What others see...

Have you ever questioned everything at the opticians?

Photo by Elle Hughes on Unsplash

I go to bed early. Like, between 8pm and 10pm early. I try to read for a bit but mostly I just like to lie, my eyes shut, letting my day dart across my closed lids. The internet feels like it’s piercing through the skin, sometimes, an invisible finger moving my eyeballs back-and-forth, back-and-forth, back-and-forth.

I thought this was just… modern living. Until one morning I found that the early January, glaring white light had infiltrated my brain, compressing and holding pain deep within it. I decided that maybe I should get my eyes tested.

In the opticians I had an epiphany. Maybe epiphany is too grand a word. I had a… realisation. Straight after I left, I voice-noted my friend about it, a rambling, incoherent message as the cars, and people, of Oxford Circus rushed past me. Later, she replied: “OH MY GOD, I HAD THAT EXACT SAME THOUGHT WHILE IN THE OPTICIANS.”

I also posted on my Instagram Stories (blue-light be damned, I’m an addict) asking whether anyone found their most pathetic, people pleasing side emerges at the opticians. I had found myself, reciting all those letters, desperate for the man to tell me I had done a good job. Turns out, this is common! Someone even told me they messed up their prescription in their need to be seen as ‘good’.

After the opticians I went to a café and wrote about my realisation. I love observational, simple writing (forever inspired by Deborah Levy) so I decided to try it. It was meant to remain in my notebook, but after I realised that lots of us are learning lessons in the opticians’ chair, I’ve decided to share it but (oh this feels scary) only with my paid subscribers.

I struggle (as I think many of us do) with valuing myself and valuing my work yet, at the same time, I also so want to be able to pay the contributors who share their stories with me. I value their words, I value their work but not my own. I have to try. I’ve also had a few more paid subscribers recently which means so much to me that when I get the emails through saying so I… hide my phone! I go into an odd denial where I worry I’m not worth it and pretend it isn’t happening. I can’t keep doing this. It’s odd behaviour.

Particularly because I do have lots planned for paid subscribers, including writing workshops (guided by what people want from me, I have a range of different writing experience, from journalism to poetry, so please message if interested) and releasing chapters of my first novel, one that encapsulates much of what we talk about on here. It follows a toxic friendship that unfolds in the wake of grief (you can read more about it here).

Then there’s these things, which I’ve called Crocuses in Chaos, and, quite simply they’re just extra bits of my writing that don’t quite fit under the category of grief. They will consists of musings/short stories/things I’ve read and listened to and thought of… I’ll even research and write about things you want to read about (I once wrote a poem for my sister based on a Sarah and Duck episode, it was fun)

Mostly, becoming a paid subscriber supports my work, and helps me to keep the writing and research about grief free for all who needs it, but I also think it’s important as well as valuing my own writing, I value those who pay, with these little extras. I hope you like them!

Have a lovely day! And remember, you don’t owe your optician your best side! You’re amazing as you are!

PS: I just realised I typed this whole thing without wearing my glasses. Oops.