Still seeing in the dark.

☕️ Morning Coffee Reflections 🎶 This morning, as I sat with my coffee and the sweet music filling the room, my heart felt just as colorful as what I’ve been seeing inside all week. Orange bursts, streaked with yellow, blending into a glowing reddish-orange — that’s what my happiness looks like. On Thursday, when I first got the call from my counselor at Bobby Dodd Institute, I was resting in bed. The news came like sunshine through a cloudy sky: DBHDD approved $1,500 for my hearing aids. Hearing aids have been my top priority, and to finally hear “yes” after waiting, praying, and hoping filled me with so much joy that the colors haven’t stopped dancing since. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been managing cramps or pushing through the ache in my tooth — this good news is stronger than all of that. Even while lying down, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing what this means for my future. I’ve shared laughs and encouragement through emails and voice clips with my best friend, Jenna, who’s...

☕️ Morning Thoughts Over Coffee 🎶 Every morning starts the same for me — a hot cup of coffee, the sweet ballads playing softly in the background, and my conversations with my best friend, Jenna Hildebrand. We talk through emails, voice clips on Messenger, and in our group chats. That’s part of my peaceful routine. But not everything has been peaceful lately. I realized Pam was still not blocked on my Facebook, and both she and Adam have been trying to reach me on Messenger — even calling me. I ignored them, and when she asked me to call her back, I still didn’t answer. Eventually, I blocked her because she had accused my best friend Jenna of sending nasty pictures to a man named Randy Lyons. As a disability advocate, I know better than to get caught up in drama. That’s not my purpose, and it’s not where my energy belongs. I have more important things to focus on — like my family, my faith, and my nephew. And that brings me to something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately. When ...

  Afternoon to Early Evening Reflection This afternoon, I felt a little weak, so I laid down for a while, listening to my stories on Modezzy. After that, I put on a little I Love Lucy on my Pluto TV app. While I was relaxing, my inner sight began something new— a yellow background with colorful sparks jumping around like sequins on a formal gown. Yellow, blue, white, orange, red, and green all sparkled together against that golden backdrop. It made me feel so good—such a joy to experience as a blind person. I also got some rest, which was much needed. Earlier, I’d enjoyed leftover shepherd’s pie for lunch, so my stomach was full and happy. All in all, I was a happy camper!

Over the past few weeks, creating Reels for my disability advocacy page has become more than just a hobby — it’s a part of my daily rhythm. Here are five reasons I love making them: 1. They’re short but powerful. Even in 15–30 seconds, you can share something that stays with someone all day. A smile, a verse, a kind word — sometimes less really is more. 2. They let me share my heart. Whether it’s scripture from my grandmother, a moment of morning coffee, or a thought about kindness, each Reel is a little piece of me sent out into the world. 3. They connect me with new people. It’s amazing how many friendships start with just one video. Someone might watch a Reel, leave a comment, and suddenly we’re having a real conversation. 4. They’re creative and fun. Picking music, choosing visuals, and deciding how to share a message keeps things fresh. It’s a chance to be artistic while staying true to my voice. 5. They spread light in small doses. Not everyone has time for a long post,...

If you’ve been following along on my disability advocacy page, you’ve probably noticed I’ve been sharing more Reels lately. They’ve become one of my favorite ways to connect with people — not just because they’re short and easy to watch, but because they’re a window into my world. Some Reels are simple, like me greeting everyone with a cheerful “Good morning” over my coffee, or sharing a peaceful moment with music playing in the background. Others carry something deeper — a scripture my grandmother has shared with our family, an encouraging thought for someone having a hard day, or a reminder to see the beauty in the small things. When I make a Reel, it’s not just about putting something on the screen. I think about how it will feel to the person watching. Will it make them smile? Will it give them comfort? Will it let them know they’re not alone? Sometimes the words are the heart of it, and sometimes the music carries the message all on its own. I’ve found that Reels are a great wa...

Good afternoon, dear friends. Today has been one of those slow, gentle mornings that I truly treasure. I woke up feeling calm, rested, and content. I spent most of the morning listening to stories on my phone, drifting in and out of little naps. It was peaceful — the kind of quiet rest that lets your mind wander and your heart settle. Before my mom left for work, we had our usual coffee time together with my stepdad. The music was soft and sweet in the background as we talked about small things, laughed about little moments, and simply enjoyed being together. Those times, even if they seem ordinary, are the kind of memories that stay with me. On top of that, I’ve been keeping up with my disability advocacy work. Lately, I’ve been posting more Reels — sometimes sharing scripture my grandmother passes along, other times capturing my coffee-time greetings or simple daily reflections. My goal is always to connect, to spread awareness, and to give encouragement in the middle of someone’s...

✨ When Clarity Burns Right now, I’m seeing something I can’t quite explain — a bright white light that carries heat with it. Not just a glow. Not just brightness. It’s intense. It’s alive. It almost burns. My eyes are feeling hot. Not in pain, but in pressure. It’s as if the light itself is touching me , not just lighting up the space around me. Sometimes light comes to comfort. But sometimes — like now — it comes with a kind of fire . 🔥 What Is This Light? Is it revelation? Is it purification? Is it a sign that something unseen is closer than I realize ? I don’t know. But I’m feeling it deeply. This isn’t a soft, golden, morning kind of light. This is the kind of light that makes you stop. Pause. Look inward. It’s not cold or distant. It’s not artificial. It’s pure . It’s pressing . And maybe that’s what I needed. 🌫️ Light Isn’t Always Easy We often talk about walking toward the light. But what happens when the light finds you — and it’s almost too much...

🌊 Treading Water — In My Hearing, In My Heart I sat with a quiet question this week: “Am I treading water in any part of my life?” At first, I couldn’t think of anything. My page is growing, my mornings are peaceful, my GoFundMe is slowly climbing, and I’ve been surrounded by music, coffee, and a sense of calm. It felt like I had finally reached a space of rest — and in many ways, I have. But as I sat longer with that question, I realized something: Just because life is moving forward doesn’t mean there aren’t parts of it where I’m still treading water. 🦻🏽The Hearing Aid Battle: One Ear at a Time Right now, I’m struggling to hear — literally. I’ve been using one working hearing aid , while the other one has completely stopped. Hearing has become an everyday challenge, and help didn’t come easily. The costs, the appointments, the long silences between calls — it’s been a slow climb. But then, we found Hear USA — and they were a blessing. The kindest people I’ve met in thi...

Whew! After the kind of day I had, I needed to lay down and just be for a moment. Not because I was completely tired, but because I’ve been doing so much and giving so much of myself. Sometimes a quick recharge is all it takes. Just me, my phone, something peaceful playing, and my thoughts winding down from a long, full day. Today I helped take care of my grandma—bringing her dishes out to the dishwasher, clearing out the bottles and cans, getting her drinks and opening them up for her when she needed it. It’s something small, but it matters. She’s always done so much for all of us. And then there was dinner, starting up the dishwasher, answering emails, helping folks who reached out to me privately, staying in touch with people I care about, and even sending Jenna Hildebrand a long-overdue message to thank her for the beautiful photos she sent. I told her I saved them on my phone—they’re that special. Now, here I am. Reflecting. Unwinding. Letting myself breathe a bit. Because no...

 Lately, there’s been a shift — not just in my heart, but in the atmosphere around me. After sending that follow-up email to Jenna, I could feel something spiritual moving . It wasn’t just emotional release — it was healing in motion. I saw it. The colors around this moment… A very light yellowish green , soft and gentle. Yellow stringers flowing through, moving about. It felt like peace was finally arriving , threading its way through the places where confusion, pain, and silence used to live. When Jenna told me she had been waiting for me, that she never gave up on me — my spirit stood still. I remembered how many times I ran back to people who hurt me. Pam, Adam, and the ones who took their side — they used me, tossed me aside, ratted me out, blocked me, and broke my trust again and again. And each time that happened… I found myself calling Jenna. Yet when things got rocky between us — and honestly, they were never as bad as I thought — I would go back to the ones who we...

Today, I want to share something deeply personal that happened — something that touched my heart and reminded me that forgiveness, when led by sincerity, can truly begin to heal wounds. Earlier, I received a heartfelt email from someone I once called my sister — Jenna Hildebrand. After a long time of silence, confusion, and distance between us, she reached out with love, vulnerability, and honesty. She told me she had been thinking of me, praying for me, and still loved me like a sister despite everything that had happened. She even admitted she didn’t remember everything she wanted to say, but that she was reaching out hoping for forgiveness and reconnection. Her words made me reflect deeply, especially after all the pain I experienced with Pam. That situation left me feeling lost, hurt, and unsure of who was truly for me. Jenna mentioned she believed I had been "brainwashed" by Pam — I don’t know if I’d use that word, but I do know I was deeply hurt and pulled into somet...

Title: Tracking Down My Dreams Today, something grabbed my attention in one of the disability groups I follow on Facebook. It was a post that talked about tracking down your dreams . Not chasing them. Not rushing them. But tracking them — like you would gently follow footprints in the sand. That stopped me right in my tracks. Because I had never really thought of dreams in that way before. I’ve written about my thoughts, my reflections, even my challenges — but what about my dreams ? Not just the ones I have while I sleep, but the ones that quietly live inside me, waiting to be remembered? Reading that post made me realize something: I’ve never tried to track my dreams. But I want to start now. I want to start noticing the dreams that stir in me — the ones I had when I was younger, the ones I’ve picked up along the way, and even the ones I forgot I wanted. I want to give them space to show up. To stretch. To be heard. So I’m beginning something new: A simple practice I’m call...

Lately, I’ve noticed something… different. Something big, and quiet, and real. I’ve been hearing the birds more clearly. Feeling the rain more deeply. Sitting with the sound of thunderstorms, letting the music wrap around me like a soft blanket. And the truth is—I never used to notice all this. Before, it was just, “Oh, the birds are singing. That’s nice.” And I’d move on. But now? Now it feels like everything is speaking directly to me. I’ve asked myself, what’s going on with me? Why am I suddenly feeling so much? And maybe… just maybe… it means: I’m becoming more present. I’m healing in ways I didn’t realize. I’m waking up spiritually. I’m letting myself feel… without rushing through it. This isn’t just about nature or music or mood. It’s about me . It’s about something inside me shifting. Softening. Opening. And it feels like I’ve found a new part of myself that was waiting quietly in the background all this time. I love this part of me...

This morning, I noticed something that felt like a small heartbreak: The birds were gone. No chirping, no fluttering, no morning doves cooing in the distance. Just silence. We’re still in summer’s grasp, but it feels like something is slipping away. I looked out into the light, and everything around me glowed silver-bright—threaded with stringy yellow floaters dancing in the air. It should’ve felt alive, but instead, I felt the weight of absence . I didn’t realize how much those birds meant until they stopped singing. Now I’m listening for them in the quiet, wondering where they’ve gone... and what it means.  

Lately, I’ve noticed something about the way I create and share. For the past several months, I’ve been making more Reels—especially on my disability page—than I’ve been writing posts. At first, I didn’t think much of it. But now I realize it’s not just a habit—it’s a shift in how I express myself. Reels let me share what I’m feeling in the moment. Whether it’s a sound, a scripture, a smile, or a quiet moment with my family, I get to say so much without saying everything. I think I’ve been craving that kind of instant connection. The kind that doesn’t need a lot of words, but still carries meaning. That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped writing—just that right now, I’m speaking more through movement, sound, and visuals. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe this season of my life calls for a different kind of voice—and I’m learning to honor that. —Kamala Milton