Midnight Reflections

I have a problem.

I delve too far into my future that I begin planning it out before things even happen. Right now, I am thinking too far deep into my future children and my genetic eye disease. I’m still not entirely sure if they’re even going to exist. I’m not sure how much worse my eyes will get.

R.I.P. Iris, you would’ve loved your name.

Years of gatekeeping that gorgeous name and yet she will never come to be. Maybe. I’m still indecisive about it. I haven’t quite yet made my mind up about you my Iris. I know I have lots of time to even consider it. I’m only twenty. I’d like to be a mother someday. I just don’t see that ever happening in the future. Currently, I am going through hell with my eye disease.

I haven’t felt brave enough to admit this to anyone but I feel my eye disease progressing and I’m scared. I can just tell. Bright lights like the sun really screw with my vision. There are some things I don’t see the same anymore.

Color.

I can tell that I am slowly losing color vision. I’m really scared. For some weird reason, purple has become my enemy. Purple must have personal beef with me. I can’t make out the color purple as much as I used to. Light purple at least. Darker shades of purple and other colors are easier to see. The amount of times I have confused purple with brown is genuinely terrifying ’cause how the hell is that not brown? You’re seriously telling me those bed sheets have been purple this whole time? They are clearly brown!

I’ll admit fear strikes each time I confuse colors. It just means my eyes are getting worse. When they get too bad, what do I do? Who am I going to become? I hate feeling incompetent. I know I am capable. It’s just this stupid eye disease preventing me from doing things that normal people can do. I just want to be normal. I want to do what I love like late night drives, stroll around pavements in the dark and admire the moon.

If I can’t do this then how could I possibly ever have children? My Iris will never come to be. Maybe she will, she just won’t have the name I had picked out since, I believe, junior year. I don’t understand why my eyes are like this. It is so unfair. I wish whichever one of my fuck ass ancestors that passed this down to me is happy.

For that same reason, I feel like I can’t have kids. It is just too cruel and unfair to pass down a lifetime of abnormalities to someone innocent. What if this disease touches my Iris? I can’t do that to her. I can’t do that to any of my children, grandchildren or great-grandchildren. I find it inhumane.

Friends, families and lovers have told me it is not unfair or selfish. I just can’t help but feel like it is. I feel like it is my responsibility to tell any man I marry that I probably shouldn’t have kids. I couldn’t do that to them. Does this foreshadow how good of a mother I’d be? I’m already protecting the family that I haven’t created yet.

I know I am in no rush to think about things like marriage, mortgages and kids but damn I can’t help but think about the future. It’s better than thinking about the past which was something I always did. This is growth, isn’t it?

I am torn between the decision of being selfish and being selfless. I am damned if I do and damned if I don’t. It’s a catch 22. Maybe Iris won’t come to be but I sure as hell have other names picked out that I love just as much. Maybe those names and dreams of my future daughter will convince me. I’m not perfect. I am far from it. I know theres much more work to get done as a twenty year old. I’m just a deep ponderer.

Apart from my baby Iris, I know I’ll overcome this disease. Will it be curable? Nope. Will I still be the same old me? Maybe. Do I have the love and support I need to pull me through? Abso-fucking-lutley.

I am a very strong, brave woman. There is nothing I can’t do. I have so much to offer myself and the world. I’ve been through a lot already. I know this eye disease is no match for this tough bitch. However, what makes me damn near perfect is my honesty in admitting my flaws. I overthink. I ponder. I get in my own head sometimes. I am human and I am beautiful for it.

I will continue to strive for acceptance in what I cannot undo. My commitment to my future is greater than my attachment to my past.

Someday, I will have my Iris when I accept that I am not my eye disease. I am more than. I am me. I am everything that comes with me. I am myself with family, friends, lovers and someday myself as a mother.

– A