NINETEEN YEARS AGO TODAY…

I Became Blind

Nineteen years ago today, I took one last look around the Children’s Hospital with blurry vision.

I saw my family, together with the ophthalmologist, holding hands in a circle as we prayed for what was about to happen.

Nineteen years ago today, my Daddy carried me into the operating room and laid me down on the operating table.

And I smelled the watermelon scent that always lulled me to a blissful, dreamless sleep.

Nineteen years ago today, I became fully blind.

And nineteen years ago today, I became cancer-free.


This day goes by several names—my blindaversary, my blind birthday, Classy Glassy Day, but no matter what I call it, it will always be a day that I celebrate.

Yes, it’s the day that I became blind. It’s also the day my little body was free of the retinoblastoma. But this day acts as a marker for much more than that.

It reminds me how far I’ve come.

It reminds me of what my family and I went through, because cancer and blindness isn’t just my story—it’s theirs, too.

It reminds me that everyone who has a disability has a story, and each of those stories are unique and worthy.

It also teaches me things that I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

It taught me the value of my health, and how nothing in this life can be taken for granted.

It taught me to be thankful for what I have, and who I have.

It taught me that my story has shaped me for the better, that I wouldn’t be who I am without having experienced what I did.

And it taught me that God is here through pain and suffering, and sometimes, it’s through those times that He’s the most visible.

So, happy Blindaversary to… me! I’m excited for what the next year will hold. How will I grow? How will God shape me into the person He wants me to become? I’m excited to find out.

Oh, and I forgot to mention one thing that this day always reminds me to be thankful for:

It isn’t the end of my story.

2021 REFLECTIONS

I have never been, and never will be, a party girl. In high school and college, while tolerating the celebrations echoing across the city, I sat outside on the porch swing, basking in the cool, fresh breeze of the new year and the glimpses of silence caught between fire crackers.

It’s my favourite moment of the year. Not because I’m a keen celebrator of New Year’s—in fact, the holiday is one I don’t much appreciate and could quite happily do without—but because for a moment, I can be quiet and reflect on the blessings and trials of another year.

The Island Calls

On a walk around the pond last December, while temporarily moved into my parents’ house, I announced to my dad that I wanted to move to a new city in the new year. I budgeted, I wrote lists, and one month later, with my parents’ love, support and packing expertise, I moved into my first above-ground suite and basked in the winter sunlight streaming in through the living room windows.

I learned my routes to the beach, the coffee shop and thoroughly enjoyed the abundance of thrift shops at my fingertips. My dream had come true, and it felt amazing, particularly when I breathed in the scent of salty ocean air. I was home.

cricket’s Chapter

But a few months after settling into my new environs, I came face-to-face with a reality I hoped wouldn’t come for many more years. I wrote the story in a post for my friend, Anneliese’s blog, and please feel free to read it to get the whole story. But on April 23, 2021, I made the decision to retire my first guide dog, Cricket. He was only three years old and many a trainer and fellow guide dog handler said he wasn’t ready to retire. But after several weeks of Cricket refusing his guidework commands and thus, placing me in dangerous situations (i.e. in the middle of crosswalks), I had no choice.

I reverted back to using a white cane, though not very successfully. Two years of working with a guide dog left me longing for the harness and the confidence that Cricket had provided when out and about in the community. So I applied to three guide dog schools and waited to be matched with my second guide dog.

Cricket stayed with me as a retired guide until August when I was able to travel to Michigan to deliver him home to his puppy raiser turned mom. It was bittersweet, watching him recognize the house, his doggy sister, Willow, and bond with his raiser. I felt sad for myself, but happy for him, and so I left Cricket in his new home with a floppy ear drenched in my tears and came home to Canada. Now, with the friendship I’ve developed with his mom, I couldn’t be happier or more thankful for the way God arranged everything.

Meeting The Mr., Soon To Be The Mrs.

On June 16, I met a man. On June 17, I kissed that man. And four months later, when that man asked me to marry him, I said yes!

Since I can remember, I’ve wanted to be three things: a writer, a wife, and a mom. And I don’t think anyone, me least of all, saw that second one coming this year, or this quickly.

But I couldn’t be more excited or more thankful. My fiancé is a man of God, loves to hug, is devoutly loyal to his family and loves me unconditionally. We’ve set a wedding date for spring 2022 and are over the moon to begin a married life together. It’s a blessing beyond what I could have hoped for.

And don’t you worry—you’ll get wedding updates!

The Saint and I

With Cricket retiring in May, I didn’t know how long it would be until I would snuggle my new guide dog. But I tried to reconcile the very real fact that it could be close to a year.

But the call came sooner than I expected and I was overwhelmed in the absolute best way. I was chatting with the ladies at the jewelry counter about my wedding ring at the tail end of October when I got the call. They had a dog for me and wanted me in Oregon at Guide Dogs for the Blind to train in THREE WEEKS!

And when Saint came wiggling into my world, I was immediately in love. He was everything I wanted—a boy, a yellow lab and a whirlwind of energy. We trained for two weeks and then came home to begin our new life together. And I couldn’t be more happy, and I don’t think Saint could wag his tail any harder!

The Sad Stuff

As a self-proclaimed pessimist (or realist, if you prefer), I can’t go on without addressing the challenges that the year has brought.

The Covid-19 pandemic has brought many challenges, and a very personal one I’ve experienced is the struggle of friends who disagree on the vaccine. In the summer, I ended a friendship with someone I was extremely close to because of our differing views; it was very clear that our priorities were pulling us in opposite directions.

And in the fall, another friendship that had been touch-and-go for almost two years, ended yet again. While I will not share details for her privacy and mine, I will say that neither of us are innocent, neither of us are to blame completely and both of us have more growing to do and I believe it’s healthier to do it separately. All I hope, in the silence that’s replaced our friendship, is that we can forgive each other and not hold onto the anger. That isn’t the person I want to be, and it isn’t the person I want her to remember, even though that may very well be the case.

Ending friendships hurts. That’s the hard and simple truth. And it’ll take a long time to be okay and look back on those relationships with fondness and not bitterness and anger. Because… I am angry. So angry. And I’ll only get there with the help of Jesus.

Blog Or Not, Here I Come!

But 2021 is also the year that I fulfilled one of my deepest dreams.

I became a blogger.

Not Your Blind Writer started out of a love of writing and a desire to use my voice to normalize disability by sharing my life as a blind woman and writer. Whether that has been accomplished is up to you, my readers, but all I know is that whether anyone continues to read my words or not, I will always continue to write. I feel the call to be a writer in my soul, and nothing will change that.


A fiancé, a guide dog and a blog… oh my!

It hasn’t been the easiest of years, and there will never be a year that is free of struggle. But in the midst of mine, I know I am incredibly blessed. My year began with a move to where my heart has wanted to be for a long time, and it’s ending with Saint guiding me, my fiancé holding my hand, my family and friends surrounding me, and my God clearing the path ahead. And that’s more than enough for me.

So if you’re celebrating with fire crackers, then HAPPY NEW YEAR and go crazy (but safely, please)! And if you’re like me and just like taking a quiet minute to think and reflect on the year that’s ending and the one that’s beginning, take one of those minutes to say thank you. Thank your people for being there for you and that you’ve lived to see another year of adventures.

Happy 2022!