I had a powerful experience this past 10 days. One of those that catches you off guard and knocks you back off your feet a little. Something I thought I was so good at and had control over...I learned I didn't. You see...about 10 days ago I had to learn how to see all over again.
Now don't panic - I didn't lose my vision...completely. In fact, nothing nearly so dramatic. The fact is, I got a new prescription in my glasses. A bit stronger lens for the left eye, the same for the right, and a lens to help me with my constant taking on and taking off of the glasses in order to change between my distance vision and my reading vision.
I didn't need bifocals, but a transition lens, with my prescription in the top half of the lens and plain glass in the bottom. No big deal (so I thought)! My optician warned me that "some people" say they take a while to get used to...but I was thrilled to have a plan that would keep me from moving my glasses off my face, unto the top of my head, around my neck, and eventually...to loosing them!
Needless to say, ten days later, I am finally adjusting to them (and I think that is only because I don't wear them most of the day!). In the process, I have learned several things about myself, for this experience has not only been physiological, but metaphorical as well.
Lesson #1: I look down. A lot.
I really never realized it before, but apparently I can't walk down steps unless I can see my feet. I suppose I became vaguely aware that this was the case last January, when I went to take the X-mas tree for recycling. I was preparing to carry the tree down our 4 flights of stairs-all 5' wide, 5' tall, dried-out balsam - when I froze on the top step. I wasn't sure where to put my foot as I stepped down. I looked down, only to get a face full of tree. I held on to the rail and told myself that I knew exactly where the steps where and that I didn't need to see them to walk. I got down two steps and my anxiety was steadily increasing. My brain was clearly telling me that it must see the step before it would let my legs continue. Eventually I adjusted the tree onto my shoulder and created a field of vision so I could see my feet. Then I was ok.
With my new glasses, I could see the steps but they were blurry when I looked down, because they were too close for the distance lens to put them into focus and too far away for the clear glass part of the lens to focus my vision. I found myself squinting, moving my head, my eyes, and trying not to look at my feet, which made my eyes and my head hurt. And this, in turn, only led to my not being able to get my brain to move my legs!
Now, I've lived in this 4-story walk-up for nine years. I know the steps...which ones creak more than the others, which ones are warped and no longer level (the house, is, after all, over 100 years old)... even the step with the toe kick that is no longer level and likes to trip you if you race down the stairs too quickly.
So why must I see my feet to go down stairs? Not upstairs...not walking on the sidewalk, or the treadmill, or running after a niece or nephew. Just down stairs. Why? Is it that walking downstairs indicates leaving...walking away? Is it that one's balance is shifted forward and feels more vulnerable? Going down the stairs is so much easier than going up the stairs - physically speaking. I can go a whole lot quicker. That is, as long as I can see my feet!
But walking down stairs, without being able to see clearly where each foot is going makes me anxious. It can be immobilizing. I feel uncertain, fearful. I found that the anxiety and fearfulness permeated my life this past week. I've felt depressed and scared to leave the house a couple of days now. Being unsure of where I am going and what I am doing with my life has worried and saddened me. Not being able to see the way clearly has felt frustrating and scary. Not being able to move as quickly down the stairs (or in life) as I normally do has left me feeling unnerved and uncertain.
Going downstairs is usually the easiest, quickest part of any journey for me. Moving away from something has meant entering something new or eventually returning to something I know. But this (nearly) fortnight has been a challenge. I have, slowly, cautiously, been teaching myself how to see while I go down stairs: as I leave the familiar and enter out into the world. I have worked on looking forward, using intuition and trust so as to not need to look at my feet...worked on not staying planted to one spot out of fear of not being able to see my feet, but relying on my peripheral vision to guide me.
The parallel process? The deeper I enter into this leave from work, the more time I spend alone, without constant distraction...the harder it is. For me, it is very much like trying to go down stairs without being able to see my feet. It is the unknowing, despite being in a familiar milieu. It is forcing myself to look up, to where I can see clearly, even though it is contra-indicated. I feel more anxious and disconnected. I can't see my feet as clearly...where I am stepping is feeling unknown. Leaving and walking away from the comfort of what is familiar.... The easy part of life - walking downstairs - has gotten harder.
But...ten days later, I am learning to be patient with myself. To give myself time. And to not look down so much, but rather, to look forward. Fighting the anxiety to just stay planted and challenging myself to go down the stairs, go forward in life, looking ahead, regardless of how clearly I can see.
And that's just Lesson #1! Wait until you hear Lesson #2!
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