Still seeing in the dark.

es, I feel things, and hear sounds in my dreams.   Amazing Huh?   This morning, everything outside was bright and sunny. I could feel the warmth coming in through the window, the kind of sunlight that makes the air feel a little more alive. But inside—what I “see” in my mind—it was just plain heavy gray. No colors, no shapes, just that dense gray background I’ve come to know so well. The only movement was from very thin stringers, drifting ever so slowly, like wisps of something I can’t quite name. They didn’t glow or flash. They just moved, quietly and almost imperceptibly. And the doves—ugh. Just music, ever so beautiful to my ears. Their gentle cooing filled the silence like a soft lullaby, grounding me in the present moment. Then, hearing my best friend’s voice before my coffee, late this morning? Priceless. It lit something in me before the caffeine ever had the chance. So why the darkness? Why such thin stringers, ever so slowly moving about? I don’t get it. ...

Chapter 4 Last night, the reddish-orange light was so bright, so intense, it filled everything. I couldn’t even tell when I’d closed my eyes—the usual dark reddish-brown I expect was nowhere to be found. It was just light, bold and burning, like a fire behind my eyelids. By morning, the world inside me had settled. The brightness faded back into its usual heavy grey, with slow-floating yellow shapes drifting through the fog. And now, as I sit quietly, the darker reddish-brown edges have returned—faint but grounding—like the calm after a storm. Right now, I see yellow floaters swimming lazily through that grey space, with a soft peach tint in the background. It’s quiet, gentle, almost dreamlike. People ask me, “What are you up to?” It’s a casual question. A way to check in. And I answer casually too—“Oh, just chilling. Writing on my disability page. Sipping some coffee.” It’s true, but it’s not the full truth. What I don’t say is that while I sip that coffee, I’m watching y...

Very late last night—after 11 PM—something changed. All day long, the outside world had been bright. The sun was shining, people were moving, and everything looked alive. But inside, where my own vision lives, everything stayed dark. Heavy. Still. Then, just when the world got quiet… the light came back. A soft, bright yellow started glowing in the dark, and the floaters came in gently. Not rushing, not flashing—just moving easily, like they belonged there. I laid there wondering, why now? Why did it wait all day, only to return at night, just when everything around me was still? But it didn’t stop there. The brightness stayed with me into this morning, while I had some sweet quiet time with my stepdad—talking and listening to music together. And it stayed while I spent time talking with my friends, too. Even now, as I write this, it’s still here with me. I don’t always understand why it comes and goes. But when it returns, it’s like a gift—reminding me that even in the dark, the...

It’s still dark inside. Since I wrote my last post, not much has changed. The vivid colors I used to see in my internal world—the deep purples, the fiery reds, the glowing light—they’re still gone. What’s left is a slow yellow floating across a heavy, dark gray. And silence. And stillness. But I’ve been sitting with it. Not rushing it. Not trying to force the colors back. Just waiting. Watching. Because maybe this is not a loss. Maybe it’s a pause. Maybe my internal world is doing what the earth does at night—resting. Maybe my spirit, my vision, my mind… are simply making space for something new to form. Something I haven’t seen yet. The yellow is still here. It moves slowly, but it moves. It hasn’t disappeared. And that means something. Yellow has always felt like light to me. Like hope. Like a sign that the door hasn’t closed, not fully. Something is still alive inside this darkness. Something is still trying to reach me. On the outside, I’m okay. I’ve been clearing out...

Lately, I’ve noticed something unsettling—something I’ve never quite felt before. Everything inside me is still dark. Not just the outside world—I’ve been living in total blindness for a long time, with no eyes and no physical sight. But I’ve always had an eternal visual world inside me. I see colors and shapes without needing to see the outside. That world has been my comfort. My light. My truth. But something has changed. The bright colors are gone. No vivid reds. No deep purples. No glowing white light. Just a heavy, unmoving gray— with yellow barely floating through, and even that is slow and dull. I don’t know where the rest of it went. I don’t know why it’s not coming back. And it’s confusing, because on the outside , I’m doing fine. I actually feel excited. Today, I’ve been cleaning up my bedroom—throwing out old Braille magazines that I don’t need anymore, making space, clearing out clutter. It feels good. Like a fresh start. A reset. I’m smiling, I’m grounded, I’...

This evening, everything is still dark—except for some yellow floating through. I don’t know why it feels so dim inside visually, but despite that, I actually feel pretty good. My legs are sore, but that’s because I danced a lot yesterday at the party—and honestly, I don’t regret it one bit. That kind of joy is worth a little soreness. Earlier this afternoon, before I took my nap, I was on the phone with my best friend, her boyfriend, and his roommate. We were catching up, sharing updates, and enjoying the company. Her boyfriend’s roommate even jumped in to talk about why we should mute our phones during Bible study, so people can focus better when someone is speaking or reading. It was meaningful. It felt like we were all in sync. But then—suddenly—my best friend said, “Kamala, can I call you back please?” And right after that, her boyfriend’s roommate started laughing. I don’t know what that was all about, but it made me feel uneasy—like something had shifted in the energy of...

Today was supposed to be a simple task. Just one small goal: get my Blogger posts to automatically share on my Facebook Disability page using IFTTT. It sounded so easy—just connect a few services, click a few buttons, and let the automation do the rest. Instead, it turned into a long, frustrating ordeal. I followed all the steps. I connected Blogger to IFTTT. I linked it to my Facebook Page. I created triggers and actions, tested feeds, read logs, and waited. And waited. And waited. I posted a simple test blog—nothing fancy. Just a quick message saying this was only a test to see if it would show up on my Facebook page. But nothing showed up. Not after five minutes. Not after fifteen. Not after checking the feed again, refreshing IFTTT, or reviewing all the settings that were supposedly “on” and “connected.” I double-checked my feed URL. I made sure Facebook Pages was connected, not just my personal profile. I tried using the regular feed trigger. I tried using one that asked for k...