Let’s talk about my vision impairment related anxieties

I’ve started and restarted writing this blog post countless times, the backspace key being brought into play each time hesitancy struck to reclaim my thoughts from the page. It’s ironic, really, that I’m feeling a little anxious about addressing my topic of choice – my vision impairment related anxieties. 

I’ve previously written at length on here about the relationship between my vision impairment and mental health whilst also delving into the nitty gritty details of feelings such as loneliness, grief, guilt and, most recently, belonging. But as I reflected on all the emotions I have shared, I subsequently started to think about the things I haven’t.

From the get-go, my blog’s purpose has been to provide some reassurance to fellow vision impaired people whilst simultaneously hoping to tackle stereotypes and break down barriers. I’ve surprised myself in how open and honest I’ve been as I pursue this mission and whilst my ultimate goal has always been to have an overarching message of positivity in my writing, there have been topics that have challenged this aim, today’s post being one of them.

It’s not a negative talking point by any means, just a very realistic one because certain thoughts, feelings or concerns are very much a part of the whole vision impairment experience and I’d be doing myself a disservice if I were to gloss over them on here.

Whilst my ethos when it comes to approaching life as a disabled person has always been to focus on the positives, I do have to make allowances for the different feelings that come hand-in-hand with it because there is a part in my mind where certain thoughts or anxieties reside. They do things differently there, it’s a place that feels a little foreign at times and I have found myself having to learn the language of these thoughts in order to truly understand them and their meaning in any given situation.

This is a conversation I’ve had with many other vision impaired people over the years so I know it’s not uncommon to feel slightly conscious of some aspects of the experience.

With that in mind, I want to talk through some of my vision impairment related anxieties to hopefully provide reassurance to fellow VI people that they’re not alone in what they might be feeling. For a long time I convinced myself that these feelings were a smudge on the carefully drawn canvas of positivity that I had sketched for myself but they do, in fact, complete the picture and are a very valid part of life as a vision impaired person.

I’d also like to think this might serve as a little insight to non-disabled people about what feelings certain situations or environments might evoke. 

It’s a nerve-wracking post to pen but I think there’s a certain power in relatability so here’s hoping that someone, somewhere can take something away from what I’m about to share.

My vision impairment related anxieties

Seeming rude or impolite

There are certain elements of human etiquette that desert me as a vision impaired person. I’m talking not being able to recognise or spot people in a room or when walking by, not realising a question is directed at me in a conversation, not being able to return a wave or leaving people hanging when they extend their hand for a shake.

My initial concern about this manifested back when I was at school as I unknowingly passed my friends at the time without recognition. Despite expressing the fact that I couldn’t see them, I was never certain that my explanation was understood and from then on, I grew to be very conscious of how I would be perceived in those kinds of situations.

The negative attitudes and lack of understanding surrounding Vision impairment meant that my justification as to why I missed certain social cues often got lost in translation of my reality vs society’s rigid expectations. Due to this lack of understanding amongst my peers, my words were reduced to excuses rather than facts. 

A decade on, my anxieties around perception have eased as I’ve grown to be more secure in my circumstances but the worry of seeming rude or impolite does creep in from time-to-time.

However, as an adult, I do feel a lot more confident in asking for clarity if I don’t know whether a question is for me and I’m also not afraid to shrug or laugh things off if some awkwardness strikes. 

Recognising people

In the same vein, recognising people can be a tricky thing to navigate at times.

I’ve become quite the pro at recognising the voices of people I know well but interacting with those who aren’t as familiar to me can be a guessing game, leaving me searching for clues as to who they might be in their words.

A certain triumph exists when that clarity finally strikes and the scattered pieces of the ‘Who is this?’ puzzle fall into place but it’s a strange feeling to be left guessing and, in a way, it links back to the first point about seeming impolite if I don’t recognise someone. 

Some people who know about my impairment have adopted the habit of letting me know who they are as they start to chat with me which is always appreciated and something I encourage people to do when interacting with vision impaired people. Gestures like this can go a long way in terms of easing the uncertainty some VI people might have.

Using my white cane

I’m sure this one will come as no surprise to any of my long-time readers. It’s an insecurity that has been mostly reserved for the early chapters of my vision impairment story but its prominence was once very difficult to ignore.

There are plenty of posts and points referencing my love/hate relationship with the white cane here on my blog so I won’t rehash the minutiae of my feelings, but it remains a crucial part of my experience and a battle I know so many other vision impaired people have contended with too. 

I fought hard against the idea of introducing the cane into my life in my early teens, resistance which was once again attributed to the misconceptions and preconceived ideas that are out there.

These negative attitudes manipulated me into the belief that being disabled was something I needed to hide and, as someone who longed to ‘fit in’ at the time, I grew very anxious of using a cane for the simple reason that I believed it would become a symbol of my impairment. This meant that I chose invisibility over independence for a long while.

But I’m glad to say that things have changed meaning that this is no longer an active anxiety. In fact, I feel more anxious if I don’t have my cane to hand nowadays because independence is impossible without it. It’s safe to say that 14-year-old Elin would be in utter disbelief if she read those words.

Taking photos

I love capturing memories with my family and friends but I do often find myself feeling a little self-conscious in the moment a camera is whipped out or ‘Let’s take a selfie!’ requests are issued.

If there is a person behind the camera, I usually ask them to speak so I can train my gaze in that general direction and I always ask which way I need to look before a shot is taken. However, even a firm instruction of ‘Look straight ahead’ hasn’t always done the trick, resulting in snaps of my friends all smiling at the camera whilst I resemble a distracted dog who’s eye has been caught by an unknown object in the distance. If you were around these parts at the time I used to document my #BlindGirlProblems, this would be the kind of situation that would be labelled as one.

Perhaps this slight self-consciousness I feel when taking photos speaks to the internalised ableism I wrote about recently, perhaps it sits in the side of my mind that fears being perceived as ‘different’ and that being captured on camera. But the worry is also fluid, it ebbs and flows, as do all insecurities, loud at times whilst remaining a whisper on other occasions.

When I think back to my early/mid teens and remember how anxious I was to make plans as a result of noticing more deterioration, it makes me grateful now that I’m in those photos, making memories and enjoying the moment, no matter which way I’m looking. 

Busy / loud situations

I’m very dependent on my hearing to identify what might be happening around me so I can feel very overwhelmed when loud noises, music or chatter obscures the voices of those I’m talking to or other sounds I’m trying to tune in to.

It could be a busy town or city centre, a pub or even when wind picks up on a walk which makes it difficult to hear any traffic. Linking back to an earlier point, loud environments reduces my ability to recognise voices which can again stir some unease. 

This isn’t to say that you’ll never find me in these situations, concerts are some of the loudest places to be and yet you won’t see me stopping attending those, but it is recognition on my part as to what triggers my anxiety and how I can remedy it in whatever circumstance I’m in. 

Sometimes it’s as simple as a friend looping their arm through mine when we’re in a busy place so I feel safer knowing that someone I trust is still by my side, but I’ve also grown to realise how important it is that I communicate my anxieties if I’m feeling on edge or particularly overwhelmed. I’m one of those people who never wants to disturb other people’s experience of a situation by communicating my own anxiety in the same one but I’ve learned how much more difficult it can be when trying to deal with it alone.

It’s vital for me to take time to understand when my anxiety intensifies in these kinds of situations and having the tools to address it in a way that feels more natural to me in the moment. 

Unfamiliar environments

My childhood and teens were spent mapping out local routes and environments in order to grow my confidence and feel safer in navigating those places. I formed a mental log of the school I attended, walking routes around my home and my local train station. 

But naturally, most places I need and want to go to in life will be completely new to me which can prove a little overwhelming at times.

Navigating any space, especially new ones, takes a lot of thinking and concentration when you’re vision impaired, this isn’t news to my fellow VIP’s, of course. The cogs are constantly turning, forever anticipating what is around, how far is there to walk, where was that landmark, is there anything that can catch me off guard?

There are many techniques and technologies that can soothe these worries or answer some of the endless questions and whilst they do help, I think a part of me will always feel a little anxious in navigating new spaces and that’s okay. 

Sometimes it’s necessary to accept these anxieties as things that are simply part and parcel of life as a vision impaired person, and recognising that they do not make me weak, they make me human. 

I think it’s safe to say that the vision impairment experience isn’t linear, there are hills and valleys to move through, days when these anxieties might not manifest themselves in such a tangible way as they have before but, ultimately, recognising them is the gateway to a more flexible, honest and forgiving relationship with myself.

---

Are you a fellow vision impaired person who can relate to any of the feelings I’ve noted here? A part of me has always been quite hesitant to articulate these things, perhaps out of fear that they might be construed as dramatic or redundant, but I do think it’s time we stop assessing whether someone’s worries are worthy of being so or not. I focus a lot on the positives on here but I also don’t shy away from the realities and slightly more hard-hitting topics which is why I thought it was about time I wrote about these anxieties of mine. If they’re something you have or do experience too, just know that your feelings and emotions are fair and absolutely valid.

Elin x