Stories From the Edge of Blindness

In 2002, Retinitis Pigmentosa changed my life. This is my story of a slow approach to darkness.


writers block


I have been avoiding a lot lately; my writing, people, my blindness.  I feel my vision deteriorating and all the symptoms that come with RP seem to be screaming at me to pay attention, but instead I have a few glasses of wine.  I stay in the house or venture only to familiar places.  I try to forget that I am going blind and I try to help others forget.  Too many other tragedies are flooding the lives of the people I love.  And, the blindness isn’t going anywhere; I wake inside it every morning.  Time for me to look it straight in the face again.  Time for me to venture out among the people.  Time for me to start writing.

The Bump in the Road

For the past month or so, every time I get on the computer, I find myself avoiding the link to this blog; I am twisted up with guilt at not having written and in despair over feeling like I don’t have a damn thing to say.  Perhaps this is the plight of the writer and I just need to roll with the punches, or maybe I am a lazy fuck who is terrified that if I actually keep writing I might have more to say than I ever imagined.  I know I want to be more and do more and yes yes yes, write more.  So why do I avoid my own blog?  Why do I consume bowls of popcorn instead of write each day?  Why do I fear my own voice and keep myself tucked away in the silence?  Not every post has to be genius and not every sentence has to be perfectly choreographed; it just has to be honest and it has to be me.

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