It's Sunday morning. We have a bit of a social morning planned, no
swimming this week as the swimming club has a charity bowling day
instead.
We leave our cosy warm house at around a quarter to nine and catch a
taxi to the church. The sun is lovely and warm, but not too high in the
sky yet, so very uncomfortable for someone who has no pigment in their
eyes to filter out the light. In summer, although the light is
brighter, it's at a different angle to winter. The light is coming into
your eyes at a much more direct angle in winter, it's blinding, the
contrast is extreme - I can see either bright blinding light, or black
shadows, maybe a shape or two, and some movement, but not much else. As
I get out of the taxi, and although it's very uncomfortable to look
around in the sun, I can see that the footpath/kerb is only a couple of
steps away by where the cars are parked at the side of the road. The
footpath is in the shade and the cars are in the sun with sunlight
reflecting off them. I know the people with albinism reading this are
quietly saying 'ouch' to themselves. I'm thinking at this point that I
should be using my cane, but I know it's only a short way to the door
and relatively flat. I can't see where the path from the footpath to
the door begins and a cane won't help with that. Thankfully Ash is
helpful and lets me know it's just a few steps in 'this'I
direction. The path is shaded, so is mostly black to me against the
building and grass which are in the sun, and also barely visible
because the sun is so brightly reflecting off them. I am aware of other
people around, but have no idea who they would be, I wonder if I know
any of them? It seems unfair that they can see me and I can't see them.
I can see where they are going in the door, so follow with Noah holding
my hand so I don't loose him in the crowd. I know Ash will follow and
find her own way. We pass through the foyer which has sun streaming in
through the windows and go into the main area of the church, which in
contrast is all black at first, apart from the stained glass windows.
In a few seconds I can just make out where the seats are and whether
they are taken or empty. The floor is dark, I think it is dark green,
and I'm hoping there are no obstacles like bags on the floor, because
if there were I wouldn't see them because it's so dark down there! The
lighting, although not too bright, is still uncomfortable. There is
light coming in through the windows and just darkness inside, so again
just light and dark, not much in between. I can see that there are
people moving around and taking their seats, but again I have no idea
who they are, are they looking at me, is there anyone I know here? are
people trying to make eye contact with me and thinking that I'm on
another planet because I don't acknowledge them, or do people just come
here and mind their own business? I have no idea. By the sounds I can
hear, the room is quite full, lots of quiet rustling near and far, a
baby squawking some distance away. We are on our own in our row though,
no one is really close. Suddenly a voice starts talking through a
microphone. I assume the priest (?) is up the front of the church, all
I can see is four lights, I assume candles, I have no idea where he is,
I can't tell by the sound because it's coming through speakers that
fill the whole room. Prayers are said, we all stand, sit, stand, sit. I
don't really participate, I don't know all the responses, I'm clueless
really, but it's nice to listen to, it feels good The singing is nice,
I wish I could join in but I can't read the words that are projected
onto the screen up the front. I can see the screen, but haven't a hope
of reading what it says. Singing while holding a monocular is just not
as enjoyable, I'd rather just listen than have to hold my arm there all
that time and suffer a sore neck afterwards. The voice on the mike
calls the kids up the front to go do their thing. I'm so glad I have
well behaved trustworthy kids - they disappear out of sight, bit of a
panic there, I hope they are ok, but I just can't keep them in my sight
all the time, I have to trust (in something?) that they will be ok so
they can get some independence. I can't watch them from a distance like
other parents, so it's always been a bit like jumping out of an
aeroplane and hoping your parachute will open for me. I have to hope
that someone will let me know if they are not ok. They eventually
return safe and sound. Noah wriggles his way through the rest of the
service and we get up to leave at the end. Walking from the dark church
into the bright foyer is blinding, I can see a big black blob of people
making their way out the door, slowly. I can't see any colours, just a
black lump of people shapes. I hear someone say hello, I hope they are
not talking to me, because I can't see who might have said it, but I
think they are talking to someone they know now, as I hear someone
respond, that's a relief, and a disappointment. I wish I knew someone
here, but I'm glad I don't because I probably wouldn't recognise them
and that could be embarrassing. I wonder if people think I'm a snob
because I'm not making eye contact, or are they just not looking anyway
so it doesn't matter? I get my cane out, what a relief. I know in my
head that it's a wheelchair accessible church, but it's nice to have
the backup of being able to feel the flat ground, and to know where the
gentle slopes are, these can be hard on the knees and hips when
unexpected. There was a nice feeling during that service. It sounded
nice, the singing was enjoyable, the choir was great, I love choirs.
Nice to be somewhere where everyone is together, with a common
intention, even though I had no real contact with anyone except my kids
and no real understanding of the Catholic rituals. I'm not there for
the rituals so much, it's the gathering of people with the intention of
connecting to something bigger than us that I am attracted to. I've
never said prayers before, but they are nice to listen to. It's good to
reflect on those who are being prayed for, and to think about someone
other than myself and how I'm always wondering what I can't see lol.
I knew the bowling green was very sunny, I've been there before. It
is way too quiet and way too sunny. I couldn't hear voices well enough
to recognise where the people I was looking for were. They were too far
away. We walked around for a while. I asked the kids if they could see
anyone familiar and they couldn't. I could see where the bowling greens
were, and the people bowling, but I couldn't recognise anyone. I can't
see fine detail, which is necessary to pick one person from another.
Even if I could see fine detail, the sun just made opening my eyes too
uncomfortable, yes, even with sunglasses. Then I heard my name, finally
someone I know! I had a short chat to her, but it seemed everyone
(whoever they were) was fairly engrossed in their bowling. I have no
idea if I knew any of the people bowling. I wonder if they saw me, did
they wave or smile? I don't know. Did I look like a goose for not
waving or smiling back? I know the lighting inside the bowling club was
bad for me, big bright sunny windows with dark shadows. I've been there
before so I didn't bother to go inside, I don't think I can take the
kids in there anyway. I wonder if there were people I knew inside
looking out wondering why I didn't go inside? or not. I just don't
know, but left feeling very disappointed that I hadn't had the social
day I had expected.
I'm giving myself half an hour to feel miserable about being on my own
and not being able to find people; to feel the frustration of being
lonely in a crowd; to feel like screaming WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE
PEOPLE!!!! WHY CAN'T THEY JUST TALK TO ME!!!; to be angry that I'm on
my own when I should have a partner to help me, to wish that I could
give my kids more freedom and not restrict them because of my vision;
to feel envious of all the married people who have their groups of
married friends with whom the 'single' people don't fit in; to wish the
brightness of the sun would just GO AWAY, but keep the warmth; to wish
that it wasn't such an effort to go out and find people; to be angry
that I get 'vision impairment' and 'single in my 40's' that seems like
a double punishment. Then I will get over it and bounce back, again.
A.
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