One moment darkness.
The next, a perfect world.
But my brain had spent two decades relying on sound, touch, and memory.
Now it had to learn how to interpret visual information again.
I struggled to judge distances.
Sometimes, a staircase looked almost flat.
Faces were confusing when people moved quickly.
Bright lights gave me headaches.
And there were days when I closed my eyes because the world felt overwhelming.
Dr. Harris arranged visual rehabilitation.
A therapist named Rachel helped me practice recognizing objects, moving through unfamiliar places, and matching what I saw with what I already understood through touch.
I was surprised by how often I still preferred closing my eyes.
One afternoon, Rachel found me sitting beside a window with my hands covering my face.
"Too much?" she asked gently.
I nodded.
"Everything is so beautiful. But sometimes I can't make sense of it."
She sat beside me.
"Your brain has spent twenty years learning one way to understand the world. It needs time to build another."
