“Look at the puppy and call out the numbers using your peripheral vision.”
I’m sitting in the optometrist’s office and she’s going over the instructions for the first set of vision therapy exercises. My eyes throb and I want to take a nap. I can’t do any of these exercises. I feel like a fool for even being here. What on earth made me think this was a good idea?
After they opened my skull and took out most of the tumor, leaving the fragments for a year’s worth of chemo and a lifetime’s allowance of radiation, my eyes were off. Watching TV or looking at screens was like riding a rollercoaster. Nausea and vomiting were instant consequences of trying to do either. Reading was weird too. The letters started off okay on the left side and then jumbled together as I went across the page.
You can tell me I have high level brain cancer but you’re not going to stop me reading. What’s life without reading? I forced myself to read anyway, made myself get used to it. My brain figured out workarounds over time and life went back to the new normal.
Yada, yada, yada, four years later I’m doing fine. The cancer retreated and my eyes settled down. I can read and watch TV no problem but I’m fed up of the migraines and the fatigue. Maybe I’ll get my contacts checked. It’s been years, and I’m starting to believe I’ll be around long enough to take care of minor things like being able to see properly.
Well, how about that!
The contacts are amazing. They say I need vision therapy. I’m excited to find out that’s an option. I know I’ve done what I know how to do, time to let the pros try.
I find a way to pay for it, and there I am, forcing myself to stay in the chair while I stare at a little puppy picture and imagine I can see all the numbers surrounding it in my peripheral vision.
At first, working with a professional organizer can feel like that
The clutter has bothered you forever. You’ve never known quite how to manage what seems easy to everyone else.
If your parents kept everything, you never saw it done right.
If they kept everything neat as a pin but didn’t teach you the skills in a way that made sense to you, you never figured out how it was done.
After you reach a crisis point, you vow to get help. You’re so excited to do something different, so sick of compensating with the strategies you’ve picked up or cobbled together thus far. There must be a better way but damned if you can figure it out.
You hire someone, and then when you get started it’s all too much. Your brain can’t handle it, it’s exhausting. Discouraged? That doesn’t begin to cover it. You figure organizing’s not for you after all. You’re condemned to live like this forever.
READ MORE >>> Decluttering motivation
But wait now
Four weeks later, after short daily practice session of twenty minutes a day (funny that), I can see half the numbers. Another four weeks and I’ll nail this.
It’s the same when you get organized. Slow and steady wins the race and breaking it down into bite-sized pieces works. Make sure your organizer is on board with that and then jump in. Vision therapy’s a process and so is getting organized. Both have spectacular results ahead!
by Lucy Kelly
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