Out of Focus

I am blind. Without my glasses or contacts, things more than four inches away get blurry. Those who know me best get a kick out of the fact that when I go sans prescriptive eyewear, my hearing sort of goes out of focus as well (I think it has something to do with how much I rely on body language and facial expression).

While at the eye doctor yesterday for my yearly visit, as I chose between "1 or 2, 3 or 4...now read the smallest row you can see," I was thinking about near sightedness and life. There was a time in my life I had my future mapped out years in advance. In high school it was one of those illustrious letters your young women leaders make you write to yourself ("go on a mission, then finish college, marry at 25"--the same list we've all made). In college, I could tell you a fairly specific list of which classes I'd be taking three years from that moment. I knew exactly what life looked like through December 2005: Graduation. That general estimate of what was around the bend was comforting to me. It made me feel safe, like the daily to do lists I wrote each day. The future felt under control, therefore I felt in control. As time passed, I had these baby step accomplishments--things I could check off and then tangibly see that I was closer to my destination.

Cue January 2006. In a matter of two weeks, my neatly wrapped up plans loosened, unraveled a bit, then disintegrated completely. And since then I can only see four inches ahead of me without things getting blurry. My goals are more of these hazy ideas of what I think I might like to do, but my heart won't break if I don't accomplish each on my list. (After all, one can live a full and happy life even if one never makes it to India). Problem is, I'm still trying to adjust to this lifestyle where goals are much blurrier things. It is a one-day-at-a-time kind of lifestyle and, frankly, I struggle with it.

Anyway, I suppose this is all a bit of a rambling blog post without a conclusion. I wish I were more okay with the whole out of focus business, but I'm not. I simply cannot feed you some line about "the beauty in the surprise of it all" and how "we all receive moments of clarity, yadda, yadda, yadda." Clarity-schmarity! I feel lost. AND I hate surprises! There, I said it. Surprises leave you with a bad hair day in your least favorite fat shirt on the one day you want to look your best. Truth is, I wish I had a clearer vision of where this Rookie Boat was sailing. I wish there were more chances to put on a nice pair of prescriptive life glasses that make things clear, my own little Liahona, if you will. I want to know that I'm moving in a forward direction. I want to see in clarity my path before me rather than this out of focus nonsense life often feels like.

So, there you have it. Tell me if you are feeling me, people! Oh, and talk loudly, I can't hear well without my glasses on.