Rollercoaster

Do you ever feel as if you’ve got a lot going on, but in reality, you’re not doing much of anything? That’s pretty much how the last week has played out. I should be crossing things off my to-do list right now, but that’s not going to happen. Instead, I’m going share with you a bit about some of the stuff that’s been going on in my world. Actually, most, if not all, of what I’m about to share happened in a single day—last Monday.

Some of you have been asking about my “leap“. Well… It did not end the way I had hoped. If I had gone my way, it would have meant that I’d get a much needed 12 week escape from my current reality. When I got word that my “wish” was granted to somebody else, my first thought was that “the powers that be” made a poor choice. I know that what I just said may come off as something a sore loser would say, but that’s not how it was. I truly can’t imagine anyone being more suited for that “leap” than me. And trust me, when I—someone who has difficulty recognizing my own strengths—actually believe that nobody is better suited for something, you better damn well believe nobody is! Hours later, when it really sunk in that I’d be stuck in my same dull routine for the foreseeable future, I broke down in tears. The crying continued for hours. 

That wasn’t the only blow I suffered that day. I got slapped with bad news at the optometrists office too.  I knew I couldn’t see out of my right eye, but I didn’t know why. Some time in the last year (after I had last seen both my optometrist and my ophthalmologist) I developed cataract in the centre of my field of vision and it had grown to nearly the size of my pupil. My optometrist told me that he would write a letter to my ophthalmologist requesting that I be put on the priority list for surgery. I will be visiting my ophthalmologist this Friday afternoon. I’ll know more about what’s going to happen then.

The reason I went for my eye exam in the first place was that I was almost out of contacts. My eye doctor told me that he didn’t want to sell me contacts until I got my issue straightened out. Instead, he gave me a box of single use disposable trial lenses. At first I thought they were fantastic. With them, I could see (with my “good eye”) three more lines on the chart than I could see with the lenses I had before. In the car on the way home I still thought the lenses were fantastic. I could see abso-freaking-lutely everything! There were moments on the drive home when the clarity of road signs, birds, and litter triggered happy tears.  I fantasized about the day (after cataract surgery) when I’d be able to see that well with the other eye, and that made me cry even more. Now for the no-so-fantastic part. Those trial lenses don’t correct my astigmatism or presbyopia. When I arrived back in my town, I stopped at the bank. I had to sign a document, but I couldn’t see it.  Reading glasses would have helped with that, but I didn’t have them with me. Later that day, I discovered that reading glasses don’t help me to see my work. For that, I either need a bifocal lens or a weaker prescription. I literally haven’t gotten a damn thing done at work this week. And wouldn’t you know it, after months of having nothing to do, I suddenly have lots of things that need doing.

After giving up on trying to get anything done at work that day, I went out to blow off some steam. While I was out, a man off in the distance caught my eye. His back was toward me, and he was walking away, but there was something magnetic about the way he carried himself.  I couldn’t take my eye(s) off of him. I was bummed when he turned a corner and I lost sight of him.  A few minutes later, he reappeared. He was still a fair distance away from me—far enough away that I would never have seen his face with my old contacts, but with the trial lens I was wearing, his features were crystal clear. He was the guy I couldn’t shake from that dream I had in October!  I can’t help but conclude that crossing paths with him, on that day—a day in which I was on an emotional rollercoaster—was some sort of a sign. (If you have no idea what guy or what dream I’m talking about, you can read about it here in the last, “If we were having coffee right now,” paragraph.)

And just when I thought more “stuff” couldn’t possibly happen on that day, the hourly notifications to remind me to get off my ass stopped working on my Fitbit! I fixed that issue today! I think that’s a sign too—a sign that everything else is going to be fine in the end.