YouAreWhatYouLove•Vaishali 
Me, Myself & Eye
Me, Myself & Eye
| Me, Myself & Eye |
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| Post by Vaishali | |||
| Sunday, 13 September 2009 10:41 | |||
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Me, Myself & Eye I was born with a very large cataract in the left eye and a syndrome that only occurs in female children. It caused the left eye to turn inward and to the right. The left eye would pull toward the nose in such an exaggerated manner that the pupil and iris could not be seen, leaving me with a quite decidedly one-eyed look. My family never made fun of me. They never commented on the birth de-fect affecting my left eye. So when I started kindergarten, my first introduc-tion into the “outside world,” I was surprised and woefully unprepared. I was completely taken aback when the other children would look at me, scream and run away. I had no idea my schoolmates would respond so violently to a condition I only thought about when I had to go for an eye examination. My parents had taken me in for cosmetic surgery several times since I was an infant in an attempt to correct the problem. Although the surgeries went well, the doctors fully expected that I would require another round of corrective surgical procedures by the time I hit puberty. The doctors had done the best they could, but the correction would not be complete until my body stopped developing and muscle growth had stabilized. The bottom line was that I was stuck with this defect until my early twenties. My social life was swirling down the drain, and I didn’t even know it. At the tender age of five, I had no concept that my face looked dramatically different from others even with the one eye turned grossly inwards. I did not know how to respond to the other children’s reactions of calling me a “monster” and “cyclops.” As I progressed through school, to say that things didn’t get any better would be an understatement. In my elementary years I remember running home after school as fast as I could to outrun the other kids who were throwing rocks at me yelling, “Kill the freak, kill the freak!” One day, after a particularly challenging stoning episode, I stood and stared at my face in the mirror. I just could not understand it. As far as I was concerned I still looked the same as I did before I became “the monster” to these other children. I just could not wrap my mind around what the other children found so horrible about my eye. Why did it seem to make me subhuman from their perspective? In the small town where I grew up, as with all small towns, once you are given a label, it is yours to cherish for a lifetime, or at least for what seemed that long. My nickname all through middle school and high school was “cyclops.” Although the situation was gradually correcting itself as I got older, it was still highly visible. Visible enough that it was the first thing people noticed when they looked at me. I remember once in junior high school running and hiding in a stranger’s garage to get away from two boys who were chasing me, determined to gouge out the offensive eye with a sharp stick. Looking different was not only socially detrimental, but also a genuine threat to my physical well-being! It was not until I went off to college that I was finally free of the town “freak” stigma. Even today, if you know what to look for, you can still see remnants of the irregular left eye movement. It had taken me nearly twenty years, but now it was no longer an issue that poisoned every relationship I attempted to cultivate. At last I was gaining some distance from the emphasis on being “defective,” and I was starting to appreciate the level and quality of self-development and self-acceptance this one-eyed look imposed upon my life. I was a very private child. I spent a great deal of time playing by myself and developed a very healthy and strong sense of independence. I learned to value, respect and honor my relationship with myself. I focused on hobbies that cultivated and fostered my creativity. I was comfortable within my own skin and with my own companionship. I knew who I was, even if every last person on the planet wanted to stone me for being a freak. I knew I was a good, loving and very intelligent person. I was okay with myself, even if no one around me could validate or embrace that level of open, honest accep-tance. My appreciation for this unusual character building birth defect hit an inadvertent epiphany one evening. The actor William Windom was performing a one-man play of James Thurber writings. I paid an additional sum of money to attend an event after the performance where people could meet the actor and ask him questions. I recall there being a long line. I patiently waited my turn to speak with Mr. Windom, when a tall very attractive blonde woman stepped right in front of me as if I was not there, and asked if Windom had any opinion as to why James Thurber was such a brilliant writer. Once again I felt eclipsed by the pretty girl that everyone wanted to talk to and befriend. What William Windom uttered next both shocked and healed me. “Thurber was such a creative writer, because he was born blind in one eye. He was a freak, and his childhood was so painful he developed himself and his imagination in a way most people are never forced to,” Windom explained. Confirmation at last! Yes, this has provided me with an inner strengthening and self-knowing…I knew it! “Are all people who are born blind in one eye ‘freaks’?” I asked Windom, elbowing my way around the rude, buxom blonde. “Do you know any who are not?” He answered. “No,” I thought to myself, “I don’t.” “I was born blind in one eye,” I stammered aloud. Windom turned beet red and was clearly embarrassed to have said something he felt I might have taken as offensive. Of course this poor man had no way of knowing he was talking to the only “born blind in one eye” person within a ten thousand mile radius. And strangely enough, I felt deeply comforted. Validated at last, albeit a bit circuitously, the feeling inside me was sweet and had a deliciously victorious quality about it. Being a writer myself, I am thrilled to no end to share the same creative, self-integrative path with the likes of James Thurber. We both learned to find our own voice, to channel our inner wisdom in an outward expression that we could share whole-heartedly and creatively with others. There is a security within ourselves, about who we are, that was hard won and relent-lessly tempered by life. Those early years were very challenging - not experiences I would wish to repeat. Yet at the same time, I would not change them even if I could. I have learned how to see the real me. I have learned to grow beyond, where others cannot see me at all. I have reached within myself and found a woman of depth, character, sensitivity and wisdom. I have had a lifetime of practice accepting myself, flaws and all. I have learned to embrace and love my inner “freak.” This cyclops has become a person of self-knowledge and entrenched self-confidence, immune to the poison of the slings and ar-rows (and rocks) of outrageous fortune and the erosion of toxic judgments. What I considered an aesthetic liability growing up, not to mention a social death sentence, actually turned out to be my greatest developmental asset. Today I teach workshops at the most prestigious retreat centers in the world, and I am a syndicated radio show host with a call-in program where listeners ask for guidance and clarity in their personal lives. I love having a life of service, helping others to overcome obstacles that are limiting their growth and personal happiness. This birth defective, along with other life challenges, has provided me with the best “on the job” training available, giving me the innate ability to extend compassion, support and sage advice to others. I have the talent and wisdom to empower my audiences to change their perspective and reframe their lives, allowing them to deal, in a healthy manner, with whatever surprises life throws their way. Whenever I’m out and about and encounter other women in the flow of my everyday life, whether I’m traveling, standing in the line at the bank or cruising the isles of the grocery store, I pass out “Beyond Karma Queen” stickers. When ladies ask me what that means, I always answer, “Instead of trying to decide if the amount of cellulite you have is good or bad, wouldn’t you rather just be beyond it?” I no longer try to figure out if the pain of being different is good or bad. Instead, I simply choose to just grow beyond the suffering imbedded within it. At this point in my life, nearly fifty years later, I see these earlier traumatizing events as the catalytic influences that have allowed me to claim my “Beyond Karma Queen” status. The cyclops, at long last, has gained authentic, life enhancing second sight. About Vaishali: As on Oprah & Friends XM, Vaishali is the author of Wisdom Rising (Purple Haze Press 2008) and You Are What You Love (Purple Haze Press 2006). She is also national health & wellness speaker, radio host on KTLK 1150am 11-noon Sundays (greater Los Angeles) and KEST (San Francisco). Vaishali is a certified practitioner of Chinese Medicine and East Indian Ayurveda medicine. Vai-shali is a faculty member of The Omega institute and The Kripalu Center. Her articles have been published in over a hundred publications worldwide. Visit www.purplev.com or email This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it
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