Much before this year began, I was looking forward to it. Yes, specifically this year: 2020.
Why?
Well, (a), it just sounds cool. Twenty-twenty! Two teensy weensy twenty twins.
And, (b), I was always so intrigued by this idiom: “Hindsight is 20/20.” I have terrible eyesight. How terrible? I’m actually writing this blog entry on my phone without wearing contacts or glasses. In order for me to see what I’m typing, I must bring my phone close enough to my face that my texting thumbs could easily reach my chin if I simply straightened them. Go ahead. Try it. You’re probably reading this on your phone right now anyway. No one will judge you. It’ll just look like you’re briefly scratching your chin in contemplation. Did you do it? Great. Yeah, I know. I told you my eyesight is terrible.
I got my first pair of glasses when I was about six years old. I spent the first six years of my life unable to clearly see anything that was more than a “thumbs-up-length” away. When I received my first pair of glasses, I slipped them on each morning and paused in awe of how crisp the world really was. “You mean people’s faces aren’t just blobs on top of shoulders?” I thought.
That first period of my life was not the only time I was almost blind. I spent yet another six years immersed in a different kind of blindness.
When I was twenty years old, I became insanely infatuated with a man who would eventually become my counterpart in a very toxic relationship (or rather, “almost relationship”. We never actually dated.) Trapped in a trance I thought was love, my friends and family attempted to free me by telling me that the source of much of my misery was my involvement with this man, er… boy. Unfortunately, I had the selective hearing of a stereotypical teenage girl. Not only was I blinded by what I thought was love, but I was a little deaf, too.
If I had known what I know now, I feel like I could have saved myself six years of my life. But just like when I was six years old, I didn’t know how clearly I was able to see the world until I actually slipped on that first pair of glasses—until I could finally see what much of the world could see: 20/20.
How?
After seeing frightening flashes of what my future might be like had I continued this relationship, I finally called it quits. Not long after that, I met someone who became a very good friend: the man who would eventually give me my first pair of metaphorical glasses. Let’s call him Mr. Glasses. Mr. Glasses taught me how to unlearn the lessons of inadequacy and self-loathing that my ex-”boyfriend” had instilled within me over the course of six years. Mr. Glasses taught me that laughter is beautiful—not something to stifle. My ex-”boyfriend” would often remind me that my belly laugh was unattractive and not something that “sexy” women did. Well, fuck being sexy. Fuck fitting into what he thought was a feminine frame. Fuck that.
Though my pursuit of self-discovery is ultimately my own journey, Mr. Glasses rested a warm hand of reassurance on my tired shoulders. And for the first time in a long time, the only thing I felt I needed to be was myself.
After finding a flattering frame that fit my face just right, Mr. Glasses tucked tufts of hair behind my deaf ears. As he carefully slipped the ends of the glasses atop my unhearing ears, sound slowly seeped into my skull. Snippets of advice from family and friends echoed from ear to ear. Suddenly, I could finally see what everyone else had seen for six years: an abusive, toxic relationship.
Mr. Glasses induced the biggest glass-shattering moment of my life so far: the realization that I had spent the last six years in a shitty relationship putting myself through a pain equivalent to that of shitting glass. While spending time with him, I had so many “aha” moments that they often turned into laughing fits. “Aha, aha, aha,” became “a haa haa haa!”
We’re only two months into this year, but 2020 has already been full of learning and moments of hindsight. Simply, I didn’t know what I didn’t know. But now that I know what I know now, would I do it again? No. Fuck no.
Hindsight is 2020, after all.