I Can’t See Myself Like My Wife Does

The mirror has always lied.

I’m blind.

I don’t say it to garner sympathy or platitudes. I don’t require or deserve any for something that is a product of my birth, though I appreciate the empathy if it’s there.

I say it because there are some interesting things I’ve learned over the years living with this condition I hope you can learn from too.

I wasn’t always this way. Until fifteen years ago, I had reasonably normal vision.

I have a genetic defect that causes my eyes to be shaped closer to pyramids, instead of the eggs normal folks have. Because of it, and a massive amount of scarring on my corneas, I actually see “too much” instead of “too little.”

By the time the information gets through my peepers into my brain, it can’t interpret the data. Everything is a washed out mess and basically useless.

No depth perception just adds to the fun-filled joyful times in strange places.

I think one advantage of my defect is I don’t have to look at myself much.

I’m an older guy — just hit 51 this year — and I have a lot of pain issues. That makes me hunch over a lot, unfortunately.

I’ve got a big bushy beard that seems to take on a life of its own most days. It gets a kick out of trying to make me eat it constantly. I never worry about taking a brush to my long hair, because it will not be under control, anyhow.

Why bother with it?

On top of all of that, the condition of my eyes makes them “pooch out” a lot. This gives me somewhat of a googly eyed appearance when I am not constantly squinting to try to get some resolution of vision.

Oh, and, because of that constant squint, the left side of my face is more muscular than the right, and the permanent line in my forehead from it is always apparent.

I have all these things against me, but my wife tells me every day how much she loves me. She supports me and is there through everything I have gone through.

She tells me she thinks I’m beautiful.

She’s never been a liar, so I have to believe her.

That’s lesson one.

You see, she knows everything about my past. She’s stuck around despite it all, because she loves me and wants the best for me. That’s radically different from anyone else I’ve ever had, that’s for sure.

But sometimes that past rears its ugly head at me and makes me talk about myself in very deplorable ways.

There’s nothing wrong with a little self-deprecation, mind you. I think it’s quite healthy to have a sense of humor about yourself.

What I’m referring to is my tendency to tell myself I suck. I hate this thing about me, or that detail drives me crazy. If I drop something, I’ll channel my father through my voice, telling how useless I am for wasting food.

It’s horrible, and I don’t enjoy doing it to myself.

I’ve also realized it hurts her, too. She doesn’t see that stuff in me. She believes I am something more and not a slave to my past.

It hurts her, because those are things she’s never seen in me, and I am, in effect, calling her a liar for thinking otherwise.

That’s a harsh truth I’ve had to come to terms with. I think it’s something many of us with pasts we’re trying to recover from need to recognize.

There are people in our lives who don’t see those horrible things we believe about ourselves. They don’t see us in the same mirror we’re looking at ourselves through.

The second lesson I’ve learned is how to see other people, myself.

I know! I just said I should do the same for myself. That’s the paradox of it all.

Because I can’t “see” people normally, I have to get to know “them.” I listen to their words, hearing the subtle things they say.

I catch their undertones, the currents of despair, self loathing, and cues of disappointment or loneliness.

I’ve had a mantra I’ve tried to live by throughout my life, and wish I could get others to keep for themselves, too. I started believing in it as a youth, and it’s helped me greatly through the years.

“If you don’t like me for who and what I am, screw you. There are seven billion other people in the world who just might.”

The hard thing I have been facing with that mantra of late is that it applies to my own self, too.

I can’t see myself in the mirror, but I can understand I am a person I could like, if I give myself the chance.

After all, my wife’s pretty into that guy she sees. Maybe, if I let her, she can introduce us more properly.

Other stories from me:

About me:

I am an author with over a dozen books and dozens of short stories published. I have experience with both traditional and self-publishing and love to discuss the pros and cons of both.

Why do I write? Because I am blind and live on woefully low disability payments each month. The government graced me with trying to live on about $700 per month, and I decided to start publishing because I also like to be able to eat.

If you like my work and feel inclined to support it, please consider buying me a Ko-Fi.

Thank you from the depths of my soul for being here. Keep striving to “be the best you that you can be” at this moment.

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