Note: This writing was pre-written to keep things active on my blog. I’m still recovering from my surgery. Thank you for being here while I rest.
Losing Sight, Not Autonomy
There is something deeply unsettling about anticipating the vulnerability of not being able to see, even for a short while. When I first learnt that this surgery would require a long healing period where my vision would be compromised, I felt panic rising in a way I couldn’t immediately control. I thought about all the things I wouldn’t be able to do, the independence I’d have to surrender and how every simple task would feel foreign and slow. For someone so accustomed to structure, and autonomy, the thought of being unable to rely on my own body struck me hard. Although I know logically that protecting and treating my weaker right eye is an act of reclaiming something, emotionally, it feels like yet another layer of loss before I can step into hope.
What I didn’t anticipate was how much this process would challenge my sense of identity. Much of my life has been defined by standing tall in strength, demonstrating leadership and guiding others whether in relationships, dynamics or even through the way I share my story here. Suddenly, I found myself imagining days spent sitting in the dark, needing help to walk around my own home and depending on my mum for things I’d never think twice about doing myself. It felt like a stripping away of the persona I’ve carefully built as though my power and authority were tied directly to my ability to see and move independently.
However, this time has reminded me that power has never been rooted in physical perfection or outward capability. True strength does not reside in how well I can function on my own; it lives in how I choose to face moments like this. My influence and my worth as a person are not tied to whether I can see clearly or move gracefully. They are tied to the courage it takes to heal, to trust others and to let myself be vulnerable without shame. Preparing to lose sight, even temporarily, is not a loss of power. Instead, it is a profound test of how deeply I understand what power truly means.
In many ways, this surgery feels like a teacher. It is showing me that leadership is not about perfection but about humility. Being a divine feminine does not mean I never tremble or need help; it means I can receive care without feeling diminished by it. I’ve been embracing the idea that my worth is not conditional, that even as I recover, stumble, rest and rely on others, I am still whole, powerful and deeply myself.
The upcoming darkness feels undeniably uncomfortable, yet it also serves as a reminder of resilience. I am not losing who I am. I am not losing my strength. This is simply a season that calls for a different kind of courage; one that is softer but no less powerful. In that sense, this journey is not taking something from me; rather, it is granting me the chance to witness my strength in a way I never have before.
Mystic Anomanly 