I try to take advantage of activities that allow me to deconstruct and assess my understanding of self. Most recently, I was asked by a friend if I’d be willing for a character profile documentary for their film class project to focus on me and a little of my story. I immediately hopped on the opportunity because I try to cultivate and use my voice in as many ways as I can. Through the process, I learned that I took one of the biggest events of my life for granted — and not just for granted in the traditional sense of not being thankful for what transpired but for not giving it enough value and truly understanding how it brought me to where I am today. 

In almost every picture of me when I was younger, my head was tilted to the side. I wrote my numbers and letters upside down and backward, so they thought I was dyslexic. But then I had a vision eye test conducted, and my eye was particularly lazy. I was tilting my head to compensate for a condition I had called Brown’s syndrome, a diagnosis that I got when I was about 5 years old. Brown’s syndrome is a rare eye condition where there is a defect in eye movement, due to abnormalities with the tendon sheath of the superior oblique muscle. At 6 years old I was told that I would need a series of corrective surgeries for the rest of my life to allow complete free movement of my eyes, and so the surgeries began but then something happened…

I would travel to Puerto Rico, when I was 6, 8, and then 10 years old to undergo the same routine. Surgery. Keep my eye closed for a couple weeks. Open my eyes to take my eye drops. And then wear an eye patch to protect my eye from UV light for the weeks following. This was an anxiety-provoking time for my parents because there was never a guarantee that when I took off that eye patch that the surgery would prove successful. There was always a chance that the condition would reoccur. First, it was my right eye, and then my right eye again. And then it was my left eye that needed the same procedure to account for the extra strain it had to do while the right eye was healing. I was told that due to the number of surgeries I had, I would probably need glasses sometime soon later down the road. I remember being told that someone with my condition had the surgery countless times into her 20’s. 

I am 21 years old, and I haven’t titled my head since. I haven’t had to wear an eye patch since and I haven’t had to face the things that come with wearing an eye patch since — but that also means I haven’t really had to think about this point of my life. Wearing an eye patch at 8 years old, meant being called a pirate and being teased. It meant being tripped in hallways and constantly being made fun of. Some days my mother literally had to force me to wear that black eye patch, because at that age what people said about me was more daunting to me than risking my eyes from healing properly. 

The lack of confidence and shame that once surrounded me wearing an eye patch and being teased has metamorphosed into a confidence that has produced a relentless work ethic and an ever-evolving sense of self. I am so grateful that God blessed me with the ability to see and experience the world, but I am especially grateful that I am finally understanding what that pivotal point of my life taught me. I am eternally grateful for the support of family, and a mother who did not take no as an answer. As an aspiring physician, I hope one day to use this newly developed sense of confidence to advocate for my patients the way my mother advocated for me. 

Being thankful is important, but take the time to look into yourself and analyze how events have made you who you are — so that you can give those events their value. How much value you give those events are relative. The goal should be to not take anything for granted, by constantly remaining conscious. I’m proud to share that my head is no longer tilting in more ways than one.