MY PROPHETIC OPTOMETRIST

They say that the eyes are the window to the soul. If my visit to the optometrist today is any indication, I think there's truth to that statement.

Today was my first visit to Tim's optmetrist (now my optometrist as well). For a while now, I've been bothered by my contact lenses and I was hoping that she could give me some advice. What I got from our appointment was more than I had expected.

To summarize her thoughts, she said that my eyes were over-tired and the strain was causing my vision to be unstable. She advised me to stick to wearing glasses for the next three months to give them a break and see if my eyes would relax and stabilize. She also told me I would need to accept that things further away would be fuzzy. As I listened to her explain things, I felt like she was talking about my life! I almost wanted to ask her to slow down so I could journal some of these thoughts before I forgot. But I didn't. ;)

Anyway, it was an enlightening appointment. And the funniest part? At the end, she told me "You don't have to pay (the government will cover it) because... well... you... ah... because of your condition." My eyes are so bad they qualify for healthcare coverage! I don't know whether to sigh or laugh.

A LONG ROAD

I've been thinking lately that I will probably take at least three years to fully recover from burning out. It's been almost a year and a half now and I'm still needing at least 10 hours of sleep a night (plus napping some days), feeling a deficit of self-confidence (although it has gotten better) and resisting responsibility.

I was re-reading the article "Emotional Fatigue" the other day and it suggested that for some people, the amount of time it took to do the damage is the amount of time it will take to undo the damage. If that is true, I might be looking at something like 9 years. Sigh.

But I guess I've come to a point where I don't want to count anymore. It'll take as long as it needs to. I can't hurry it up and trying to push myself forward would probably just slow it down.

I think the hardest part about it is that no one can see or objectively measure the extent of the injuries. I'm the only one who can really say how I'm feeling. Sometimes I wonder whether people secretly think I'm being a wuss or a lazy bum. I wonder that about myself even.

I think it's difficult for me to extend grace to myself.