Translated material
I put a black prosthesis of my eyes
23-year-old Ekaterina Shlykova lost her eyes in childhood. Since then, she wore an anatomical prosthesis that looked like real. In adolescence, she began to complex and be shy of her appearance. At 20, Catherine changed the anatomical prosthesis to black, came to therapy and decided to learn from the psychologist herself. Now commentators in social networks write that she mutilated herself, and passers -by showing her a finger, but Catherine believes that the black prosthesis helped her change her life for the better and feel more beautiful. She told the cold her story.
I have a lot of cheat, but I feel happy because I no longer try to seem “ordinary”
I smile broadly into the camera, and instead of the eye of the bruise
I was born in a small village near Volgograd with an absolutely healthy child, but when I was several months old, my parents noticed that in my left eye a stain formed on the retina, like a glass. They showed me to the doctors, and they confirmed the fears, made me a diagnosis-fibrosis of the vitreous body (a condition in which dense fibers or films of connective tissue are formed in the vitreous body due to hemorrhage or inflammation.-approx. “Cold”) .
Very elderly people usually face such a problem, and, as it appeared with me, the doctors could not explain - they only suggest that the cause could be congenital anomalies. Parents warned that I was facing partial blindness, they advised me to go on regular examinations and drip drops in the eye. Parents turned to other hospitals, but even there they said that the condition could not be improved, but it can only be supported. In my case, the disease progressed: by eight years, my left eye began to hurt in bright light, and the doctors recommended it to remove it.
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I knew what operation they would do to me - my parents spoke to me about it, but did not attach any importance to what was happening. As far as I remember, I always had an invisible left eye, so I did not care if I had it or not.
The recovery period was quite complicated, I was sick and bothered the “butterfly” in the hand (catheter.-approx. “Cold”) . But after a couple of days I had fun and played with the guys in the hospital with might and main. On my mother’s old-old phone, there was a photo of how I was sitting next to her on a bunk in the ward, instead of my eye a huge bruise, and still smile broadly into the camera, as if nothing had happened.
Terminator
A few weeks later, when the cavity healed, they put me a glass anatomical prosthesis. He did not quite fit in size and fell out of the orbit several times, as soon as I scratched my eye. Otherwise, he did not cause me any inconvenience. My mother took him out and carried out the necessary hygiene procedures, since I myself did not know how to do this then. And a few years later, by my standards, I was made an individual prosthesis. I think all this contributed to the fact that I did not think that I had no eye .
I understood that my field of view was narrowed: when I turned unsuccessfully, rarely, but it happened that it crashed into the door of a cabinet. I also knew that if a person approaches me on the left or a car drives up - I will not always notice it at once. But otherwise, I did not vouch at all that I was different from other children: I did not stand in front of the mirror, I did not study my reflection.
I calmly talked with my peers, and it was only two or three times when the-raids teased me with a “one-eyed” and “terminator”. In such cases, I came home and asked my mother and dad if it was true if I really didn’t like it. My parents assured me that I was the best and most beautiful, older brother and named sister (daughter of the nanny) arranged “showdowns” to my offenders. The incidents were exhausted on this.
Much later, I found out that I managed to avoid mockery thanks to my class teacher. Mom said that she convened the parental hour, while I was recovering in the hospital after the operation, explained to the parents of my classmates that I would return to school with a new eye, and asked them to prepare her children for this.
Parents always supported me, but we had practically no talk about what I experienced and how to do it further. Now I understand that for them this whole story was very painful and they did not know how to talk about it with me.
But then I had a contradictory opinion about myself. On the one hand, I felt the most beloved and the best, and on the other, I realized that there was a share of deception. “I know that I am different, but you don’t talk about it and assure that I am the best,” I began to think when I became more powerful.
I did not believe that everything is fine with me
At the age of 14, a turning point happened in my life: I first looked at myself not as a child, but as a girl, and I really did not like what I saw. I began to think that my left eye, despite the anatomical prosthesis, still resembles a little on the real one. He did not keep up with facial expressions and mowed aside. I was embarrassed by it, closed my hair and took pictures in strictly verified poses, but with lively communication with people it could not be disguised.
As if the show was sleeping from me, and for the first time I realized that I had no eye.
All those thoughts and experiences that I did not let me in my head over the previous six years surpassed me overnight. I hated myself, experienced disgust for myself, was angry and did not understand why it was for me that it fell from other people. “The rest of the girls are fine with the eyes, and I have hell with them what is happening. Why should I live with this, why not someone else? " -Such thoughts were spinning in my head and sometimes turned me into truly dark conditions. So sometimes I did not understand how to continue to live.
From the excellent girl, I turned into a rebel. She began to drink, smoke, meet with guys and even engage in self -harm. Alcohol helped me relax and speak out. I began to tell my friends what I had long kept in myself. Communication with the guys served as compensation for me. I was very lucky that the guys in my environment were adequate, they considered me beautiful, made compliments. I hugged with them, kissed, and then said goodbye. I did not need more from them, at their expense I simply received confirmation that I was beautiful and desirable.
At 18, I moved from my close friend, because it seemed to me that she was getting more attention from men, and I felt the need to compete with her. I did not believe that everything is fine with me, that I could sincerely love me, and therefore I always looked for confirmation that they love me. I lacked attention, and in the race after him I felt unhappy and inferior.
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I strengthened my rejection of myself and rare cases of betrayal from friends and guys. So my friend, after our quarrel, wrote to me that I was “one -eyed scorching”, and the guy I met at 17 (he was 21 years old) told my friends about me and my eyes after our parting.
But I myself was my main enemy. At 18, depression was diagnosed to me. I began to treat it with the help of medicines and after six months I came out of it. But she was able to finally accept herself only at the age of 20. Psychotherapy and black prosthesis helped.
I did not care about the opinions of others
When I was 20 years old, it's time to change the prosthesis to a new one. I timidly looked at black prostheses: it seemed to me that they looked much cooler than my mowing and sedentary anatomical.
By that time, I had already led a small blog on Instagram, was signed by Dasha Mukhina, corresponded with her and was very inspired by her (in April 2020, 18-year-old Daria Mukhina lost her eyes, after her former partner shot her head. The bullet flew half a meter from her head, the fragment was shy and fell into her left eyes. I got a black prosthesis and began to conduct a popular blog about acceptance of myself.
But I myself still did not dare to go to this step. My mother and guy believed that black prostheses attract too much attention, and the doctor who was engaged in prosthetics in the hospital where I was observed, and completely called those who put them crazy instead of anatomical ones. I thought that, as usual, I would change my prosthesis to a new one, but at the last moment I still decided to do as I wanted, and spit on the opinions of others. I wrote about this to Dasha, and she supported me and offered to help: she transferred 15 thousand rubles.
The new prosthesis was made to me in Moscow, and although I, my mother, the guy and my friend, really liked it, I realized that I would have to learn how to defend my boundaries if I am going to live with a black eye. In the capital, people reacted to me with interest, and in Volgograd there was different. Once, for example, a couple of 40-year-old people sitting in a cafe considered it possible to discuss my eyes and point a finger at me.
Another unfamiliar man came up to me and began to prove that I urgently needed to go to the hospital.
The next step I came to psychotherapy - and this changed my life. From the very beginning, my psychotherapist suggested me what my main problem lies: I was so fully and did not realize what happened to me, and did not learn to talk about it. I replaced my pain in connection with the loss of my eye and did not live in the moment, so she caught up with me with triple force.
At first I thought the therapist was saying some kind of nonsense. “How could I not reflect that my eyes were taken away, if in my place I had a glass prosthesis, did I know all this and did not deny it? I did not invent a parallel world in which my eyes are healthy! ” I thought.
But soon I realized that she was right. I realized how serious the missing was that no one talked about what had happened to me as a child. I understand my parents: even if I had never accused them of anything, they still felt responsible for the fact that their child lost their eyes, and it was difficult for them to talk to me about it. But why a child psychologist did not work with me in the hospital, a riddle for me is still.
In therapy, I lived in loss of my eyes, at first I broke and pulled all the pain, and then, together with the therapist, I found for myself the answer to the question of how to live on with this.
The game "Pretend the usual and lose"
The black prosthesis helped me a lot to accept myself and my otherness. With him, I stopped hiding and participating in the game "Pretend the usual and lose." With my black eye, I immediately declare that I am special and that I have nothing to be ashamed. With him I feel beautiful and confident, and this is a hundred times better than my previous implant, who tried to look like a real eye, but looked somewhere to the side and still looked artificial. I in no case criticize people who are more comfortable with anatomical prostheses, just in my case it did not work.
The newly acquired self-confidence spurred me to finally do what she had long wanted in professional life. From the 11th grade, psychology was in one way or another, I dreamed of studying the structure of personality and human relationships. And my own experience in psychotherapy showed me how savor sessions are with a good specialist. Therefore, I went to professional retraining and for the third month I have been studying practical psychology. I dream of getting a diploma and starting consultations. In addition, I am leading and developing a blog, which, I hope, helps to normalize people without an organ of vision in our society and, in general, all who have differences, internal or external ones.
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A indicative story recently happened to me. My dad came to me when I processed a prosthesis, and for the first time in my life I saw me without him. Such I showed only to my mother, guy and girlfriend. Dad tried not to show, but in his face expression, I realized that he was embarrassed and shocked. If one of the closest people in my life had such a reaction, imagine what it can be for others. One of the tasks of my blog is to show people that we, people with features, can look as we want and we should not be afraid of us.
Therefore, I publish the realgs in which I tell how I could accept myself, and publicly shame the Haters. I should not sink to their level and answer them with their own coin, many subscribers consider them, but it is important for me not so much to re -educate their offenders, but to show people with the features that we deserve love and acceptance, and not bullying.
Many subscribers say that thanks to my content, they have the hope that they will once accept themselves. I am madly pleased to receive such feedback, but I doubt that my blog is able to help everyone. It is foolish to say to people who have lost their eyes: “Guys, look at me, and your life will change. I was able to, and you can. " So it does not work, acceptance of oneself is the result of a huge work on oneself, and without therapy and an individual approach, this is hardly possible. But I want to believe that my blog can push people on this path, show them that it is real.
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Author: Inga Olshanskaya photo for the cover of Makarova / @pH_M.VA / Instagram