Blind spot

One of the symptoms of macular degeneration according to the mayo clinic is: Blurred or blind spot in the center of your visual field combined with a profound drop in the sharpness (acuity) of your central vision.

I do not have this physical condition.

I hesitated to use this physical (disease) condition as a metaphor but I'm going to go ahead here. If you know someone who has had it, I don't mean to make light of it, I know it is very serious to lose your vision.

While I was driving today I started thinking about my blind spot. Nothing precipitated this, no near miss with the car or anything. I just started thinking about how in my car there is a big blind spot behind the back passenger doors.

And then it struck me: That is how I'm feeling. Only I feel like the blind spot is smack dab in front of me. I can see things on the periphery, but they seem fuzzy. I'm seriously considering school, but don't know what I want to be (really). I'm already doing something I love, but know that it won't last. My sweet child will grow up, and I'd like to retire someday so I really need to think of something to do in the meantime.

I hesitate to tell people anything about what I want to do, that I want to be in school because I don't want to disappoint them and myself again when I don't follow through. It really depressed me this year for some reason at graduation time because it seems EVERYONE but me has graduated college. I know this isn't reality but it felt that way.

But the metaphor isn't only about school. All I can see in front of me is the unknown. Not that it ever really was "known" but when I was younger it was easier to ignore. All I can feel is my son on my hip and my husband holding my hand and walking into a big black hole (that's how it looks in my mind--not in a bad way necessarily). I suppose maybe the important thing is that I have those two with me walking into the future.

Whether I become a self-saboteur again or smashing success they are there. When I just want to stop walking and sit down, I have a little hand tugging me up, marching along. And the comfort of my husband's hand in mine.

My pastor told a story this week about a passenger ship in WWII crossing the Atlantic Ocean. The captain went to the leader of the British (Royal?) Navy and asked what to do about his fear of being sunk. The commander told him to stay the course. No matter what he saw, he should stay the course, do not turn to the right or left.
When they were well underway, the captain of the ship saw an enemy destroyer to the North. His instinct was to veer left, but remembering what the commander had said, he continued straight for New York City and they were left unharmed.
When they reached the City and had been in port for a few hours, a large destroyer from the British Navy came into view. Unseen, the destroyer had escorted the captain's ship all the way across the Atlantic.

I guess even if I have that huge blind spot I don't need to feel anxious about it. I have my wonderful husband beside me, my son in my arms, and God behind me. Nothing seems quite as scary when I put it that way.