Recreant Ophthalmic Commentary
Since I was a kid and learned about people who were disabled in one way or another. I would sporadically induce myself into a panic. I did not know then that it did not happen to everyone. I feared for my parents, family, and friends. The whole, what if something happens? What if they are not able to see, or hear, or feel, or taste, or speak, etc… it would eventually turn back to me. What if something happened to me? These mini terror sessions wouldn’t last long though. My short attention span drew me out just as quickly as I was sinking. But they were somewhat frequent. Lasting until I began my double digit adventures. That is when things got more interesting.
You see, my curiosity took over my fear by then. Whenever I started thinking about the ‘what if something happens’ train of thought. I immediately announced that I would be deaf for the day (putting ear plugs in). Or blind (wearing one of my mother’s silk scarves over my eyes). Or on challenging days, only relying on my sense of smell (wearing winter gloves, blindfold, earplugs, and putting scotch tape over my mouth). Not to mention the times I would tie my hands behind my back, or tie my legs entirely together.
I desperately wanted to know what it felt like to not have certain senses or abilities. To see if I could get around my house, or any of my family member’s homes just from memory. Suffice to say, this little series of experimenting sort of, in a way, got to become a little side obsession.
Throughout my life I have lived in many places. And each new place was an adjustment to get used to. You could say that doing this strange experimental testing of my senses, was one way I would cope with such a dramatic environmental change. It actually carried over into my adulthood. I did stop tying my limbs though. Had my fair share of bone breaks, casts, crutches, and wheelchair moments. Which is totally another discussion. Anyway…
For every new place that I moved, I practiced this sensory deprivation in one form or another. I have done it so much and for so long, I actually have a set routine that is very detailed and hyper critical.
The first few days in a new place I blindfold myself when it is dark out. Turn off all the lights and start at the front door. I can’t take my blindfold off until I have successfully traversed every room wall to wall without getting lost. After a month, I do the same thing but with earplugs and a blindfold. If I last 6 months in one place, on go the winter ski gloves, etc.. I don’t tape my mouth shut though. I am fully capable of not talking for a week straight (I tested it in college). And yes, people thought I was an idiot for doing it.
So, am I actually afraid, like I was when I was a kid? Afraid that I might one day loose one of my senses or more? Yup! Absolutely terrified! But, at the same time, I am not afraid of the dark, not afraid of being deaf to the world around me, not afraid of any of these deprivation consequences I have subjected myself though over the years. The fear is that, I just don’t want to loose any of them.
Most people take for granted what we use to “live” every day. Having a roof over your head, food to eat, water to drink, a job to work. Yes, these are things that are important to survive in society. But they are not the most important. Our senses are what makes our realities, real.
I honestly don’t know how I would cope if something did ever happen. I just have that hope that if something did, if a loss came, I would be stubborn enough to make the best of what I still had. Much like I do now, with what I currently have. Life is far too much a wonderland not to explore what we currently posses.
By the way. If one lives with a family. Walking around your house blindfolded with squeakers attached to your shoe soles, kinda sets the stage for some pretty unusual conversations the next day. Also, having kids in the house makes playing blind-squeaker-tag a yearly blockbuster event. Everything breakable goes in the garage, all the furniture is quarantined to one main wall and covered with bed mattresses (replaced with beanbags and inflatable toys), and the floors are covered in gym mats.
By the end of the evening, all voices are horse from laughing so hard.
Acting a little unhinged isn’t that bad in moderation. It definitely makes things all the more fun.
