LIFE IN MY BODY…
with a visual impairment
I was born entirely blind in one eye. In the other, my level of sight is comparable to looking through the porthole of a ship: if you came and stood next to me, I wouldn’t realise you were there unless I completely turned my head. Things that you probably find easy, like crossing the road, can be tough for me – especially if it’s an electric car coming, as they’re silent. My eyes also move involuntarily and hone in on the wrong thing, like a camera with poor autofocus. When I leave the house I need to plan ahead in case I become ill. This is all because of a rare condition that I was born with called septo-optic dysplasia, which also affects my endocrine (hormone) system and glands.
Growing up
I was bullied at school and my parents were even accused of exaggerating my sight loss. University was better – I made real friends – but job hunting has been difficult. I work part-time as a retail assistant now but would love a job in journalism. Interviews can be difficult: either I’ll have to dodge inappropriate questions, like the time I was asked if I was able to take a lunch break alone, or employers panic and gloss over my disability entirely. I wish they’d just ask what support I’d need and let me show that I am capable.
I’ve been writing about my disabilities since I was 18. I wanted to show that blind people can still love fashion and beauty – it’s just about finding new ways of doing things. When make-up shades (often darker ones and corals) are difficult to differentiate, I’ll hold a ring light up to them or FaceTime my mum. She also helps me take photos, and I use a magnifying glass to read packaging. My guide dog, Unity (above, left), changed my life when I got her seven years ago. With her, I can travel alone and am fine when my parents (who I live with) are away.
Daily challenges
Some restaurants ask me to leave because I have Unity with me, despite that being illegal, and it can be hard to navigate busy shops. I can’t chat about the latest “it” book unless an audio version is released, or watch films without an audio description. If I stand still for too long in the street, people come over and ask if I’m OK. They’re trying to be nice, but if they could hear themselves, they’d realise how patronising it sometimes seems.
I have therapy for low mood and anxiety – writing helps keep my mind busy. I walk and keep fit by swimming, as my sight loss doesn’t feel like such a hindrance in the pool. People say your disability doesn’t define you, but it does: I just don’t see that as a negative. The way to overcome something is to accept and respect it, rather than pretending it doesn’t exist.