Whelp, been having some new trouble with them recently. Post Lasik, I've been a little photosensitive--enough that I always wore sunglasses outside, like we are all supposed to anyway--but something switched over in the last couple weeks where I started wearing them inside, too. They're angry. And I have decidedly felt unsafe driving, even at night once we factor in headlights from other cars. Work has been gracious enough to only make a few polite inquires about the sunglasses, but otherwise not insist I take them off. Thankfully, I haven't had anything client facing, so it's not been much of an issue.
Got in to see the optometrist, got a script ordered and an action plan, pharmacy was out of stock so I did have to wait another day for what I've been calling my eye-buprofen, but so far it's been a slow turn around. We're keeping things pretty dim in this household, I'm soaking my eyes in rewetting drops, and we're waiting.
All of the above happened because a particular switch was flipped in me. For Monday and Tuesday of last week, I was waffling pretty hard on whether to call the doctor. But then I tried to drive myself home for lunch on a sunny day. It was a profoundly unsafe ten minutes, but certainly solidified in my mind that this was not okay. It had crossed one of my specific thresholds, this one being "significantly intrusive to normal activity."
I was very relieved to have that switch flipped. The indecisive cycles are one of my least favorite places to be, but once the decision is made, it's action mode. I'm decisive. I can advocate for myself. I will have no problem calling the doctor or insurance or whomsoever is necessary to get pieces moving. I will be reasonable and ask how I can help someone help me, but I am persistent. I cut a great deal of the emotions and feelings out of the process. Can't think about it--just have to get it done.
It's my crisis mode. It's what got me through the mechanics of my major health concerns. It is not a sustainable form. I've brought this up before in other blogs, though the contrast with this particular experience is how aware I am of the different steps that are happening. I am working on intentionally checking in with my body, a skillset I did not have in previous events (in no small part because I was afraid of the answer). How I word my internal conversations has also shifted. Sure, I'm very annoyed with my eyes at the moment--the squinting gives me a headache, the skin around my eyes is irritated with all of the additional moisture from the drops, my eyelashes are crusty from the renaments ot previous drops, I'm mildly annoyed at the looks/comments from folks as I wear my sunglasses inside (real or imagined), and the specialty drops get expensive--but I'm ensuring that my verbiage is not blaming my eyes. I am frustrated at the situation but not my body this time. Even a more gentle "ah, let's rewet those peepers and keep them feeling good" instead of a huffy "ugh, I have to stop what I'm doing again to take care of this BS" is important to the collective framing of the experience. That compassion, given to myself as an olive branch of self-love, cuts away at the frustration. There is pain; I am not the pain. There is dryness and irritation, and it sucks that my eyes are feeling that--but that part of me is suffering right now, and I need to react with kindness.
A little more rest. A little more space. A little more time.
I am choosing to slow down because that's the care my body needs; I am not forced to stop. ...Okay, definitely still struggling with that particular affirmation. I do not actually feel that one yet. There's a very real fear of missing out that I still very much struggle with, because there are many, many things that I've missed out on and there is no small amount of grief there yet to process.
And in the meanwhile, I'll pretend that I'm a starlet trying to evade paparazzi in my $8 sunglasses from Kohl's.
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