Trying Something New (AKA Attempting Something Very Old Again)

 Tonight I did something that I haven't done in YEARS - playing a keyboard. Back in the day (when I walked 5 miles in the snow to and from school - uphill both ways) I was pretty good at keyboard. I took piano for about seven years as a child but never really played after my last lesson.

But I was good at complimenting the instuments in the worship teams I played with. I played filler strings, low bass, etc. I also played rhythm acoustic guitar or sometimes filler there too. Kind of like the keyboard, I had my niche and I didn't sway from it. I didn't play an electric guitar; I didn't play lead. 

I wasn't great at it, but I was pretty darn good at those things. Playing with worship teams was part of my identity. In fact, the email address I concocted with the help of a friend was based on my love of guitar: harpofworship. It was based on the fact that a harp is just a more elaborate stringed instrument than a guitar.

Years passed... The churches I went to either died or moved locations far from me. I got cynical when church after church added to my hurt. Becoming a part of a worship team became a part of my past. I gave my beloved white thin-bodied Alverez Yairi and my keyboard to my daughter and put my even more beloved amazing-sounding full-bodied Takamini in its case and set it aside.

When I met my husband and found out he had also been a part of worship teams in his past, it became a dream/goal to hopefully play together on a team. But over the years we have been together, different attempts have failed for various reasons (adding to the earlier mentioned hurt, by the way). 

But a little more than a month ago, we started going to a new church. The band was the style both of us had played with before. Best of all, they didn't have anyone playing percussion and my husband, a drummer who really liked to play percussion, was able to fill a need.

We talked to the worship leader about it and were a little bit surprised when he said this was a possibility. My husband told him he played percussion and I told him I played keyboard and guitar. I was nervous about saying that, since it had been so long, but I thought it would come back. Other times in my life I had put the instruments down and was able to pick them up and play like I hadn't stopped.

The worship leader told us that we could start practicing with the team and maybe in a few months, we might start playing. It was amazing when, to our surprise, after only practicing two weeks, he was asked to start playing during the service.

Meanwhile, I had shared with the worship leader what my real passion was - to sign during worship. All of my years of learning sign off and on had finally come together and signing worship songs is something I feel I might can be successful at.

I was shocked when the worship leader asked me what my passion was to do with the team. He used the word "passion." Just a few days before I had been telling that signing during worship was something I was passionate about. So I was incredibly, incredibly excited when I felt free to share that passion with him.

He didn't seem very enthusiastic at first but as I explained what I was thinking, he seemed to think it could be a good thing. He told me that he needed to talk to the pastor.

So the wait began...

The pastor was out of town the next week for his wedding anniversary. I was really encouraged by something a worship team member told me about signing. Then he was really busy with family obligations when he got home. I was resigned to wait.

This morning my wait was partially over. I texted the worship leader about something else and he mentioned that they had talked. By this point, I was really expecting a "yes." (You know what they say about expectations!)

It wasn't a yes. It wasn't a no. I was a "the jury is still out."

I cried. Yes, I know it wasn't a no, and honestly, a no at the moment doesn't mean a no forever. For one thing, it means that my waiting isn't over (and I hate waiting!)

But the biggest issue is that it may mean that once again my dreams about once again being part of a worship team might not happen.

So while I was crying, I tried to not catastrophize/spiral into that pit. I reminded myself that maybe if the signing thing didn't work out, maybe that would give me a chance to play keyboard and/or guitar again.

Well, I got to the church early tonight so I could practice before the main practice. I felt like a dinosaur. The keyboard is a lot more high-tech than I expected and even though I didn't dare mess with any settings, it was a little intimidating. 

Then I just couldn't seem to figure out what to play. About halfway through the time I had pre-practice, I realized what was wrong - the entire time I played, I used paper chords charts. I wrote like crazy over those things with notes about what I worked out.

I was using my phone for both the chord chart and for the music, which meant that any time I needed to go back to a certain part to practice it over and over, I had to close one screen and open another. I couldn't write on it. I was straining to even see the little print.

It was all I could do to not lose it completely and run crying out of the sanctuary. 

I'm trying to be optimistic about the whole thing - similar to what I said earlier, just because I couldn't get it tonight doesn't mean I never will. Just because when I picked up my guitar I realized I'm too overweight to play it doesn't mean that I'll never be able to (after all, I am losing weight now). Just because "the jury is still out" right now doesn't mean the jury might not come in with a favorable verdict. 

But right now it hurts. I want to just give up. On top of it, I'm watching my husband play with the team. I'm so happy for him - and so jealous, I almost can't stand it. I'm listening to songs about how good God is. At the moment, I know in my heart that He's good but I don't feel like He is. 

To top it off, I can't seem to sign. I keep getting "hand-tied" (a made-up word I use for the signed version of tongue-tied). I feel like I can't get anything right tonight. I just want to go home and cry myself to sleep - and hope that tomorrow is better, either in being able to do this after all or having a better attitude about it. 

No Longer Afraid... A Follow-up

As always, I can't ever believe it when I once again get back to this blog, months have passed. I need to get past the need to apologize, but it's a compulsion. 

So, I'm sorry it's been so long. And, like I always say, I'll try harder to post more consistently.

(But both you know and I know that this won't happen.😏)

If you aren't a regular reader of this blog, go back and look up my "No Longer Afraid" posts. There are four parts: part 1, part 2, part 3a and part 3b. You'll need that background to understand what I'm writing here.

Okay... so it's been over a year since I wrote those posts, sharing what happened in the hardest time of my life and admitting/confessing what I did to cause it all. 

I finished the first post of that series with these words: "I'm finally free." I'm still free, but I'm still human. The anxiety/fear still rears its ugly head on a regular basis. There are a lot of issues where I still have walls up. 

But... God... 

Even with all of my failings, mess-ups, and frankly, crap, He hasn't given up on me (even those times I've almost completely given up on myself.)

There are some subjects that I've wanted to write about but haven't. So I'm going to sum up some really amazing stuff that God did in me to get me here. It shouldn't be summed up - there are a lot of really cool details - but I need to get to what happened today, so I'll sum up anyway.

- At K-Love this year, God did a work on my heart. After years and years of having a massive wall and being completely against going to church, I left the weekend wanting to find a church and attending.

- So, I wanted to find a church. But how does one do that outside of recommendations of family or friends? That was a dead end. I use the mighty Google for any other search, so of course I thought about doing a web search. But churches are so personal and websites are so sterile... how would I find one that way?

- I thought I might as well try. What would it hurt? I don't even remember the search parameters I put in, but whatever I used brought up just under a million options. (It's the South, remember?) 

(I just realized that this is NOT summing up.)

- Anyway, I clicked on a website or two then saw one that intrigued me: A2 Church. I looked at their website, and it wasn't that different than others, but something drew me to it. (Yes, yes, I know it was God.) I was even more intrigued and told my husband about it. 

- We skimmed through a video of a recent service and I started getting excited about this possibility. 

- But what's really just short of a miracle is that, when the next Sunday came, even after a really busy weekend where typically I would have easily made an excuse to stay in bed... me, a huge social anxiety sufferer... me, someone who usually avoids the church like the plaque... me a very tired, old, physically and emotionally exhausted human... woke up excited to attend the 9:30 (yes, I said, 9:30!) service.

Fast forward a few weeks to this past Sunday.

For reasons I simply don't have time to go into now (I'm already way past summarizing), for approximately the last twenty years, I have avoided holding babies like the plague. In addition, I've also avoided children because of "the incident." (See the first "No Longer Afraid" post). 

Even though I have led the children's ministry in a couple of churches in younger days, I've kept that information a tight-lipped secret from anyone in the few churches I've attended the past couple of decades - and became even tighter-lipped after "the incident."

Something happened this past Sunday. I saw a tiny baby in the aisle across from where I was sitting - and I actually wanted to hold that adorable infant. I had the thought, "Maybe I should volunteer for the nursery."

But my past was hanging over my head. What if they did a background check and found out what happened? It's not like I hurt anyone, but I lost my teaching license anyway. I was still terrified that I would be found out. It wasn't worth it.

Sometime during the "year of hell" (again, see earlier post), my best friend - who was also a teacher -  told me that she found out that there was a way to get my license back. Because undiagnosed mental health issues were at least some of the precipitating factors of "the incident," I could appeal to the administration using recommendations from mental health professionals I was seeing.

Ironically, for the first time ever, after seeing therapists for decades, my therapist just last week dismissed me. She said I'm doing amazingly well and that I don't need that intensive therapy any more. 

Go back to the Sunday service and seeing the baby. I immediately decided to research what it would really take to get my license back so that this fear would be gone forever. I had a burning desire to do it right then. I couldn't have put down my phone if it was on fire.

I found out what I needed to know - and realized it could still be a fight. I simply don't have the mental and physical capacity or the time and resources to dedicate to this venture right now. I don't want to teach again so it's really a matter of pride more than anything. 

I then decided to give up. I realized it didn't matter. It's not a big deal.

It was at that point that I finally tuned into the message...

... only to have my new pastor look my way and say, "You don't have to hide anymore."

Oh... my... gosh!!! What? Did he really just say that? 

I started bawling and as soon as the service was over, I rushed to talk to him. I was still somewhat blubbering so there was no way I could tell him what happened. I asked if there was a time this week we could meet.

About 3ish hours ago, I shared all this with him. And he didn't judge me! 

It never ceases to amaze me about what God has done - and what He is still doing every day - even to someone as messed up as me.

Tips for Living in a Tiny Space (NOT a Tiny Home), Part 2 - The Tips

See "Tips for Living in a Tiny Space (NOT a Tiny Home), Part 1 - The Backstory" for the backstory. 

Now... drum roll please... Here are the actual tips.

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Organization is one of the keys.

I have gotten multiple sizes and shapes of containers through the years. I ramped that up with a lot of  Dollar Tree and Amazon shopping to find specific items needed to make the best use of every available space I have.

Having two incomes didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try to save money every way I could so I buy sodas in bulk when they are on sale. However, I needed places to keep them.

One day I realized I had a little bit of space (about a foot) to the left of the fridge where I kept TV trays. They were rarely used, so I found a shelf that could hold soda 12-packs. I used paper trays on two shelves to put paper plates and bowls and included a basket on the top for chips.

-        It’s imperative to lower expectations of having the perfect aesthetic.

      When there are only inches of areas where you can see the walls between the sheer amount of furniture you have AND you are living on a tight budget, items that typically would have been put in cabinets are in plain sight. The size and functionality of furniture is much more important than whether the pieces are the same style. There isn’t much room for décor. 

``    I have a few flat places where I put our favorite decorative items but mostly use shelves on walls above the shorter pieces of furniture for that. Shelves are some of my best friends.

-         When you have the choice, choose the same or similar colors for areas. The small milk crates on the top of the fridge are white, as is the fridge. The basket on top of the shelf I bought for 12-packs is gray to go with the silver of the shelf.

      The majority of the furniture in here is brown (though different types of woods and shades of brown) except for one end table that’s silver – but it’s not beside any of the wood furniture.

      To this end, contact paper is my friend. When a piece of furniture is a very different color from the surrounding items, sometimes contact paper works to make it blend. Paint would do the same job, but it’s permanent and I never know how all this will work if we move.

-        Think vertical.

This is a common piece of advice from organizational experts. Again, shelves are the hero here. I have shelves in our “pantry,” shelves under the bathroom sinks, shelves in the closets, and many stackable paper trays in the study.

If I can’t go wide, I go high.

Think outside of the box for unusual solutions to tiny living issues.

Like I said earlier, at first food that would typically be put in a pantry or cabinet was in dresser drawers. When that dresser was moved to another room after our wedding, we added one that’s a stackable cabinet (used typically for sweaters) over three large drawers.  

Currently, six drawers of the old nine-drawer “pantry” (dresser) include kitchen supplies, silverware, Ziploc bags, etc. Three are for meds, miscellaneous items like nail polish, and basic office supplies I use a lot when I’m working there.

After we got everything else set up, I realized we needed a coffee table, but couldn’t find one that would fit in the tiny open area in the kitchen/den. 

I finally decided on a bedside table – the kind from hospitals (though this one is nicer). It has a height adjustment, an advantage of converting it into a standing desk. It’s just the right size and, as a bonus, moves around easily so we can use it multiple ways.

I’m the kind of person who wears clothes more than once if they aren’t dirty. It bothered me that I had nowhere to keep those clothes since I wouldn’t put them with the truly clean ones.

Earlier I forgot to mention command hooks are also my friends. I got four clear hooks and put them on my bathroom wall. Now I'm able to keep those clothes off the floor and wear them again.

Though I care for the environment, we use paper plates. Life is hard enough without taking all of our dishes into the kitchen to wash – and then having to either let them dry on the countertop (which also doesn’t have much space) or sorting when using the dishwasher.

However, I can’t stand using plastic cutlery. I had silverware from my old home but needed a solution for cleaning the forks, spoons, and knives.

I decided to use the bathroom sink. It took a lot of searching to find a dishpan that would fit and small drying rack. But eventually, I found what I needed.

There was still the problem of having dried food become one with the silverware before I had time to wash it. (Freelancing = long hours.) 

I bought a few large plastic cups. I fill one half-way with water and add the silverware to soak until I have time to give them a bath.

It’s not the best solution – the cutlery water gets incredibly gross and washing anything in a bathroom sink has issues - but it works.

Over-the-door hooks and shoe holders are two more of my friends.

Some doors have multiple hooks; some have just one. But there isn't a door in my living space that doesn't have at least one hook. Purses, backpacks, laptop bags, and jackets or coats all live on these hooks.

Clear shoe holders on the backs of two doors hold charging cables, short extension cords, our most used tools, and similar items. It's a great way to organize a lot of small items where they can be seen easily. 

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Living in a tiny space isn’t what I would consider enjoyable. It’s barely manageable at times. Number one… I wouldn’t trade having this time with my parents for anything, especially since my dad passed away about six months ago. Number two… I’ve gotten to live out my dream career.

Number three… though it’s been very challenging at times, secretly I love the challenge. It’s can be fun to work hard to find a solution to a problem that no-one else has. It’s completely up to me to figure it out.

And when, months or years later, I notice that one of my solutions is still working, it gives me so much satisfaction. Sometimes when I think about the day I’ll need to move, I hope I’ll still recognize the lessons living this way taught me and continue to appreciate the stigma of living in a tiny space.

Tips for Living in a Tiny Space (NOT a Tiny Home), Part 1 - The Backstory

First - the backstory. 

Even though tiny homes are gaining popularity, the current housing trend seems to be “bigger is better.” Though I could go on to talk about that idea – and how it feeds materialism due to having to fill up a big house – I’m going on a more personal route.

Why is this post on a blog called “Spotlight on Stigma,” you might ask. Well… I’ll tell you.

It’s a stigma because living in a tiny space, not the trendy “tiny home,” is looked down upon. There are two big differences between the two.  A person must be very deliberate in choosing a tiny home as a housing option. Not being able to afford something large goes with being poor and unsuccessful.

Plus, a tiny home is made to have the maximum storage possible. Most have a full-service kitchen, even though it's small, as well as every other basic amenity that typical homes include.

I live in a tiny space. About 8 ½ years ago I lost my job (which you can read about in my other posts). One day my mom and I talked about my next step and she said that she and my dad were thinking about moving closer to my brothers, their doctors, and their church.

Another factor in this idea was that she and my dad were having more and more health issues, and my dad was also showing signs of dementia. She proposed they buy something big enough to include my daughter and me. She added that by doing this, I could live out my dream of becoming a full-time professional photographer.

I actually laughed. When I ended up moving from my hometown, I never wanted to come back. I loved where I lived at the time – a ranch-type house with three bedrooms, one double-sized, two big living areas, two bathrooms, a small study, laundry room, and kitchen. (I still miss it to this day).

It wasn’t tiny, but it definitely wasn’t large. It wasn’t crowded but had just enough space for our needs.

About her second point, becoming a full-time photographer was a dream I gave up years ago. I didn’t consider it a viable possibility.

But the longer I prayed about it, the more I knew it was the best option. As much as I loved where I lived and my home there – and, frankly, I was concerned about living with my parents after living on my own for over 25 years - I knew it was what I needed to do.

Finally, I called my mom and said yes.

I included the background story to show that even though it was technically a choice, it wasn’t one I would have made in different circumstances.

Anyway, though I’m overall a pessimistic person, I do like a challenge and try to make the most of what I have. When we moved, I had two rooms and a bathroom. My daughter had her own room and bathroom upstairs.

One of my rooms was my bedroom, obviously. It had a small closet but thankfully, I’m one of those people with only a basic wardrobe. As to the other room, it was a combination office and den.

Over time, I realized that, due to my eating disorder, having to share a kitchen with my parents wasn’t working. I knew I needed a space to put healthy food that I liked.

I came up with the idea to buy a long dresser for a pantry. I could use the top as a counter to prepare food as well as hold a toaster oven and a mini fridge. As the loveseat (for the den aspect) wasn’t used much, we moved it out to make room for the modified, basic “kitchen.”

It wasn’t the perfect solution, but it helped a lot.

I kept this or a similar configuration for about four more years until my boyfriend proposed. By this time, living with my parents had more to do with them needing help than my financial situation. I could have moved out after we married because I had his salary to combine with what I made as a freelancer.

It took a little while for me to finally ask him a scary question – where do you want to live? He responded that he thought he would move in with me and my parents. My daughter had moved out by this time, so we had the option of making it a booming THREE-room living space!

But, of course, we had a LOT more items to put in that space. We moved the “kitchen” (which now included an apartment-sized fridge instead of a mini fridge) in my former bedroom and made it a den/kitchen combo.

My old study became our study – with two really large desks and work areas and storage for our camera equipment. My daughter’s bedroom upstairs became our bedroom.

It's cramped, but it works, though when my husband lost his 9-5 job and joined me in the freelance business, it became more claustrophobic at times.

...Because you made it this far, you're ready to read the actual tips. Go to my blog "Tips for Living in a Tiny Space (NOT a Tiny Home), Part 2 - The Tips to find out ways I make living in this situation feasible.

Chronic Pain Interferes with Life AGAIN

I'm sitting in the media's "deadline" room (for the writers/reporters - there's a separate photographers' room) for the Talladega Superspeedway in central Alabama. Most would think that's amazing to be able to do - and I agree. But I'm still disappointed.

You see, I'm supposed to be out beside the track taking photos of this NASCAR Cup race. 

I'm both a writer/reporter and photographer. My plan for this weekend was to be a writer/reporter (being involved in the press conferences and the "bullpen" - where a person can ask a specific driver questions in small groups) on Friday and Saturday and being a photographer today.

I've tried to take it easy as much as possible for the weekend, especially this morning. I got out and did one thing that I needed to do as a reporter but, other than that, I've mostly sat and worked on my laptop.

Though I knew my back was hurting, when it came time for the cars to line up for the race, I thought I could push through the pain to take at least some photos. I walked out there - each and every step full of pain - only to have to turn around and come back.

I've shot here twice before. I fully understand that to get the kinds of photos I want, I have to move around. 

Photography isn't easy at a place like this, a sport like this. There are a lot of people and a lot of activity going on. There is absolutely nowhere to sit down and rest. The best angles may mean bending, twisting and/or holding one of my heavy cameras up, ready to press the shutter release, until there's something worthy of shooting. 

During those two events last year, I got some photos I consider high quality. I remember how difficult they were to get and I know if I go out in my present condition it would be hard, if not impossible, to get anything better - or even as good.

On the other hand, it's absolutely gorgeous weather. A week ago the forecast was for it to be about a 95% chance of rain all day. Even up until yesterday, the forecast called for a big chance of rain during the race. However, late morning/early afternoon it started clearing up.

By the time those famous words, "Drivers, start... your... engines!" were amplified to the humongous crowd, there were gorgeous blue skies.

But even better, it's cool outside. At the moment, almost exactly halfway through the race, it's 62 degrees. As I'm extremely heat intolerant, this is absolutely the perfect weather for me. I hate, hate, hate that I'm sitting inside for an event I love to shoot during this wonderful weather.

Oh - and the fact that it's sunny means that it's much easier to take great photos. The sun glistening off the cars and being able to use higher shutter speeds are just what you want when you are shooting this kind of sport.

I'm trying to be thankful. It's been a great weekend. This time last year, I finally became brave enough to ask a question during a regular press conference. I had no idea what a bullpen was - and even though I did ask questions of a few drivers, it was probably easy to tell it was my first time.

This year I participated in several press conferences, even asking questions of those who had nothing to do with my article's subject matter. I was much more confident during the bullpen - and wasn't frantic to try to get a lot of comments. I knew what I needed, got that, and didn't worry about more.

Yesterday my back wasn't hurting like it is today and I was able to follow the subject of my article around the garage to get a POV of what he does. I never made it to the garage either time I was here before.

Probably the coolest thing about the weekend was how the superspeedway's President recognized Travis and me and talked to us several times throughout the weekend - even sharing a running joke between us. 

This isn't something I ever thought I would do - or something I never even imagined that I would WANT to do. Now I love it. 

So... I recognize and am thankful that I'm in the press room. I know it's both great fun and great experience - for what I'm not sure, but one thing I've learned the past few years is that God rarely provides opportunities that He doesn't use later.

And... ironically... it's hurting pretty badly to sit right now. Maybe walking (and trying to shoot something) would be worth a try!

(Update 30ish minutes later: I did it! I went out for about 10 laps, about 200 photos. It hurt the whole time and my legs were shaking most of it. But I did it. I was thankful before, but now I'm really, really thankful.)

Success When You Feel Like a Failure

Maybe it's because I have perfectionist tendencies. Maybe it's because I'm a people-pleaser at heart. Maybe it's because nothing but being #1 is good enough.

But I feel like a failure a lot of the time.

This is contrary to what others see about me. I am actually pretty accomplished. Not counting this blog (which, to date, has over 150 posts), I have had over 250 distinct articles published from 1-4 times each. I have literally had close to or more than 1,000 photos published. My stories are published in three books. 

I have interviewed and/or taken photos of some big names such as Darcy Lynn, America's Got Talent winner; Ginger Duggar Vuolo of 19 Kids and Counting; Michael Jr, headlining comedian; Francine Rivers, best-selling author; and Jon Erwin, producer/director of American Underdog as well as many other high-grossing movies. I've covered major events like the K-Love Fan Awards weekend; major and minor sports leagues; IndyCar and NASCAR; and the 2019 Southern Baptist National Convention. 

Even with all these - as well as many other successes - in my 55-year life, I STILL feel like a failure the majority of the time.

However... one thing I'm trying really hard to learn is that the biggest successes can come out of the little things, especially if you have mental and/or physical issues that you have to overcome.

Here are some examples:

- There is a monthly meeting I try to attend, basically a networking and sharing event for women of purpose. It's on the second floor of an office building - and stairs are the only way to access the room where it's held. 

I have a phobia about stairs. I have a worse phobia about open stairs. Add to that, the stairs are outdoors, where rain or dew makes them even scarier.

The first time I went to this meeting, it took EVERYTHING in me to get up those stairs. I literally shook for more than half of the meeting. But I made it. 

THAT'S a success.

(After attending several times, it's getting easier, but it's still rough every time.)

- Because of having Bipolar Disorder, Type 2, there are days that I literally have a hard time not talking (it's a weird feeling to not be able to stop even when you want to). There are other days that I have a hard time talking at all.

In the past, I have tried to hide this struggle. However, recently in events such as the one I just mentioned, when I introduce myself I try to be transparent about this issue. 

In a place where it feels like everyone else attending has everything together except for me, sharing something that can be considered a major defect is difficult, to say the least.

But the first time I did it, so many came up to me afterward and congratulated me on being vulnerable and authentic.

That's ANOTHER success.

- I am very overweight. It's something I've tried to fix my entire life and finally, I decided it couldn't be changed for whatever reason, and I've been trying to come to peace with it.

However, I know that I still need to eat to be healthier, even if I never lose a pound. Like most people, especially women (stereotypical, I know, but I feel it's still true), I sometimes crave chocolate. And as a food addict, when I crave something, it's especially hard to avoid giving in.

One of my favorite ways to indulge is a Smoky Mountain Fudge milkshake from Jack's (a fast food chain in the South). In fact, in the past, the majority of times I have passed a Jack's, I have to fight with myself to not run through the drive-through.

However, lately when I've been really, really craving one of those wonderful milkshakes, I would just about be drooling by the time I got to my local Jack's - only to find out there was a long line in the drive-through. Instead of getting in line, I would decide that it wasn't worth it.

Now, that might be a normal response for a neurotypical, one who doesn't deal with food addiction, but for me, that was not what I would typically do. 

The scenario with the long line happened the next few times I wanted one.

Now, I drive past Jack's either without thinking about the milkshake at all or I can dismiss the thought without the fight.

This is  DEFINITELY a success.

In every one of these scenarios, I felt like a total failure the first time (or multiple times) I tried to change. But these types of successes, over time, will actually do more to impact my life for the good than the big ones - the awards, the photos and articles being published, and other accolades. 

Let's celebrate all successes, even the ones that may seem insignificant at the time.

Floaters (No, Not the Up-In-the-Air Kind)

If you read this blog at all, you know that I'm a photographer and a writer. My eyes are really important to me. Visual acuity is important to me. Not seeing things that aren't there is also important to me.

Rewind back to Christmas Eve 2022. I wasn't feeling well (it turns out I had the flu and was in the hotel room all day instead of hanging out with my husband's family for Christmas), but I just thought I was tired at the time.

I started seeing flashes of light in my peripheral vision of my left eye. I sometimes have visual migraines so I thought it had to do with that, even though this wasn't what happens to me typically. I took some ibuprofen and tried to rest - and not worry. After a while, when my anxiety started ramping up about what was going on, I did some online research (after all, it was Christmas Eve - no doctors) to make sure it wasn't something I had to deal with immediately.

Thankfully, it wasn't. 

Then I noticed the floaters. I didn't think too much about them at first. I've had floaters before. Never this many or this big, but it's not a new thing.

I really thought they would go away... that they would be reabsorbed (do they do that?) or my brain would learn to ignore them. More research found that usually in six months they would either go away or be bearable to deal with. 

My online searches also revealed a few OTC therapies I could try with no risk. When there was no change after a couple of months, I chose a supplement - L-Theanine - to try. It didn't help. I was already taking some other OTC supplements for my eye health since my cataract surgery so I stopped there.

After six months, I went to my eye doctor and asked if there was anything that could be done. He said that eventually, I should adjust. He may have mentioned laser therapy but if he did, he also discouraged me from going that route. I simply remember leaving the office dejected, with no hope.

Because living with it was the only option I seemed to have, I did so. It got in the way of my living as a photographer, but what could I do? I had to make do. Besides, with only one eye affected, I kept in mind that it could have been worse.

Fast-forward to January 2024. It got worse. The same thing happened in my right eye. At least this time it wasn't accompanied by the fear of earlier... I knew the signs that showed I needed to go to the doctor/ER and I wasn't "seeing" any of them.

More floaters followed. It became harder and harder to ignore them at this point. It affected editing photos and writing more than anything because when I work, I stare at two extra-large monitors. The floaters are worse when you dart your eyes from side to side, which I do constantly when I'm on the computer.

However, though work is affected the most overall, what is really unnerving is the peripheral vision issues. So many times, I think someone has come up beside me, only to find it's a floater. When driving, I have to be extra careful to make sure the lane is clear (thankfully, I have lane assist with my car!) because a floater can look like a vehicle coming up.

This issue is the biggest problem when I'm doing a photography shoot. I use my peripheral vision a lot while my face is plastered against the viewfinder. Not knowing whether something is real or not in your outer vision gets to you after a while - and makes concentrating on the photos needed harder than usual.

Speaking of "getting to you," there's one more reason that I am having a hard time with these little black specks - my mental health. I don't have a diagnosis of OCD but I definitely have some obsessions and compulsions. These and my other mental health issues make it really difficult to ignore the floaters and they can increase my anxiety (which is regularly high already). 

I'm sharing all this because, on a fluke, my mom had an optical issue where she needed a retinal specialist. I had no idea this kind of doctor existed! I took her to the doctor and realized that THEY might be able to help me.

Asking the tech, she told me that not only did they deal with floaters, the doctor we were seeing had a special interest in floaters. He has developed a website - www.floaterstories.com - that explains what's going on, its history, the impact of floaters on everyday life, and, obviously, stories of those who have experienced them.

I knew I had at least a chance of getting rid of them. This morning I went to this specialist. After several tests to measure my acuity and the amount of floaters I have, I waited nervously for the verdict.

He told me what I had feared - that he had seen much worse. However, he went on to say that a condition like this doesn't have a clinical guideline to show whether or not a person should have surgery done. It depends on the person and how much the floaters negatively impact his/her life. 

So, I was the one who got to choose. (HUGE sigh of relief!)

Needless to say (but I'm saying it anyway), I'm choosing surgery. There is a risk with any surgery, but I feel that the possibility of being free of these annoying distractions will be worth it.

I'll try to remember to do an update after it's over. Until then, I'll just be waiting and praying that it goes well - and trying not to let my anxiety rule.

(Note... I updated this story to include the journey through having floaters' surgery on both eyes. See post on July 15, 2024 to read the full account.)