Trying to Shine in a Dark World

Antique Archaeology, Nashville, Tennessee

I continue to struggle in my solitary, dark world. Some days I do well. Other days I sink. As an introvert, it takes a lot of bravery to venture out and do things like traveling and attending photography workshops and tours. And once I get to my destinations, I feel out of place and have difficulty connecting with others. There is not much common ground except for photography.

By the second day at the recent Nashville trip, I was wondering in my hotel room at night why in the world I was there. There were a few moments of grace later on that provided the answer, including special counsel by Ricky Skaggs, a man who truly walks in the light. Since I feel pretty much shunned in my everyday life now, I am surprised when somebody actually notices and acknowledges my presence.

Living in the shadows, I rarely see evidence that my light is shining. I am trying to get out, trying to connect with others and make new friends. I’ve given up on many who knew me as one part of a couple. In today’s society, it seems that half of a couple pretty much equals zero. Out of sight and out of mind.

I plan to have eye surgery later on this month. As I have mentioned before, my right eye has turned inward ever since I experienced all of the swelling difficulties last year. As a result, I see double. It is hard to negotiate everyday tasks on my own with wonky vision (like driving), and so I feel compelled to undergo the risk to medically fix the condition. That eye had muscle surgery several decades ago, and it can’t be reworked again. So the surgeon will be operating on my left eye to achieve binocular vision. Please keep me in your prayers. Pray that the procedure works!

Until a few days ago, it looked like I was going to have to hire a stranger from a home health care service to accompany me to and from the hospital. But a local friend volunteered to be with me, and she is taking off a day of work. I am so grateful for her profound kindness. The surgeon says that I should be fine at home by myself afterwards, but I will ask some neighbors to call and check in on me. The family across the street will be taking care of Angel for the day, and I’ll be reunited with her later on that evening. I should heal up in a couple of weeks and able to resume normal activities within a day or two.

A photographer needs her vision, doesn’t she? And, perhaps I can more safely try to find a place in the world where my light can shine again.