HEARTSIGHT

CHRISTINA LLANES MABALOT

Here's to living disability on the lighter side!

Laughter doesn't solve disability-related problems, but when things go awry it's the magic that could transform embarrassment to empowerment, failure to fortitude, and depression to delight.

Ah, another tedious day at the university was finally over! All the while, keeping awake in class had been such a pain. With my 27-credit load and thesis-writing, sleep became my very own happily-ever-after. Like a zombie, I scoured through the traffic of commuters mounting the busy but familiar overpass to cross to the other side of the highway to catch my second ride home. As I always did, I glided the tip of my cane along the pedestrian overpass wall so people wouldn't stumble over it. On auto-pilot navigation, I walked high speed, hoping to save time as I stressed over my to-do list.

Bang! I slammed violently into a man moving at an equally fast speed! His jawbone shook my head, his front teeth were etched into my forehead, and he ended up throwing me down on my bottom. At the same time, my binder and other precious possessions flew all over the place. As soon as I regained my composure, I bounced back on my feet, ready for war. I was severely hurt, so I was livid. I was yelling at the top of my voice to put the rude man in his place. Surprisingly, the man roared back. The nerve, I thought, as I yelled even louder to put the man in his place. My offender did the same, escalating his anger to drown me out. The people around us tried to mediate, but neither of us backed down. I was determined to teach this man a lesson. FWEET! A cop whistled to break the cacophony. This silenced the man and me. "Miss, sir, the person you're arguing with is also blind," the cop explained. I was stunned! But, as soon as the realization set in, shame gripped me and propelled me to turn around and go my way as fast as I could, as if nothing happened. "What could be worse than a blind person getting blindsided by another blind person?" I grumbled as I ran. "Crazy things could only happen to me," I thought as I threw myself a pity party. I was more humiliated than hurt, and the hideous memory of the incident stuck in my mind like a wallpaper. I held on to my misery for quite a while. 

Some time later at a Chinese restaurant, I opened up a fortune cookie message that read: "You grow up the day you have the first good laugh at yourself." This message clicked in my brain, then, like a television, my mind replayed the overpass scene. Suddenly, my inner self, unable to hold back, let out a chuckle that turned into uncontrollable laughter.

"Now, that is undeniably funny!" I admitted. And I looked more ridiculous laughing hysterically that moment than I did on the overpass. I quickly got over my anger and anxiety and deposited my overpass incident into my treasure trove of funnies. What an epiphany for maturity! This message taught me to laugh at myself more often. See, I consider several incidents in my life as a blind person rich parody material. I'll recount some anecdotes if you promise to walk six feet away from me, should we meet in person, ha-ha.

CONVERSATIONS

Talking with people boosts my dopamine, so when chatting with them face to face, I never know when to stop. I'm insensitive to the essential nonverbal cues that indicates the other person's attention level. Several times, I find myself talking to the wall or the air, not realizing that the person I was talking with had already walked away. When this happens at home, where family members have long ago validated my craziness, such an incident would just be dismissed as "Mom moments." But at the call center where I worked, colleagues have doubted my sanity.

"What are you doing?" asked colleagues when they'd catch me talking to the wall in the hallway. "Just venting to the wall." Or, "Talking to myself," I'd often say, covering up for my blunder.

I never bothered to explain my situation, for I really didn't care what my co-workers thought about me. I've also approached several people I don't know, mistaking them for someone I thought sounded like a friend. Once, during my younger years BC (before canes), I approached a guy who I thought was my partner in a project. When I realized he was the wrong person, I said, "I'm sorry, I thought I knew you." The guy, assuming it was a pick-up line, said. "No problem, maybe we could get to know each other." He tailed me for some time until he probably realized that I'm blind.

SHOES

It was my first day for my teaching internship. Desperate for rest, I turned off the alarm when it rang and went back to sleep. I finally got up 30 minutes later, and it was crunch time. In a panic, I resorted to my old reliable business-casual attire, shoes included, and then set out. On my way, I noticed people staring right down at my feet.

"For a change, my visual impairment is not that obvious today," I chuckled. In the classroom, my pre-schoolers were whispering and giggling. I felt offended, thinking that they were laughing at my visual impairment. "Can anyone share what's so funny?" I asked the children. Snickers turned into fear and the class became dead silent. I demanded the children to speak out. Finally, one brave soul said, "Teacher, you're wearing different color shoes, one is black, and the other is white."

There and then I breathed a death wish. So I had two pairs of my old reliable shoes in black and white. I grabbed the wrong pair in my haste that morning since I didn't have enough time to make sure I looked appropriate. I desperately scanned my mind for a justification for mismatched shoes. "That's because our lesson for today is about opposites. Black is the opposite of white, so I chose to wear both colors as an example," I said tongue-in-cheek.

I got away clean that day. But I had to rewrite my lesson plan and scour the classroom for teaching props. Later, I had to buy shoes, and so I missed a final exam. Since then, I vowed never to sleep after an alarm rang. I know for sure that doing so could result in social disaster.

SHAME THAT HAUNTS

Having my disability has resulted in one too many bizarre experiences. If you're like me, I have the tendency to ruminate on embarrassing situations. The memory of a shameful event haunts me for years. "Oh my God, I'm such a klutz! They'll never let me live that down," I'd often repeat to myself again. And again. It became so bad that I developed what I call Post-traumatic Blind Faux-pas Disorder, or PTBFD. Unfortunately, medical science has not discovered a cure for PTBFD, so I was left with two options—withdraw from the sighted world, or simply get over myself. To live like Tom Hanks in the movie Cast Away seemed unbearable, so the second option, to get over myself, has been the only choice for me.

I've taught myself to lighten up. Viktor Frankl said, "I would never have made it if I could not have laughed. It lifted me momentarily out of this horrible situation, just enough to make it livable." Laughter has been the bridge that's tided me over from one horrible situation to the next. Not only did I learn to laugh at myself and embrace my disability, but I also found joy amid trying circumstances.

LOOKING AT THE LIGHTER SIDE OF DISABILITY

The plight of persons with disabilities is not simple nor easy, but mulling over silly events outside of one's control only adds the unnecessary burden of anxiety. In the end, there's one thing we can leverage, and that's our response to undesirable circumstances. To charge apparent failures with positive energy requires a paradigm shift that positive reactions could brighten the worst of moments. Then, embarrassing events could be deemed as funny moments, and times of weakness are turned into opportunities. I've come to the conclusion that the shrill of laughter could pierce the darkness and open up the lighter side of life.

Don't get me wrong, laughter doesn't solve disability-related problems. I still reign as the queen of mishaps due to my blindness. I once spoke at a large conference with my back turned to the audience of more than a thousand because I moved around on stage so much and lost my orientation. At a formal dinner, I shoved a large chunk of Wasabi in my mouth. I've worn different eye make-up colors in meetings, tripped on my extremely high heels (while I was wearing a mini skirt), walked into a glass wall, clasped the hand of a man who was not my husband, and so on.

A t the end of the day, I say, "Here's to living disability on the lighter side!" A disability is not to be taken lightly, but there is a lighter side to every disability. When things go awry, laughter is the magic that could transform embarrassment to empowerment, failure to fortitude, and depression to delight. Finally, always remember, you are not alone in your journey. You might bump into someone who, like you, has a disability and maybe help turn your life around.•

HEARTSIGHT Christina Llanes Mabalot is physically blind from aniridia, but has a vision. She enjoys touching people's lives to bring out the best in them. "Heartsight" explains her ability to see with her heart. Christina earned her B.A. degree and Masters in Education from the University of the Philippines, Diliman, specializing in Early Intervention for the Blind. She later received Educational Leadership training through the Hilton-Perkins International Program in Massachusetts, then worked as consultant for programs for the VI Helen Keller International. She has championed Inclusive Education, Early Intervention, Capability Building and Disability Sensitivity programs. She was twice a winner in the International Speech contests of the Toastmasters International (District 75) and has been a professional inspirational and motivational speaker. Christina is blissfully married to Silver Mabalot, also physically impaired, her partner in advancing noble causes. Their children are Paulo and Jem, who has aniridia. Visit leadershiptovision.com