anesthetic, (which, incidentally, had worked after all) both my eye and my emotions stung. It was then, as I lay there in a hospital bed for no other reason except the way I had been born, that I realised how silly I had been to worry so much about my physical wounds. Inside, a wave of sadness crashed over me and a stormy sea of lost prospects swirled around me in the darkness. The expectations I hold for myself have always been extremely high and the idea of a life with limitations overwhelmingly terrified me.
The tide of negativity was getting too strong for me to swim against, I couldn't let my brain think any more. I reached for my phone, more as a distraction than anything else. I may have been sporting an eye-patch and showing an uncanny resemblance to a pirate right then, but I didn't need a map - I had already found my treasure.
Beautiful words of encouragement and support threw me a rope and rescued me from my steadily sinking ship, wrapping me up tightly in their warmth. One eye was enough for me to make out how much people cared, how deeply they believed in me. From literally a few minutes beforehand when I had feared I had nothing left, now I miraculously felt like one of the luckiest and richest people alive. Perspective shone its captivating glow over everything and saved the day again, as I remembered a fact I have always lived by: Just because something is more of a challenge, it never means you can't achieve it. The only limits anyone truly has in life are those which we set for ourselves.
Doubt punished me with one abrupt, moody pang of pain across my face. Reassurance soothed my soul, "Let it hurt. In the end, love can never lose. Pain is just a temporary feeling; love will last you a life-time."
