I used to think vision was about sight.
The clarity of detail. The sharpness of words. The way a screen lit up with purpose.
But then Central Serous Retinopathy came.
And what I saw—what I couldn’t see—changed everything.
When my physical vision blurred, my inner vision cracked open.
And for the first time in a long time, I saw clearly.
Not with my eyes—
But with everything else.
I Saw How Much I’d Been Ignoring
I saw how long I had been overriding my body.
The headaches I pushed through.
The exhaustion I downplayed.
The tight chest I called “normal.”
CSR didn’t just stop my eyes.
It revealed the numbness I’d built around my needs.
I Saw the Cost of Always Performing
Even with the blur, I tried to perform.
Tried to work through it.
Tried to stay sharp, fast, efficient.
Why?
Because I was afraid of being seen as anything less than strong.
But CSR made me ask:
What kind of strength is it if it requires abandoning myself?
The kind that doesn’t last.
I Saw What I’d Traded for Productivity
My peace.
My pace.
My presence.
In chasing clarity on a screen, I lost clarity in myself.
And when the screen finally became unreadable—
So did the script I’d been living by.
I Saw What I Needed to Rebuild
Not just my eyes—
But my life around stillness, not stimulation.
Rhythm, not reaction.
Wholeness, not high performance.
I started seeing the good that was already here:
- Morning light through the blinds
- The kindness of a slow conversation
- The miracle of waking up and seeing anything at all
CSR Took My Sight to Give Me Vision
It made me see:
- Where I was lying to myself
- Where I was hustling from fear
- Where I was missing the life right in front of me
And in that new vision, I found something more precious than 20/20—
I found truth.
Bottom Line:
Sometimes it takes losing your sight to finally see.
Not the world as it is—but yourself, as you truly are.
Unedited. Undistracted. Unapologetic.
CSR blurred the edges of my world.
And in the space it cleared,
I finally saw what matters.
