My glasses broke the other night.
I couldn’t bring myself to order a new pair.
I don’t think I want to wear glasses any more.
I got glasses in the fourth grade.
They were a godsend at the time.
I remember taking my glasses on and off repeatedly in my science class.
I was amazed that I could go between seeing well and not seeing well.
The teacher asked me to stop.
I never liked to clean my glasses. My frames were often dirty, something that bothered other people more than me.
My Dad liked to give me cleaning lenses.
I haven’t updated my prescription in a decade. I think that when U do, U invite your eyes to worsen.
I think that when U use your eyes actively, they get stronger, more capable.
There are all kinds of stories about people healing and improving their eyesight through exercises.
I think that glasses block U from connection.
I think they collapse your awareness.
I think they alter your sense of the world. They are lenses, that shape and color everything U see, perceive.
I feel freer without them.
I think that glasses indicate a deep belief that our culture has—an expectation that everything should be, ought to be smooth for us.
The universe doesn’t agree.
A little friction is okay.
A little inconvenience is okay.
I can actually drive just fine without glasses, but not legally, not as per the terms of my insurance, not responsibly.
So I won’t drive.
I won’t need to in Brooklyn.
(I hope to move there later this year.)
Here in Asheville, I’m staying at home most of the time.
I’m not going anywhere besides the grocery store.
I can get rides there when I need them, or use a rideshare app if I really need to.
I won’t be able to see as well.
I can still read books, and see people’s facial expressions when they’re up close.
I won’t be able to see what’s far away. It’s all blurry to me.
I’m excited to learn how to navigate the world in a more present, embodied way.
Relying less on my eyes and more on mindfulness, embodiment. Proprioception. My ears.
No, I don’t want to get LASIK.
Not now, anyway.
I think I made some kind of karmic deal or contract when I got glasses.
There was a time and a place for that contract.
And I think it’s passed.
I don’t want to have that karmic deal any more.
I’m done with it.
I can feel my parents worrying about me.
I can feel my Mom worrying from afar, from beyond the grave.
I’m not looking forward to telling my Dad about this choice. He won’t like it.
“That’s so stupid,” he’ll say.
I’m an adult. It’s my body. It’s my choice.
I told my housemates, as a courtesy.
I do realize it will inconvenience them, and other people who are in my life.
I regret that.
Our house had a whole discussion about it.
I tried to be accommodating, considerate.
And:
I’m not wearing glasses any more.