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It’s All Around Me, #JusJoJan

It’s just past midnight as I write this and so obviously it’s dark out, right?

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I am headed to a routine eye appointment next week and nothing feels like it is routine. It feels much more like I am hurtling towards darkness.

There are all kinds of darkness.

People are scared of that, the dark, and “blindness” means darkness. Thus, most of the sighted world is more afraid of blindness and what that would mean, what that might look like, as the case may be, than being buried alive.

Okay, well I hear that was the case in one of those “what would you rather?” games. Since I am a definite clausterphobic, I thought that unbelievable. To be buried alive would be my worst fear.

I could never be a coal miner, for several reasons.

I am not afraid of the dark however. People are afraid of it because they are afraid of the unknown, all they cannot see, and afraid, in the practical sense, of falling down a flight of stairs or running into the wall.

There are ways we who are blind or mostly so learn to adapt to such practical concerns. I did run into the corner of a wall once, bleeding and leaving a scab in my eyebrow for weeks, but that doesn’t happen with any semblance of regularity because I try to take my time and move slowly. I don’t remember my hurry that day my eyebrow made such forceful contact with that wall.

I slide my feet, if a floor is messy. I know when there are stairs, in a familiar place, or I walk so slow because it isn’t familiar enough, unless I use my cane.

It isn’t always so easy to accept the need for a white cane or any kind of cane, for mobility or assistance because that cane is a visible symbol of perceived human weakness.

I need help and I keep learning to ask for it, to not be afraid of it, as some are afraid of the dark.

I am afraid too. I lived with some vision for my childhood, then lost a lot as I grew into an adult, and now here I am.

I don’t use my little remaining vision, as blurry as it is these days, but then it hits me how much I still do use it, as I contemplate the darkness that could be in my future.

The eye doctor might see something during his tests, but it’s more likely he will not. That is a good thing, but like with the invisible chronic pain I live with, sometimes there is nothing to see. This is both good and bad too. Nothing urgent showing up to attack with modern medicine.

I am drawn to the north, far up from the part of Canada I live in, where darkness means something different. I went to check out Yukon skies and June’s extended light. Strange to see vestiges of daylight at midnight.

I hope to return to Canada’s north in winter. I want to experience all that darkness, as a representation of that darkness that means blindness to so many.

I think it’s more like a fallen screen of dimness, fuzzy, foggy, twilight, which wouldn’t be all bad, but the fear still hovers there in my own head.

And so I count down the final days until my eye apt and, though I know it won’t probably be the giant thing I tend to build up in my own brain, I know these topics will continue to attract me, always giving me something more to say and to write about.

I didn’t even get into the symbolism of darkness and light in terms of contamination vs purity, good vs bad. It’s tied up in religion and in so many things, but so much negative is in the news every day and I think about all that far too much.

It’s this appointment that’s on my mind, front and centre.

I wish I could convince myself and other people that the darkness isn’t the worst thing in the world though, that we’ve made it that way in our own heads.

And so, the debate continues and the question goes on. I will continue to write about this. Stay tuned and look to the skies, but, if you can, watch where you’re going too.

I’m thrilled to be the provider of the Friday prompt word
for Linda’s #JusJoJan
to end off a long week, as January passes us by, on its own time.

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21 thoughts on “It’s All Around Me, #JusJoJan

  1. Thank you for today’s prompt. I enjoyed your post as well. Especially this part of your post: “I wish I could convince myself and other people that the darkness isn’t the worst thing in the world though, that we’ve made it that way in our own heads.”

  2. Thanks for the prompt and your own take on it. I’ve been told I have macular degeneration. Never to do they tell me any more, Like how I am supposed to deal with it or make it better. I admit I am a bit afraid as I am already having a hard time reading paper books. Kindle and Audible are my best friends. I’m pretty good at maneuvering around the house in the dark at night. My husband takes a flashlight with him. But I walk slow and put my hands out to make sure I’m where I should be. Do you know of resources that I could get in touch with?

    Anyway, I hope your headaches as small and the doctors give you good news or news you can work with. Thank you for sharing with all of us.

  3. Great post, Kerry. Thank you so much for the prompt, and for lending your perspective on what it means to live in darkness. I’d love to experience the Yukon in the winter … as long as I didn’t have to go out too often! Haha.
    I apologize for not getting around to visit sooner – I’ve been having a few issues today. I hope you’ve had a few extra visitors today!

  4. Hi Kerry thank you for a brilliant prompt. You really brought your point home. It is impossible for sighted people to understand what real darkness is like. I think it is the not ever being able to see again that frightens us so much, we hide behind the word darkness. As you, so rightly say it is the connotations that are put on darkness since the first peoples of fear and evil that we dread most.
    This is a great post thank you for your clear thoughts. I do hope your appointment goes well and that your future is not too dark, more as you say, a blurred twilight. Wishing you well 💜💜

  5. Pingback: Just Jot It January: Darkness – a1000mistakes

  6. Great post, you really brought it out what its like to be losing your sight. That is one of my biggest fears. One of the biggest reasons is because my livelihood depends so much on having good eyesight. If I couldn’t do this work, I would definitely not have had anywhere near as good a life as I’ve had so far. You seem to be taking it in stride. Much better than I would be! I hope your Dr has some good news for you.

  7. Pingback: Sigh – And The Search Continues, #JusJoJan | Her Headache

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