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.
Vision Doesn’t Define Me
There is a common misconception that our value is tied to what we can physically do and I have felt that belief creeping in as I prepare for this next step. My eyesight has been part of my identity for as long as I can remember, not because it defined me, but because its loss has shaped how I moved through the world. Retinitis Pigmentosa has taught me to adapt, plan and find ways to be self-reliant even when my vision has failed me. With this upcoming surgery, there is hope, yet also a reminder of how fragile and temporary our sense of control truly is. This anticipation has made me realise that my power has never been about clear vision or flawless function. Instead, it has always been rooted in presence, resilience and the choices I make during my weakest moments.
Whenever I reflect on who I am outside of my vision loss, I am reminded that my worth has always stemmed from my heart, mind and voice. My leadership, softness and strength do not exist because I can see well; they exist because I choose to live fully in every moment regardless of my limitations. The world often equates ability with strength, however, I have learnt that the greatest power comes from adaptability. True strength is found in surviving, thriving and continuing to create a life of meaning while navigating challenges others cannot see. Losing some of my sight has not made me less capable but, rather, it has sharpened me emotionally, intuitively and spiritually.
This surgery is undoubtedly a gift, yet it is not a magic wand. Whether it improves my sight or merely slows its progression, I already understand that my identity is not dependent on the outcome. My value as a woman and a person does not hinge on my physical abilities. For years, I have felt pressured to prove myself to demonstrate that I could lead, succeed and be desirable while carrying something others might perceive as a limitation. Through this journey, I have discovered that there is nothing left to prove. I have already built strength in places unseen by most.
Vision is only one aspect of who I am. It does not measure my intelligence, creativity or emotional depth. It neither dictates the respect I deserve nor determines how I love or lead. There is a quiet power in accepting this truth. Even if the world sometimes views me differently because of my condition, I do not need to internalise that gaze. My worth is not up for debate.
Perhaps that is one of the greatest lessons of living with RP. It teaches you to cultivate confidence in places no one else can reach. Surgery will not erase that part of me and neither will recovery. This chapter serves as a reminder that power is not tied to how perfectly I move through the world but to how bravely I exist within it. My vision does not define me. My choices do.
Mystic Anomanly 