Whenever people ask me how I adjusted to becoming blind, I always say that the concept of adjustment is BS. In truth, when you go blind, you can never fully adjust; it’s a slow-burning process of acceptance until you finally learn to adapt. In this context, adjustment is not the same as adapting. Adjusting implies that I have some control, which I obviously did not have when my eyesight was taken from me. Adapting, on the other hand, means slowly learning to weave the new threads of my reality into my life: that is, I can no longer see.
When the reality of blindness first hit me, the initial shock was overwhelming. Even in cases like mine, where it took almost seven months before I completely lost my sight, nothing could have prepared me for that dreadful day when everything turned into a heavy fog, and I could no longer see shapes or colors.
It’s not just about the loss of vision; it’s also about the perceived loss of independence, identity, and connection to the world. Simple tasks like walking around the house, cooking, or using a phone suddenly felt impossible. For many, the greatest challenge isn’t just the practical limitations but the emotional struggle. Grief, frustration, and fear are common emotions that accompany the acceptance process.
These are just the internal challenges. We haven’t even touched on the external ones, such as discrimination, exclusion, societal barriers, and many more. But that’s a story for another time.
That said, when I reflect on my triumphs—victories, or whatever you want to call them—I can only think of one thing: the fact that I was able to fully accept my condition. For me, that is my biggest victory. More than any medal or recognition, I consider the fact that I have embraced and accepted my blindness—its perks, flaws, limitations, and everything in between.
Yes, the medals, the accolades, the achievements—they all feel good for a time. But the joy that accompanies them is fleeting. They elevate you to the highest highs, but if these are merely superficial forms of happiness, and if you don’t love and accept the person inside, the happiness feels hollow.
Full acceptance of myself, both the good and the bad, has made all my victories sweeter. I know deep down that more than any worldly love, attention, or praise, the most genuine kind of love and recognition comes from deep within. And that is the sweetest success, when I truly learned to love and accept my true self amidst all the imperfections.