What I wish I had known when I was first diagnosed.

What I would tell my younger self…

I was diagnosed legally blind with Progressive Cone Dystrophy in 1992.

Back then, I did everything I could to blend in. I walked through a sighted world pretending I could see. I didn’t want to identify as someone with a disability because of all the stigmas, judgments and attitudes towards disability. I didn’t use a white cane, as I didn’t want people staring at me. I didn’t want them asking questions or accusing me of faking it because I still had some vision. I thought using a cane would single me out as less than. 

All that hiding didn’t make life easier for me. It just made it lonelier, scarier, and more exhausting.

Everything changed in 2015, when I met two women who were both blind and completely confident. That was the beginning of my acceptance journey.

In 2016, I attended the Louisiana Center for the Blind, a full-time, nine-month rehab program where I trained under learning shades “blindfold” for 40 hours a week. That may sound extreme, but it changed my life in more ways than words could ever express.

I didn’t just learn non-visual techniques; I learned how to live fully, independently, and proudly.

Once I started using a cane, everything shifted. I wasn’t staring down at the sidewalk anymore, scanning every crack and curb. My cane did the work, detecting obstacles, reading the world around me, while I held my head up high.

You know what?

People started moving out of the way, so I wasn’t always playing the guessing game as to which way others would move, and travelling became easier, and I started going more places. The best part was that I stopped worrying about what others thought of me. 

Why did I care so much that strangers were staring at me? When I can’t see them anyway. 

If I could go back and speak to my younger self, I’d say this: Don’t worry about what others think. Do what makes your life easier. Try the tools available; they’re what give you freedom.

Learning blindness techniques gave me my life back. I cannot do things the way sighted people do things, but I can do them only differently. 

To anyone who’s resisting the tools that could help: Please don’t wait as long as I did.

It’s not weakness.

It’s wisdom.

“Having a disability does not change who we are, it changes our interactions with the world,”