To See and Be Seen: My Visit to Grey St. Opticians

Our key to transforming anything lies in our ability to reframe it. — Marianne Williamson

Friday

I’ve worn glasses since I was eleven years old — that’s fifty-one years for anyone counting! I’ve had my current pair for a dozen years or more. They’re still fine for distance, but over the past twelve months I’ve found it increasingly difficult to work on my laptop, phone, or tablet without headaches and eye strain. After some research and asking friends and colleagues for recommendations, I made an appointment with Grey St. Opticians in the centre of Newcastle. As I write this, my appointment is one day away.

The crucial thing is to see clearly again. That’s largely the optician’s responsibility, to perform the eye test and prescribe the correct lenses. I’ve had issues in the past where I’ve been prescribed glasses that were so wrong they were unusable. That’s partly why I’ve kept my current pair as long as I have. But choosing new frames is also important. That bit’s down to me, and it’s the part I’m most nervous about. I’ve never been cool or stylish, or even had much of an idea what those words mean. My new glasses will be a statement of who-I-am-now that I’ll be living with for the next few years. I want to get it right. I’m hoping the folk at Grey St. can give me some advice and suggestions.

There’s more to it than just my appearance, though. I’ve been thinking more generally about who I am at this stage in my life, how I see myself, and how I would like to be seen. One friend expressed it perfectly. “It’s about perception,” she said. “And looking at your world with different eyes.” Two words that keep coming up for me in this regard are reframing and vision. From the moment I begin wearing my new glasses, I’ll present differently to family, friends, and colleagues. The world will look different to me too. In sharper focus, hopefully, but also literally re-framed. In a different context, reframing (specifically, positive cognitive reframing) is a term from cognitive behavioral therapy that Fran and I know well.

In simple terms, it involves being aware of our negative, harmful, or limiting behaviours and thoughts; assessing them for relevance; and where necessary changing or adapting them to better meet our needs. It reminds me that we all have patterns of thinking and behaving that we tend to repeat without confirming they still serve our best interests. This is something I explored in Rewriting the Stories We Tell Ourselves. Some stories will still be valid, but most are little more than strategies we’ve evolved to keep from expanding our horizons. What stories am I telling myself these days, that limit or no longer serve me? It’s an ongoing process, but I’ve uncovered a few that could stand rewriting, or deleting entirely.

Vision isn’t just about seeing things clearly. It’s about how we perceive the world and our role in it. Fran and I once wrote a vision statement for our mental health work.

Our vision is a world where no one is too far away to be cared for or to care.

I stand by that, but it doesn’t go far enough. I’ve explored this before, most directly in Connection, Creativity and Challenge: In Search of My First Best Destiny. Two years on from that piece, I remain uncertain of my place and purpose but I’ve not given up, on myself or on the world. Looking harder hasn’t worked. Maybe I need to look differently.

Revision (re-vision) invites us to look at the world from a different perspective. I know something about this, because I tend to live vicariously through the lives and experiences of my friends. There are pitfalls, but it offers ample opportunity to see things from points of view other than my own. As a writer, revision also suggests to me revising or editing. I have a blogging workflow that helps me craft my rough ideas into a finished piece of writing. The same process can be applied to our narratives about the past. Like the self-limiting stories I mentioned earlier, the way we think and talk about the past affects how we see and relate to things in the present.

This isn’t an argument for rewriting history to suit ourselves. The things that happened in our lives and in our relationships happened. We can’t edit them out of existence. Our histories were nevertheless written in the language of earlier times. Reviewing them in the light of our present situation can bring peace, forgiveness, and a more compassionate undertanding of ourselves and others. In the words of novelist and poet May Sarton, “Revision is not going back and fussing around, but going forward into the highly complex and satisfying process of creation.”

New glasses won’t magically change my thinking or grant me a new perspective on life. They can help, however, by reminding me that I have a say in how I present to the world and perceive it. That’s a potent, and scary, thought! As American author Marianne Williamson wrote, “Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be?” I’d like to feel at least some of those things again.

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Saturday

It felt important to capture how I felt about this whole “getting a new pair of glasses” thing before my appointment, but if you’ve read this far I’m sure you’re wondering how I got on. Did I need new glasses? Did I find frames I’m happy with? Did it change my life? In short, yes, yes, and it’s early days but maybe! I’ll do a “frames reveal” post in a couple of weeks when I collect my new glasses but I want to share how the appointment went, because it more than met my expectations. I’ll start with a huge thank you to everyone at Grey St., especially Nic and Becks who took such great care of me and guided me through every step of the process.

Given that this was all about finding a pair of glasses that fit my personality, I’d put some thought into how I presented. I chose my black and white LIFE IS SHORT BLOG MORE t-shirt. I figured it would provide a neutral tone if I was trying on coloured frames, and also express an important aspect of who I am. It was a good choice. It gave me an opportunity to talk about the blog, my friendship with Fran, our book, and some of the other things I’m into. It also helped explain why I spend so much of my time in front of a screen! I told Becks I was planning to blog about my visit, which I hope didn’t put her under any undue pressure!

She began by asking about my current glasses, how long I’d had them, any issues I was having, and what style of frames I was interested in. It helped that I’d checked their Instagram account in advance and had screenshot a few that caught my eye. Nic then took me downstairs for my eye exam. I won’t go into all the details, but I can’t recall a more thorough or comprehensive examination. He described each test as we went along, and explained the results in some detail. I loved seeing the retinal scans, especially the 3D model of the inside of my eyes. Not for the squeamish, perhaps, but I found it fascinating. He explained how my eyesight has changed since my last exam (a natural degradation in some areas, a little improvement in others) and what differences I can expect from my new glasses when I get them.

Nic handed me back to Becks for what I imagined would be the most difficult part of the whole process: choosing the frames! While I’d been downstairs, she’d selected maybe a dozen frames, and we started by whittling that down to four or five contenders. It was a really good way of working, and something I can’t recall from visiting other opticians in the past. Becks offered suggestions and guidance, but I never felt pushed towards a particular pair or rushed to make a decision. I finally brought my selection down to two frames. Either would have been good but we both preferred the same pair. I took a deep breath. The decision was made!

We then discussed lens options, coatings, etc. This was another important step but the decisions were far easier for me to make. The final bill came to more than I’d anticipated, but that was down to my preference and decisions, all of which I was happy with. I still am, a day later. I can’t wait to get the call in a week or two to say my glasses are ready to collect. Given my experience with other opticians in the past, there’ll be a tiny bit of doubt in the back of my mind until I know the prescription is right, but I trust Nic and Becks and have every confidence my new glasses will be perfect.

After my appointment I celebrated by visiting one of my old haunts, Caffè Nero at St. Mary’s Place. Over coffee, a mushroom toastie, and a blueberry muffin I thought through everything that had happened. What meant so much was that they took time to get to know me and what I wanted, even when I was unsure of that myself. I felt valued, heard, and seen, which is really what it was all about. I noticed later that a photo had been posted to the Grey St. Instagram account. It showed the first set of frames Becks selected for me to try, together with my business card. The post said “Helping Martin pick his new glasses was a cracking way to start the day!” It was the perfect close to what had been a great experience for me too.

Thank you!

If you’re looking for a great independent optician in the Newcastle area check out Grey St. on their website, Instagram, or Facebook.

 

Photo by Bud Helisson at Unsplash.

 

Crossing Roads

By Roiben

We all hope in today’s society with its constant rush and pressure that people can still be good, helpful and polite. That we would, upon seeing a person in need, stop like the much-fabled good Samaritan, and help. That we would hold doors open, offer to carry heavy bags and help an older person across the road.

However, there is such thing as being a little over-eager to help and perhaps misguided in how to go about it. I have recently begun using a long cane. Michael Cane, my new and trusty friend, is helping me get about my daily life. I had been warned that using the cane does have its drawbacks, in attracting overly helpful people. It was still a shock to the system when it happened.

I was walking a well-known route from an underground station to work. This involves crossing a few roads. I stopped at the traffic lights to the first road and prepared to wait for the lights to change. Out of nowhere a man grabbed my right arm (the arm holding the cane). He had said nothing to me up to this point. He pulled me forward a step, then signaled for me to stop by pulling my arm backwards. At that point he said “It’s red.” It took me a few moments to realize he meant the traffic light, not my stripy cane. We waited, then a lady on my right (who apparently was with the man) said “Go” and we all walked across the road.

I was glad to get across the road safely, but would have much rather done so under my own steam like I do every other week-day. The key thing here is not that the couple wanted to help me. It was how they went about it.

There is a rather over-zealous belief in today’s society that the disabled need to be helped. By this I mean a belief that we are not capable of making decisions and doing things for ourselves, so we need help to do it. In taking my arm, the man had decided I needed help to cross the road, due most likely to my cane. In doing so he removed my ability to choose for myself whether or not I wanted assistance.

This is a common thing: people “helping” disabled people because they have a cane, a wheelchair or otherwise. I have heard stories of people being pushed across the road when they did not in fact want to go that way, or being dragged to places they had no intention to go to. All because someone has assumed that is what is wanted and wants to “help”.

So, what point am I trying to make? Yes, it is a good thing to want to help your fellow human. However, doing so in a way that removes their independence, choice and in many cases dignity, is not good. I would ask that if you want to help, do one simple thing first: Ask. Ask the person with the cane, or dog, or wheelchair if they want help. They may say yes, they may say no. The point is that it should be up to the disabled individual if they require assistance in that moment.

I have had many people ask me if I want assistance. In most cases I say thank you, but I am okay. Because in all honesty, in most cases I am fine. I know where I am going and how to get there. I am still so new to using the cane that I haven’t yet been in a situation where I have needed help. I have not got lost yet or had my normal route changed to the point of disorientating me. It will happen, eventually. It just has not happened yet.

There are some indicators that a person may need help and that help would be gratefully accepted if offered. Firstly, as with non-disabled people, if someone is standing looking lost or distressed, especially if it is somewhere with many junctions, such as a tube station. Or, if someone with a guide dog is standing or sitting, and the harness is not being held (but the lead is). This may mean the individual needs assistance. In both of these cases, you should introduce yourself and then ask if assistance is needed, and what assistance that may be.

A person in a wheelchair who is just sitting looking around may well be taking in the weather – so don’t assume they need help and certainly don’t go about pushing them around places without first asking. They may have a mobility impairment but that doesn’t mean they are incapable of making decisions for themselves.

In my experience those of us with disabilities are great at adapting to the world we are faced with and are fabulous problem solvers as a result. Some of the cleverest people I have ever had the pleasure to meet have been disabled.

 

About the Author

You can find Roiben on Twitter (@roiben).

 

Visual Spaces

By Roiben

I write this, looking back over a lifetime of not fitting into boxes. I have a severe hearing loss. I am Type 1 Diabetic. I have a mental illness. I am bisexual. I am many things that do not fit the “norm”.

Today though, I want to talk about the thing I probably spend the least time talking about. I am visually impaired. I had cataracts as a baby, which permanently damaged my vision. I am blind in my left eye. It notices change in light and movement — but it can’t tell what is moving. My right eye has some damage to the cones and rods which mean I find it hard to distinguish between certain colours and shades. I also have Astigmatism and, as the right eye is doing all the grunt work, it can get tired easily. I also, thanks to years of Diabetes, have Stage 1 Retinopathy.

Ultimately, this means I lack stereoscopic vision — I am not able to judge distance or speed of objects and have no depth perception. I am one of those people who need markers on steps and curbs to get around in my day to day life.

What does this have to do with boxes, I hear you ask. Well, although I am visually impaired, I am classed as having too much vision in my right eye to be legally classed as Partially Sighted. The regulations and checks require a significant loss of vision in both eyes to count. So, despite being fairly severely visually impaired in lay-man’s terms, I do not fit into the legal box-ticking exercise that could enable me to get more assistance.

According to the Royal National Institute of Blind People (RNIB), the UK’s leading charity supporting blind and partially sighted people, there are over 200 eye conditions — and there are many, many people, like me, who do not fit the boxes. As is the case with many such boxes, there are many people falling between the gaps, who perhaps actually need the help the box checking would provide. It is perhaps more well known in the case of Mental Health, where someone can literally be told they are too ill, or too chronic to get the help they so desperately need. In this instance, I wonder how many of those people who do not fit the regulatory definitions and limitations could actually really, really do with the help?

As things stand, my vision in my right eye is deteriorating. The Astigmatism is getting worse and I have had to change my glasses prescription to match. I have to keep a close watch on my blood sugars as well, because that affects my retinopathy — which is always at a risk of getting worse.

Maybe one day, I will fit into that box. Maybe I never will. Either is okay. I am me, and I have grown up with all these things and in doing so have put in place my own coping mechanisms. I learn routes and places. I am a creature of habit and often put things in the same places, or walk the same route from A to B. I know how many steps there are on certain staircases and with practice can walk the ones I know with ease. I have learnt to keep a clear route between my bed and the door, kitchen and toilet.

The main problems come when there is a change. A diversion. Shoes left out in my “path” or a chair moved. When walking unknown places, or a different route, I tend to slow down, to take more notice and be more cautious. I trace my route along walls and banisters and follow any signs or maps I can find. Then I remember it, in case I have to take the same route again.

As with all my disabilities, I have adapted and learnt ways “around” it in order to continue living life the best I can. I just worry for those who perhaps have not yet learned adaptations, or who struggle in their own ways and could do with getting more help.

 

About the Author

You can find Roiben on Twitter (@roiben).