The day I found out I was pregnant with my daughter Dot, my mother was in the house with me. When the test turned positive I screamed for her, frozen about all the unknowns and risks a pregnancy would bring. She was outside the room with a good friend of ours when I was giving birth, through those five days and nights that went so very wrong. She was next to me in the operating room and while I hemorrhaged, my blood pressure crashed and doctors were panicking, she was the first person to hold my daughter. In that operating room, when the doctor handed Dot to her, she sang a lullaby while she held her so the first sound in Dot’s life would be joyous.

I can never undo the deep sorrow she feels for my medical situation and for Dot’s. The only thing I can do is try as hard as I can to honor her, her love and her sacrifice. And love her. And learn from her and the complexities of her character and spirit.

So today and every day, I am so deeply grateful for my mother’s presence and example in my life.

The Mighty is asking its readers the following: Write a thank you letter to someone you realize you don’t thank enough. If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio. Check out our Submit a Story page for more about our submission guidelines.

You want to be strong, so you are going to bury the growing pain you feel deep inside yourself. You are going to think if you push it down far enough, then it won’t affect you. It will be like the accident never happened. Even though it seems like the perfect plan, unfortunately, I have to tell you it is going to fail. 

By burying the accident, the trauma and the pain, you will unintentionally bury
the other feelings you possess — joy, hope, love, passion and enthusiasm. Even that positive attitude will slowly fade away. That anger you felt when you first heard the news your vision will never return will dominate your mind. Soon it will become the only emotion you will be able to express.

I don’t want to give away too much about what is to come, because there are mistakes
you are going to make. There are people you are going to hurt. You are going to make decisions you will regret, but all of these will bring you to where I am now. That is who I am: you, 11 years later. These choices and mistakes are things that need to happen in order for you to learn and grow. However, there are a few things I do want to tell you, just things to keep in mind and be aware of.

I know you don’t want to talk to Mom and Dad about the accident, and trust me, I understand. You don’t want to upset them. You don’t think they want to talk about it, but they do. They don’t know anything is wrong. They don’t know the pain you are experiencing, because on the outside you still look remarkably fine. I know this isn’t an easy request, but try to talk to them. They want to hear what you have to say. They want to know what you are feeling. They want to help. No one is ever going to know anything is wrong if you don’t ask for help.

But you need to ask for help.

In doing so, you will start a personal transformation that will leave you a better person
and a more complete person than you could ever imagine being.

Life isn’t going to be a breeze for you. The next decade is going to be hard. You are going to feel like no one else on this planet understands your suffering.

But you have to keep fighting. There are days you are going to feel weak, but you need to know you are strong. There are going to be days you feel worthless, but I promise you matter to so many people. There are going to be days when you feel hopeless, but even though it might seem far off in the distance, I promise you there is a silver lining and you will reach it because that’s what you do — you survive.

But the most important thing you need to know is that surviving is not enough. You
need to live. Surviving is merely existing. It gets you along but it doesn’t quench your determination or fuel your passion. That is what living does, and I promise you will learn to do that, too. Just give it some time.

You are going to be OK.

Sincerely,

You at 24

The Mighty is asking the following: Write a letter to yourself on the day of the diagnosis. If you’d like to participate, please send a blog post to [email protected] Please include a photo for the piece, a photo of yourself and 1-2 sentence bio. Check out our Submit a Story page for more about our submission guidelines.

Lead photo source: Thinkstock Images

I slowly started adding key chains on my cane. This adds a little bit of me to the cane, so it represents me, not just a disability. It became a form of self-expression. Each key chain has a story, like the red and green leather ornament with a maple leaf on it that matches my friend’s, a red sparkly heart that is from where my grandparents live that makes me happy and reminds me how much love I have to give and also holds my reward cards to various stores, and an owl that holds hand sanitizer because I thought it was cute.

Now my cane tells a story, so hopefully when someone looks at it, they see a person, not a disability. Hopefully it helps them recognize who I am apart from my blindness. I hope it reminds you that there is more than meets the eye. When you look at my cane from afar, it just looks like any other white cane, but when you take a closer look, a story will unfold itself to you in those key chains. Just like when you look at me from a distance you might just see “the blind girl,” as I have been called that many times, but when you look closer and get to know me, you see a sarcastic, witty, vivacious, perceptive girl who could be such a good friend to you if you give me a chance.

I have more to offer than my disability — more to offer than the person I would be if I went along with everyone’s expectations of what I can and can’t do. Next time you see a disabled person and want to generalize or demean them, remember my cane, and remember me. Always remember that there is more than meets the eye, if you take some time to look. I of all people know that well.