renee on Nostr: Self-Perception to Self-Acceptance Until age 6 I didn’t know I was different. I was ...
Self-Perception to Self-Acceptance
Until age 6 I didn’t know I was different. I was born with a congenital eye defect called Coloboma, wherein a structure of the eye never forms in utero. The doctors didn’t immediately know what it was and they thought it was cancer. It was benign but it left me with little to no vision in my right eye. Albeit, this was of no loss; as I’ve never known life any other way. In addition to the Coloboma, I also have an ancillary eye condition called Strabismus; the medical term for what causes crossed eyes. In malformation, my right eye muscle was weak and thus was inverted into my nose.
Long before the days of Zoom, my grandmother who lived abroad came to visit for the very first time; she had never met me and had only seen photographs. During her visit, I overheard her and my mother speaking about my eyes and how it compared to the photographs she had seen. I went over to the mirror to understand what they were talking about and I remember, at 6 years old, looking at myself and seeing myself as defective. In that moment, I also experienced for the first time feeling judged. Experiences that are mundane to adults can have profound impact on children; this was one of them.
People have all kinds of defects but there’s something unique about the eyes; they are the first point of fixation of gaze, especially when meeting someone new for the very first time. When a gaze is met with crossed-eyes, the former becomes stymied (if even for a moment). They don’t know if you’re looking at them. They get a bit confused.
I learned early on how to narrow that momentary gap, to divert the confusion. There were a couple of coping mechanism I developed, one was to drive the moment by being extra articulate. Another tool that came later: to be very sexy. As I got older, I learned new make-up tricks, new ways to do my hair, but generally I would just opt to wear my generous cleavage out on full display. That served as a very good distraction, especially with men. Sex and smarts, total confusion.
I tried to cope in other ways too; like using muscle exercises to improve my eye strength, to “control” my eyes so one was less inverted. But as said, this required control, and if I’d have a drink, that control would go out the window. Needless to say, taking photos at parties wasn’t my favorite thing to do and my poses were always rehearsed to provide the best angle, for the best shot. I later tried new ways to conceal my insecurity. My eyes were also two different colors, so for a number of years I wore colored contact lenses to make them look more similar. It was uncomfortable, but anything to close that awkward gap with strangers.
Despite my insecurities, life carried on. Although internally I battled myself, externally, things were normal; I put my best foot forward and never shied away from anything I was determined to achieve. I dated good looking men, finished my schooling with solid grades, and upon college graduation, I interviewed for and landed my first proper job at a bank. I remember how insecure I was during the interview process! And later feeling super uncomfortable around all the new people I would meet in the office. Sexiness was not applicable at work, so I honed in on the articulate card as best I could.
Around the same time, at the age of 22, I began a new relationship with a man from a prominent New York family. I dated him for about eight months before he introduced me to his parents for the very first time. Just after that meeting my boyfriend cooled off and I could intuitively feel that something had gone awry with his parents, some kind of disapproval. After some coercion, he divulged that his parents were not happy with two things: 1. My height (5’4” on a good day, in comparison to their son at 6’4’); and 2. my crossed-eyes. It was a flashback to age 6. I was astonished. I thought we'd had a lovely time. His parents asked me about my ambitions, I told them about my career, my desire to achieve things. It turned out they were entirely unimpressed and fixated only on the small detail of how I would present at the wedding of their son. My boyfriend, on the other hand, he had a plan. He introduced the idea that I get surgery to correct the cosmetic appearance of my eyes. He even suggested that he would pay for it.
Before then I had never considered surgery. Over the years, eye doctors had recommended it to my parents, but surgery can carry a risk, there was no guarantee it would last, it was only cosmetic, and because I never brought the idea to them, they ultimately decided against it. Every year I further established my identity and the topic became less and less relevant. When the topic came back, through this painful experience, there was something about the way this was presented that I couldn’t dismiss. It was coming from my boyfriend but really it was some sort a message from the universe, and I felt inclined to explore it. I did some research, found a specialist, gathered information and after a consultation, decided that this was something that I ultimately wanted to do —for me.
With respect to my boyfriend; after he told me his parents’ concerns, I understood then that if I was to carry on with this relationship and marry into this family, much of my life would be spent putting on a show. That I would always be subservient to my husband and the whims of his parents and because I was much too independent, none of that was for me. I also didn’t want to be with somebody who saw a future with me under the condition that I would change my appearance. So before I even had the surgery, I ended the relationship. In a few months this boyfriend would go on to marry a 6’ tall blonde. My insurance would go on to cover the expense of the surgery.
One would think things changed immediately after the surgery but that’s not how dysmorphia works. I had spent 22 years developing coping mechanisms and an overcompensation strategy and those don’t get undone with surgery. There was a phase where I was this perfectly normal looking woman who was over-trying and over-sexy and it was just overly too much. I struggled to re-frame my self-awareness and this took time. Years later I began to do television interviews. I found it amusing when I received positive feedback about how I came across as confident and calm on camera. The words natural, polished, articulate, and poised frequently came up. If only the depth of irony was known –how unnatural all of that was– that these were skills I developed.
#authenticity #makingofabitcoiner #bitcoin #confidence #selflove #mentalstrength #personalgrowth
Until age 6 I didn’t know I was different. I was born with a congenital eye defect called Coloboma, wherein a structure of the eye never forms in utero. The doctors didn’t immediately know what it was and they thought it was cancer. It was benign but it left me with little to no vision in my right eye. Albeit, this was of no loss; as I’ve never known life any other way. In addition to the Coloboma, I also have an ancillary eye condition called Strabismus; the medical term for what causes crossed eyes. In malformation, my right eye muscle was weak and thus was inverted into my nose.
Long before the days of Zoom, my grandmother who lived abroad came to visit for the very first time; she had never met me and had only seen photographs. During her visit, I overheard her and my mother speaking about my eyes and how it compared to the photographs she had seen. I went over to the mirror to understand what they were talking about and I remember, at 6 years old, looking at myself and seeing myself as defective. In that moment, I also experienced for the first time feeling judged. Experiences that are mundane to adults can have profound impact on children; this was one of them.
People have all kinds of defects but there’s something unique about the eyes; they are the first point of fixation of gaze, especially when meeting someone new for the very first time. When a gaze is met with crossed-eyes, the former becomes stymied (if even for a moment). They don’t know if you’re looking at them. They get a bit confused.
I learned early on how to narrow that momentary gap, to divert the confusion. There were a couple of coping mechanism I developed, one was to drive the moment by being extra articulate. Another tool that came later: to be very sexy. As I got older, I learned new make-up tricks, new ways to do my hair, but generally I would just opt to wear my generous cleavage out on full display. That served as a very good distraction, especially with men. Sex and smarts, total confusion.
I tried to cope in other ways too; like using muscle exercises to improve my eye strength, to “control” my eyes so one was less inverted. But as said, this required control, and if I’d have a drink, that control would go out the window. Needless to say, taking photos at parties wasn’t my favorite thing to do and my poses were always rehearsed to provide the best angle, for the best shot. I later tried new ways to conceal my insecurity. My eyes were also two different colors, so for a number of years I wore colored contact lenses to make them look more similar. It was uncomfortable, but anything to close that awkward gap with strangers.
Despite my insecurities, life carried on. Although internally I battled myself, externally, things were normal; I put my best foot forward and never shied away from anything I was determined to achieve. I dated good looking men, finished my schooling with solid grades, and upon college graduation, I interviewed for and landed my first proper job at a bank. I remember how insecure I was during the interview process! And later feeling super uncomfortable around all the new people I would meet in the office. Sexiness was not applicable at work, so I honed in on the articulate card as best I could.
Around the same time, at the age of 22, I began a new relationship with a man from a prominent New York family. I dated him for about eight months before he introduced me to his parents for the very first time. Just after that meeting my boyfriend cooled off and I could intuitively feel that something had gone awry with his parents, some kind of disapproval. After some coercion, he divulged that his parents were not happy with two things: 1. My height (5’4” on a good day, in comparison to their son at 6’4’); and 2. my crossed-eyes. It was a flashback to age 6. I was astonished. I thought we'd had a lovely time. His parents asked me about my ambitions, I told them about my career, my desire to achieve things. It turned out they were entirely unimpressed and fixated only on the small detail of how I would present at the wedding of their son. My boyfriend, on the other hand, he had a plan. He introduced the idea that I get surgery to correct the cosmetic appearance of my eyes. He even suggested that he would pay for it.
Before then I had never considered surgery. Over the years, eye doctors had recommended it to my parents, but surgery can carry a risk, there was no guarantee it would last, it was only cosmetic, and because I never brought the idea to them, they ultimately decided against it. Every year I further established my identity and the topic became less and less relevant. When the topic came back, through this painful experience, there was something about the way this was presented that I couldn’t dismiss. It was coming from my boyfriend but really it was some sort a message from the universe, and I felt inclined to explore it. I did some research, found a specialist, gathered information and after a consultation, decided that this was something that I ultimately wanted to do —for me.
With respect to my boyfriend; after he told me his parents’ concerns, I understood then that if I was to carry on with this relationship and marry into this family, much of my life would be spent putting on a show. That I would always be subservient to my husband and the whims of his parents and because I was much too independent, none of that was for me. I also didn’t want to be with somebody who saw a future with me under the condition that I would change my appearance. So before I even had the surgery, I ended the relationship. In a few months this boyfriend would go on to marry a 6’ tall blonde. My insurance would go on to cover the expense of the surgery.
One would think things changed immediately after the surgery but that’s not how dysmorphia works. I had spent 22 years developing coping mechanisms and an overcompensation strategy and those don’t get undone with surgery. There was a phase where I was this perfectly normal looking woman who was over-trying and over-sexy and it was just overly too much. I struggled to re-frame my self-awareness and this took time. Years later I began to do television interviews. I found it amusing when I received positive feedback about how I came across as confident and calm on camera. The words natural, polished, articulate, and poised frequently came up. If only the depth of irony was known –how unnatural all of that was– that these were skills I developed.
#authenticity #makingofabitcoiner #bitcoin #confidence #selflove #mentalstrength #personalgrowth