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For Macular Degenerates |
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My independent spirit was confident this treacherous road could be walked alone. On the other hand, I felt like a wounded animal searching for a refuge to lick my wounds, a safe haven from prying eyes.
Imagine that you are aboard a spaceship, a bubble of isolation, spending your days hovering over a seemingly empty landscape. All you can see are aimless, lonely roads leading absolutely nowhere. You sense that these paths should be used, and you feel that something is very wrong. You ask yourself, "Why? Why is this so? " You veer your craft in all directions searching for signs of life. You peer in wonderment. You cannot believe such a desert of emptiness, such roads of nothingness. You know in your heart that something is missing with this image of isolation.Then slowly, but surely, it hits you! People complete a photograph! There are no people living or moving in this world you used to know so well. Has everybody fled? Where are they all hiding?
At last, you spy a familiar stretch of this road. Should you take a chance and land your ship? You could come down, but you wonder if it's safe. You wonder if it's wrong. You wonder if, by any chance, someone is walking around. Your instincts say it's risky, and you worry about what kind of humans now inhabit this patch of ground.You decide to be brave and set your craft down. Then you step out, shivering with strange eerie feelings enveloping your whole being. Fear takes over, and you do not know why. You start with a few hesitant steps, and then you see, all at once, four stepping stones in the middle of the road. You then wonder out loud, "Why do they look familiar? What are they there for?"
Intrigued, you approach the first stone and you pick it up with trembling hands, placing it close to your diminished eyes, finally managing to read the message. "Denial must be overcome before you can move on. You ask yourself, "Why was the loss of one eye so traumatic? Was I really always so dependent upon two? How could I work this problem through."
Wishing that hope could be found, you take your courage in hand and pick up the second stone. Its message is harsher, and you read, "Anger must be overcome before you can move on." Again you ask , "Why am I so furious at my right eye's death? Is this bitter resentment really just over a central bit of destruction? How could I work this problem through?"
You pick up the third stone, not wanting to at all. You know what it says before you could even think of moving on. You cry as you read the message, Sadness, because you find it so depressing to lose part of the you that you depended upon for so many years. "Why must I change from the person I was? I was all right then, but who will I be now?"
You then moved on to the last and final stone, fear and trepidation zinging throughout your weary bones. Suddenly, in the distance you can perceive some warm, sensitive, caring attitudes eerily swirling around in a mist before you. It is then that you see a Circle of Friends moving forward, reaching out to you, and finally, with linked hands, forming a kind of halo around you. "We've been waiting patiently for you . What took you so long?" Now you can see them more clearly, these important people in your life until now, so at last you are ready to ask the question which you have been so stubbornly avoiding, "CAN YOU HELP ME, PLEASE?"
They respond in unison, "Why have you not picked up the fourth stone?" Because, you answer, "It is too difficult. My fear is too great."
They ask, "But how can we help you if you cannot do what you must?"
You decide that it is time to make a bargain with yourself. You will work harder to overcome your resistance to the first three stones. Then, and only then, can you truly ask your friends, "Would you please help me lift this very heavy fourth stone with it's message of Acceptance?"
Look at this Circle of Friends as another Jolt of Hope. They will make acceptance possible for you if you have the courage to lift that final stone to finally make yourself acceptable to others who cross your own road of life.