My Not so Secret… Secret

Today, I got a question regarding something people out in the ‘verse’ may not know.

I was born with a congenital condition called Optic Nerve Hypoplasia (ONH).

I know, boring right?

Basically, it means my optic nerve is underdeveloped. The side effect, I’m classified as legally blind.

People often ask me what I can see? How do I see? Oh, and my favorite, do I drive?

My answers to those questions vary, depending on how in depth an answer the asker wants. Well, except the driving part. I always answer, “I don’t know, I haven’t tried it yet. Can I borrow your car?”

I think I’m funnier than I actually am. At least I entertain myself.

The short version of how my vision works is that I have to get super close to things, I don’t see colors, and I can’t adjust to bright lights.

I actually forget that blind because I’ve adapted to my condition. There isn’t much I can’t do or won’t attempt to do. I’d say within limits, but I don’t pay attention to limits anyway.

There are times I’m envious of other people’s independence. Driving is an amazing privilege. However, my visual limits don’t bother me for very long because what I can’t see, my imagination fills in for me.

On any given day, I think I see trolls, dragons, weird skeletal birds… I’ve even seen a storm trooper holding balloons in front of a sandwich shop.

Normal sighted people have no idea what they’re missing. There is some crazy stuff out there.

Although, I think this is why I love books. They give me visions into worlds I can’t see. I would say this is probably why I’m a writer, but I think I would be a writer regardless. An overactive imagination is a beautiful, wonderful, and distracting gift.

I will be honest, because of my vision, grammar does not work for me. I hear things differently than I see them and the rules don’t make sense. God bless you grammar fanatics because us mere mortals would completely butcher the English language on paper anyway.

So that’s my not so secret, secret. It’s nothing risque like having a harem of men stashed in my closet. I mean I wish, but I’m not that cool.

Who am I?
I’m Tiffany Easterling, seer of trolls and dragons.