Finding Your Way Through the Fog
For the last three weeks I have been recovering from eye surgery – again. Back in the fall I had cataract surgery in both eyes, each done a week apart. Neither eye had cataracts, but I was apparently in danger of what they call “angle closure”; essentially, the angle that allows for fluid to circulate and drain within my eye as naturally occurs was closing. If that angle closes completely, it can cause complete blindness. By doing what is essentially cataract surgery – replacing the lens in my eye with an artificial lens that won’t grow (did you know that your eye’s lens grows as you age???), the risk of such closure disappears. Yay!!
While the surgery worked swimmingly in both eyes, the doctors discovered another issue in my left eye. Several issues, actually, which then required a vitrectomy – along with some retinal surgery to repair some sort of pulling and laser surgery for some bleeding. Basically, they did a lot of stuff to my left eye. I’ve been in recovery-mode ever since.
The first few days I just took completely off. Which was rather challenging; turns out I don’t like enforced periods of stillness. Chosen periods of stillness I’m fine with. I push back on things when forced; but I did what I had to do.
I was told that my eyesight would likely take 2-3 weeks to return to normal. It’s been 3 weeks today. It’s not back to normal. And I am frustrated.
For three weeks, I haven’t been able to drive (I mean, I’ve been told that I can drive legally because my right eye is fine, but that just doesn’t feel safe to me – at least not yet).
For three weeks, my left eye has had blurry vision at best. I don’t like living without clarity.
For three weeks, as I’ve tried to continue doing the work that needs to be done, I’ve been contending with depth perception challenges.
For three weeks, I’ve been forced to face the fact that I am NOT a very patient healer.
Why am I sharing this very personal journey with you? What could this possibly have to do with life and leadership beyond my own vision experience? Here’s what I’m learning:
Sometimes, it’s just really hard to see what’s coming. Not being able to see can make things difficult, for sure AND it doesn’t always make things impossible.
When I’m not sure what to do or more importantly how to do whatever it is I want to do, I just need to slow down. Slow down, take a breath and consider what actually needs to happen, and reprioritize as necessary.
When I think something is absolutely necessary, I may discover that it actually isn’t. Or if it is, I can enlist the help of someone or other and what’s necessary will get done.
It really is more than okay, it’s necessary – albeit somewhat uncomfortable or difficult – to just rest.
There is a difference between doing nothing, and resting. Actual rest requires me to put aside my mental scurrying as well as whatever physical task is on my to-do list.
If I’m not careful, I can let the fear of what MIGHT happen derail me in the present moment. I’ve had plenty of moments of wondering what I would do if my vision never comes back completely. While there is that possibility, this particular worrying is a classic example of borrowing trouble – which is not very helpful.
I guess, what I’m starting to see more clearly, even with the blurriness of one eye, is this: I need to be more deliberate about caring for ALL of me at all times. As full as my schedule is getting these days, caring for my whole self requires a whole-person focus. I need to do more than simply put aside my projects and close my office door for the day. I need to give my mind real space to rest – not have it ruminate on to-do lists even though I’m technically not “doing” what’s on the list. I need to give my spirit a rest – nourish my soul with music, and laughter, and silence.
Bottom-line: sometimes, things are hard to see. In those moments when the picture or the path seems fuzzy, you really do just need to stop. Forcing your way through the fog may be possible, but it probably isn’t necessary. Pause, breathe, reorient, proceed. This is the way through any sort of fog, whether internal, meteorological, or even imagined.