"Abnormally Normal" By Maybel O

“Why does your eye look like that? Are your glasses double-lensed? They're so weird.” she said.

The milky white galaxy on my deformed left pupil stared back at her through a concave lens a centimeter thick.

          Although they were nothing new, my classmate’s words took me by surprise. I felt my cheeks burn hot red. A lump in my throat formed as sweat began to bead on my forehead. I could only stammer, “Umm...it’s a long story...” as I frantically tried to think about an explanation that wasn’t too technical.

          “I’m completely blind in my left eye because I was born three months premature.” I finally answered. After being asked by countless peers about my appearance, that's the standard answer I have crafted. The shock on their faces that often follows is always interesting to watch.

          I walk into my first class of the morning and take my seat in the middle of the front row. Honors Physics. I bend down to concentrate on the current assignment.

“Maybel, did you not get enough sleep this morning? Sit up please.” my teacher notes.

          With my right eye’s 20/100 vision, my head sits less than an inch away from my desk, my nose barely brushing the surface of it. To others, I look half asleep. Quite amusing sometimes. “Sorry, I can't help it. I can't see otherwise.” I explain. It's an unavoidable obstacle for me. Squinting at small text, walking right up to the board, asking for enlarged papers, and being careful as I walk down stairs are a part my daily life.

          My physics teacher proceeds with the day's lesson. Projectile motion is the topic of interest today. He writes the necessary formulas on the board. Despite being seated in the front row, all I can see are microscopic lines of numbers and symbols. Not wanting to interrupt my teacher's lecture, I quietly ask the classmate seated next to me if I can see her notes for a moment.

          A few days later, we test on the concepts we learned. I'm handed my enlarged copy, a monstrosity on large 11x14 inch poster paper. Classmates stare. I've grown used to it over the years. Sometimes, I'm secretly relieved if a teacher forgets to enlarge a paper because I feel normal. Sometimes, I feel like an outsider.

But then again, there's no use in trying to be “normal.”

          People often ask me what it looks like to be able to only see through one eye. Likewise, I often wonder what it would be like to have sight in both eyes. I'll never know, and that's OK.

          For me, being cautious about my surroundings, extra meticulous in completing assignments, and asking for help when I can't see something became commonplace from a young age. Because I have no depth perception, going down stairs is a struggle. I have tripped over the edge countless curbs, both painted and unpainted ones. In elementary school, it was embarrassing to have to receive extra help. Although I was fortunate enough to never be bullied, I knew classmates viewed me differently. I remember people in elementary school would ask me questions about my appearance. I didn't really see it as an intrusive or annoying thing because I didn't know any perception of the world beyond my own at that age.

          However, my parents saw it as a bad thing so in middle school, they paid $1800 for an acrylic contact lens to be made for me, painted over to look like a normal eye. Oh, how the concept of saving face in Asian culture makes me want to bang my head against a wall. In middle school I wore the lens without protest because I felt self conscious, although I was never actually bullied or teased. As I grew older, I learned to accept and show compassion towards myself. In high school I refused to wear the lens anymore, much to the frustration of of my well meaning but overbearing parents. Many fights ensued between my parents and I over that tiny piece of acrylic, but eventually my parents let me have my way.

          In my world, nothing’s off limits. Rather, I simply have to take a different path to achieve the same goals as my classmates. Tasks often take me longer to complete and I have to be extra careful, but that doesn't limit me. I refuse to set lower expectations for myself because of my sight.

In that sense, I suppose one could say I'm resilient, driven by grit.

I'm also abnormally normal. And that's OK.