NuVision for a NuDay

Sometimes you just have to do what you got to do.

2012-01-20T02:04:00.006-06:00

I'm seriously considering making a huge career switch. Well, I probably shouldn't say it's that huge since my current career is not really working for me. To switch now really wouldn't be making a huge splash. No one would probably even notice it.

What am I considering as my next career move?
I'm actually thinking about becoming a teacher for the visually impaired.
Yep... Me...

The fact that I'm seriously considering this as a career option comes to a shock for me. I remember when I was in high school... I vowed I would never pursue a "blind" job. What's a blind job, you might ask. Well, I considered any job that was traditionally done by blind people as a blind job. I didn't want to be forced into a box that was specially designed for blind people. So, I avoided any jobs that were seen as being favorable or common for blind people.

In my maturity, I realize how dumb that was. Do you know that I actually shied away from doing music because I didn't want people to think of me as Stephanie Wonder or Rayna Charles? Yes, I know... Dumb! Now that I'm older and functionally broke, I now wish I would've continued my music lessons.

So, now I'm taking the steps to try to get certified as a teacher. After I climb over that hurdle, then I will pursue the extra certification that will allow me to work with blind and visually impaired students.

The reason why I said getting my teaching certificate was going to be a challenge is because I'm not really sure how many principals will allow a blind woman to student teach or intern in a classroom filled with sighted children. So, I'm trying to explore other ways I can get that done. Perhaps I can student teach at a small, privately ran school or even at the school for the blind in Austin. We shall see.

Now, here's the thing... If another career option opens up for me before I take all of these steps to become certified as a teacher for the visually impaired, then I will probably pass on the teacher thing. It's really not my first choice. But remaining functionally broke is my last choice for everything. So, at this point, I'm trying to do whatever I can to raise myself out of this financial hole I'm living in. So, if that means I have to leap over hurdles to get a job that's not even what I want to do for the rest of my life or even a part of my life, then I'll do that.

I'm a do whatchu have to do kind of woman. So, right now... That's what I'm doing.

I'm also still working on my masters in Counseling, writing my first book, accepting speaking engagements as they come, and about to mount my first stage play. Yes, I know I'm a busy girl. I'm working hard to try to make something happen for a girl that deserves a break.

Keep me in your prayers as I journey to a life that is stamped with destiny and sprinkled with prosperity.

Smooches!
Angie

Just one of those things...

2011-12-19T13:43:00.000-06:00

When I pulled myself out of bed Thursday morning, it seemed that my day was going to be filled with the usual stress that I absolutely do not look forward to, as well as the usual joys that I've come to depend on to help me cope with the stress that has plagued me for the last few years. But there was something different waiting on me in the afternoon hours. Something that hardly ever happens... Something I work hard to avoid... Something that I hate...

I work from home. So, I typically spend most of my time at the house. That's really not something I've come to like since I've been working from home. However, the total convenience of earning money in the comfort of your home is so attractive, there are only a few things in life I would trade my work at home option in to gain.

Well, last Thursday was one of those unusual days that I had to go into the office. After my niece called to let me know what time she was coming to pick me up, I slipped on some denim jeans, a blue, three quarter length sweater, and some high heel, black boots. Next, I flat-ironed my hair, applied my make-up, slipped my jewelry on my ears and wrist, and sprayed my favorite perfume around my neck. My goal to look the part, even if I didn't feel the part, was achieved.

After leaving the office, I asked my niece to take me to the bank so that I could take care of some of my financial affairs. She said yes, but made it clear that she had no idea where the bank was that I needed to go to. I called my sister to get directions. But instead of giving directions, she eagerly agreed to take me herself. So, my niece brought me home, where I could get out of her passenger seat to switch to my sister's passenger seat to go to the bank.

After handling my financial affairs with the teller, I slipped my cash and receipts in my pocket, grabbed my sister's arm, and exited the building, already processing how I needed to split my money to cover the household bills. When I stepped out of the lobby of the branch, I could feel the warmth of the radiant sun shining across my face. Even though it's winter, it was 79 degrees that particular day. So, I was enjoying the unusual warm temperature and the coolness of the wind that brushed against my face.

All of the sudden, without any foreseeable warning, I slipped off the first of several cement stairs in front of the bank. It happened so quickly. One second I was walking, thinking about all the bills I needed to pay, but still enjoying the Houston weather. And then the next second, I slipped off the stair and went tumbling down, and quite, quite fast and hard, I might add.

I tried to use my hands to break my fall, but gravity took over and demanded that I continue to roll down the stairs. My mind was racing as I was tumbling. I didn't want to hit my face on that concrete. I didn't want to break a bone. I didn't want people around me that were watching to think of me as the pitiful blind lady. It was all so terrible. Finally, after about seven seconds, my body rested on the bottom step. My sister grabbed me and helped me off the ground.

Before I could get home, my body starting aching. My leg, back, and shoulder were bruised up pretty badly. Thankfully, I had no broken bones. I took some pain meds and got in the bed to rest my aching muscles.

That night, my family kept asking me over and over what happened. They wanted to blame my sister or the bank. I had to explain to all of them it was just an accident. And while I don't typically have accidents because I'm blind, I really think that this particular fall was a result of not being able to see.

So, there was no point in being mad at my sister who was guiding me. There's no point in getting a lawyer to try to sue the bank. There's no point in even being mad at myself. It's just one of those things that comes with being blind. Sometimes you're going to bump into things, stumble and fall, knock things over, and lose something that's right in front of you. It is what it is.

Twenty Years

2011-12-18T18:42:00.005-06:00

As I'm sitting here working on my memoir, I just realized that I've crossed over into the 20th anniversary of losing all my sight. I was 10 years old when I first contracted Glaucoma. After a 7 year battle that included 14 painful surgeries, swallowing countless pills, and dropping liquid medicine in my eyes, I was left only with the ability to perceive light from darkness. A year later, the ability to see light would also turn into a nere memory. And the tripped out thing is that after going through all of that, there are still folks that believe I'm faking my
blindness.
If I'm that good of an actress, I need to be making millions in Hollywood instead of sitting here in this armchair updating my blog.

I have a confession.

2011-12-10T02:38:00.003-06:00

In general, I hate it when people use social networking sites, like Facebook, to air out their dirty laundry. Most of the times, I cringe and shake my head every time a highly inappropriate piece of personal disclosure from one of my FB friends pops up in my FB feed. I often wonder if these people just don't care what people think about them and their disclosures, or if they just don't realize what people really think about them and their raw FB confessions.

And then there are other times when I sympathize with my FB friends when I read their random confessions. I honestly think that people just want to be heard. They want their voices to be recognized. They want their story to be told. Isn't that why I and millions of others have started personal diaries on the internet in the form of blogs? Hmm...

Even still, I think that it's important for people to understand that telling one's personal story or honest perspective on an issue should require that you think before you post/speak/publish.
Words follow us. And words also have the power to empower or destroy.
I encourage everyone to find a way to use their words to empower oneself or others rather than using words to insult or disrespect.

And if you're one of these people that need to disclose for the purpose of cleansing oneself or unburdening yourself of bad feelings, be careful what you disclose and who you disclose it to. You never want what you needed to get out of your system in the first place to loop back and crack you upside your head when and if someone decides to use your confession against you.

There's no doubt that I have used this blog as a form of self-therapy over the years. There have been countless times since I started this blog back in 2006 that I felt like I needed to just get something off of my chest. So, I would write about what I was feeling and post it right here, on NuVision for a NuDay. But I would be kidding myself if I didn't think that my words weren't being read by people that I know and don't know. So, I don't post anything here that can revisit me in the form of emotional or verbal violence if it gets in the hands of the wrong people.

In the last few months, I've been working on my first memoir. As I write my book of confessions, I'm trying my best to write a book that will empower myself and others. I am not interested in hurting or outing anyone. I'm not interested in using my book to get revenge against people that have hurt me over the years. The only reasons why I'm writing my story is to take ownership of my personal truths, help someone else, and make some money. All true! LOL

I have another confession. It's 3:18 in the morning where I am. The truth is that I feel absolutely horrible right now. The truth is that I wish I could just get on this blog and complain, complain, complain, and complain some more. But what good would that do me or you? So, instead of complaining about all the things I'm going through, I decided to write something that can be helpful to me and others if you or they stumble upon this post.

I have one more confession before I sign off.
I hope you have a beautiful weekend! It is my prayer that you find personal fulfillment and peace.

Angela L. Braden

Like a Ton of Bricks

2011-12-08T09:56:00.002-06:00

The other day, I was in the laundry room transferring a load of clothes from the washer to the dryer when the darkness I live in 24 hours of the day suddenly became more obvious to me than it normally does. A profound sadness fell over me as the memories of losing my sight flashed through my mind in what seemed like a millisecond. For that very moment, I wished I could somehow forcefully plunge through the walls of impenetrable darkness that surround me and reclaim the light that was taken from me twenty years ago. And then as quickly as the sadness came, it left me. I tossed the last of the clothes in the dryer and walked out of the laundry room, determined to live a happy life, with or without sight.

Sorry, ma'am. This is real life. Not a Sprint store or a Lexis dealership...

2011-12-08T01:16:00.003-06:00

There's no doubt that I wish my life came with an upgrade benefit, the same way Sprint allows me to upgrade my phone every two years. Boy, don't I wish I could trade my life in for a new one after so many miles has accumilated on it, the same way car owners do when their whip is starting to require too many repairs to keep it running. Can you imagine it...

Yes, sir. I'm in the market for a new life. This one worked out beautifully for me in the beginning. But now, it just doesn't have the reliability it once had. I'd like to see what new lives you have on your showroom floor. This time, I want one with a full warranty, a fantastic body, and a superior navigation system. Money is not an option. Just put me in a new life that I can be proud to live.

But hey... It doesn't work out like that. The life we have now was given to us by God. And it is our job to take care of it the best way we can and know how. And if there is an upgrade that we want in our lives, we have to work to attain it. There's no doubt that the work we have to put in to change and/or upgrade our lives is tough. But you're worth the hard work! Give yourself a good life! That's what I've been trying to do for myself lately!!!!!

Angela L. Braden
Award Winning Blogger
www.nuvisionforanuday.blogspot.com

Black Sky; Memoir of a Blinding Girl

2011-12-07T09:15:00.002-06:00

I'm proud to announce to my readers that I'm currently in the process of writing my first memoir, Black Sky; Memoir of a Blinding Girl. I've completed 50% of the first draft a couple days ago. I'm working a few hours each day to complete this draft by January 15th. Once I finish, the hard work of rewrites will begin. I'll also start the process to find a literary agent to help me enter the world of publishing. Please keep me in your prayers as I pen my story.

Happy living,
Angela L. Braden

Thankful Times 7

2011-11-19T14:55:00.004-06:00

1. I'm quite thankful that I got a chance to see the world through the lens of a girl with perfect eye sight the first ten years of my life. I'm quite fortunate to have seen exquisite paintings, marvelous sculptures, the mastery of an ant bed, the coolness of the color turquoise, the breathtaking ornaments that decorate the day and night sky, the broad array of human physical characteristics, a sleepy crocodile, the lapping waters of a massive river, and countless other visual masterpieces that I’ll be able to cherish for a lifetime. #thankful

2. I'm thankful that I can brush my teeth, use the toilet, bathe my body, perm/wash/flatiron/style my own hair, and dress myself, without the assistance of others. #thankful

3. I'm thankful that I got a chance to climb a tree, ride a bike, go horseback riding, jump from a swing while in motion, dangle from monkey bars, write in cursive, draw and paint an award winning piece of art, thread a sewing needle, light a firecracker, play Monopoly, catch a fish, and play video games before losing my sight. #thankful

4. I may not have all the $$ I feel like I want and need, but I'm so thankful that the money I do have has afforded me with a roof over my head, a mattress to sleep on, several sofas and chairs to sit on, two refrigerators to store my food, a washer and dryer to keep my clothes clean, a stove to cook my food, computer to type on, internet access to surf the web with, software to make my computer do the special little things it does for me to be able to use it, nice enough clothes and shoes, and food that I actually like to eat to keep me full. #thankful

5. I'm so thankful to b my mother's and father's daughter. I can't imagine what my life would look like if I didn't have both of them in it. Both of them truly are the reason why I am who I am today. I can never repay them for what they've done for me. I love you, Thurman and Margie Braden!!!!! #thankful

6. In 2008, I created a bucket list with 101 goals on it. Tracing my family history back to emancipation was #27 on my list. I'm so thankful that I achieved that and more. I've traced six branches of my ancestry to 1870: Wyatt, Grayson, Boyd, Dunn, Bacon, and Tillery. And I hit the jackpot with my Braden research. We've now been able to trace my Braden roots all the way back to the 1600's. Remarkably, I have ancestors that participated in the colonization of Jamestown. Because Dudley Braden had white ancestors, we've been able to trace our family history back to Scotland and England. I won't stop researching until I hit the banks of Africa. So, I forge ahead. #thankful

7. I'm quite thankful that I have the ability to remember, imagine, brainstorm, problem solve, analyze, criticize, and make decisions. #thankful

The Confrontation (Part 3 of 3)

2011-11-13T17:34:00.003-06:00

Next we headed to the stables to embark on what was to be the first horseback ride for many of us. I held
Christie’s hand as we hiked on the dirt trail away from the lake and towards the horses. When we arrived at the stables, I was delighted to see the large, gallant horses that stood proudly as we walked towards them. Their brown coats were so thick and beautiful. Several of the horses were stamping their feet, trying to get the flies that were landing on them to fly elsewhere. I was totally disgusted by the sight of those huge, flying pests.
“Before we take our friends for a ride, let’s feed them a snack. Who wants to feed the horses?” Miss Lisa asked.
Several girls volunteered. I figured I should wait to see what did feeding the horses entail before I shouted meeeee.
A husky man with a gray mustache, dressed in distressed, blue denim overalls, an orange, cotton shirt, and a straw hat, grabbed a small metal box from one of the shelves in the stable and handed it to Miss Lisa. She grabbed three sugar cubes and put her hands up to one of the horse’s large mouth. That’s when I got a glimpse of how huge the teeth are in a horse’s mouth. There was no way I was going to feed one of these big teeth beasts one of those sugar cubes.
When the girls finished feeding the horses a couple dozen of the sweet squares, Miss Lisa announced that it was time to saddle the horses. She explained that she and the stable keeper were going to take two of us at a time out to the horse trail. I rushed to get in line, but I managed to somehow be towards the back of the line. Miss Lisa ignored my place in the line and motioned for me to come forward where she and the horses were standing.
She explained that I would be one of the first two girls that would ride, being that my parents were there to pick me up. I figured that someone must've informed her on the walkie talkie when I wasn't paying attention. I was so glad my parents were being patient, giving me a chance to ride.
I watched Miss Lisa help Sylvia, a petite, dark haired, Latina girl, mount her horse. It seemed easy enough when Sylvia did it. So, I figured it would be easy for me too. When my turn arrived, Miss Lisa held my waist as she instructed me to slide my foot into the stirrup and to hoist my other leg across the horse she affectionately called Benny. As soon as I had my leg hiked up to straddle the horse, the large animal stamped his massive hoof to shake off a huge, black fly that landed on his nose. He nearly sent me flying to the ground.
“It’s alright.” Lisa said.
“I got you.” Gripping me tighter around my waist.
I held tightly to the saddle as I mounted the horse. I looked down at the ground, quickly taking notice how far away I was from it, and also realizing how badly I would hurt myself if I accidently fell from the horse. I gripped the saddle tighter that circled Benny's waist.
“You don’t have to be scared. Benny's a good boy.” Patting the horse on its back.
Miss Lisa grabbed a leather strap that was attached to the harness of each horse’s neck. As she pulled forward, each horse started trotting to walk along each side of her. Fear crept up my back and tension gripped my shoulders. I felt so uneasy on that horse. I felt like I was getting dizzy, unable to keep my balance, and about to fall off the horse’s back at any moment. I kept looking down at the ground instead of ahead of me. Before I even recognized what I had done, I parted my lips and loudly blurted, “I’m scared! I need to get off.”
Miss Lisa stopped the horses from trotting and walked over and rubbed my back.
“You’ll be alright. Trust me.”
“No, I want to get off now.” Tears filled my eyes.
I’m not sure why I was crying. I’m not sure why I was so afraid. I just knew I wanted to get off that horse right then and not a second later.
"Please now!" I screamed.
Miss Lisa grabbed my waist as she directed me to safely get down from the horse. I tipped over to the side, nearly falling as I tried to catch my balance. I blinked my eyes over and over, trying to focus my eyes through the tears.
“We better get you back to the main office where your parents are.” Mixing the salty tears and sweat as she wiped my face.
Next, she used her walkie talkie to call someone and ten minutes later, Miss Tina arrived to the stables. She grabbed my hand and told me she was going to take me to my parents, who were waiting for me in her office. More tears entered the corners of my eyes. Miss Tina squeezed my hand and asked me why I was crying. Instead of answering her, I held my breath to try to get the disappointment to back out of my system.
I looked at all the girls, who were looking at me with puzzled expressions. I waved a sad goodbye towards them. I then spotted Christie, who was standing at the end of the line. Her reddish brown skin almost matched the red dirt Where she was standing in her blue and white Addidas. She had on a snazzy, red, white, and blue short set that I hadn’t really paid attention to before that point. Sadness filled her brown eyes as she waved goodbye to me.
“Bye Angela. See you at school.” She said.
I released the air from my lungs and offered her a somber goodbye as I wiped the remaining tears from my eyes.
Miss Tina and I slowly walked to the office where my parents were waiting on me. When we arrived to the air conditioned building, I was relieved to feel the coolness of the air and to also see my smiling parents. Daddy informed me that my things were already in the car, ready to go. And the only thing they needed to get back on the road was me. I pulled my hand from Miss Tina’s hand and went to grab my mother’s arm.
Miss Tina and my parents exchanged a little conversation about the weather, the campgrounds, the traffic in Houston, and the mosquito problem in the woods. Twenty minutes later, we were riding on 59 South, headed back to Houston. My daddy asked me if I enjoyed the horseback ride.
“It was okay.” I replied.
“Just okay?” Mama asked.
I didn’t tell my parents how scared I was and that I demanded to get off the horse. And even though my parents were very perceptive when it came to each other and their four daughters, they had no idea that I had been crying right before I met them at the office.
I did, however, tell them about my fish victory. Daddy laughed and laughed when I told him how Christie threw the fish back in the water. My mother didn’t think it was quite as funny. That caused Daddy and I to laugh more.

The Confrontation (Part 2 of 3)

2011-11-10T19:32:00.004-06:00

After about five more minutes of walking on the winding trail through the East Texas woods, we finally made it to the lake. I spotted the other girls in my camping group sitting on a large wooden pier. Each of them had small fishing poles in their hands. I couldn’t wait to get my chance to throw a line into the water.
As we stepped on the pier, someone tapped me on my right shoulder, nearly startling me. I looked to the right and it was one of the girls from my group.
“Oh, Hi Christie.” I said.
“I’ve been waving at you, trying to get you to come and sit on the pier next to me, but you were igging me. Are you mad at me?” Worry filled her large, brown eyes as she tried to figure out why I was acting the way she thought I was acting.
Christie was one of my best friends in the third and fourth grade. We were separated in the fifth grade when the fifth grade teachers did a lottery system to assign the students to the classes. We very seldom got a chance to play together since her school bus picked her up less than ten minutes after the dismissal bell would ring. So, any opportunity we got a chance to hang out, we anxiously grasped at it. I guess that’s why she was confused to why I didn’t respond to her waving at me.
“Christie, I didn’t see you waving at me.” I informed.
Her eyes looked puzzled as she studied me to discern if I was being honest. I grabbed her hand and smiled at her, trying to reassure her that I would never ignore her.
“Oh, you know I want to sit next to you on the pier.” I said.
I turned and thanked Miss Tina for walking with me. She tapped me on the shoulder and reminded me to be very careful. Before walking away, she told me that she would come and get me when my parents were back.
“Have fun!” She commanded.
I trotted down the pier, telling Christie about the squirrel and bird fight I witnessed on the way to the lake. She laughed and started acting out the fight scene, one minute pretending to be the bird and next the squirrel. Her twisted pony tails danced as she flapped her arms and jerked her neck, pretending she was pecking the squirrel. By the time we got to the line of girls that were sitting on the edge of the pier fishing, both of us were bubbling over with giggles. We sat down, and our team leader, Miss Lisa, brought us two small fishing poles. She then offered us a plastic bag that had about a dozen brown worms in it.
“Ew!” I yelped.
“Yes, we’re going to use live bait. I’ll put it on the hook for you.” Taking one of the worms out of the bag.
I looked at the squirmy creature as she slid the thin metal hook through his body. My mind raced back to the book I read in the third grade, How to Eat Fried Worms. There was no way I could ever eat a worm. I would eat dirt first. I thought.
She handed me the fishing pole and I dropped the line in the water, often pulling it up to see if I had caught anything.
“You’ll know when you catch something. Stop pulling your line out the water. Be patient.” The team leader said to all of us.
Christie and I continued to talk about the squirrel and the bird fight, our anticipated horseback ride, and the marshmallow roast that I was going to miss later that night. Suddenly, I felt a tug at my line. Excitement ran from the back of my neck, down the center of my back as I gripped the fishing pole with both hands.
I caught a fish!” I screamed.
One of the other girls quickly told me that I was lying. I ignored her accusation, knowing that the truth was hooked on my fishing line. Miss Lisa told me to pull my line out of the water very carefully. I slowly rose the pole in the air, lifting the line out of the water, and at the end of the string was a small, orange and white fish, wiggling and flapping its scaly body.
Christie and a few of the other girls clapped and celebrated my catch. I flashed the other girls a wide smile as I boastfully held my fishing pole.
“Good job, Angela.” Miss Lisa said.
“What do I do now?” I asked.
“We’re going to take it off the hook and throw it back in the water.” She informed.
Confusion accosted my smile and I shot Miss Lisa a bewildered look.
“Back in the water?” Christie asked, obviously just as confused as I was.
“Yes, we don’t want the fish to die do we? We have to hurry?” She insisted.
Miss Lisa grabbed my pole from my hand and asked me if I wanted to take the fish off the hook. I looked at the flapping, wet fish and quickly declined.
“I’ll do it.” Christie fearlessly volunteered.
Without any fear, Christie carefully slid the hook out of the fish’s bleeding mouth.
She proudly held the orange and right fish up to give the group a good look at the fish, who was obviously gasping for water. Without any warning, she tossed the fish in the air ahead of us like she was throwing a baseball across a grassy field. The orange and white fish soared in the air until gravity took over, causing it to plunge into the lake and disappear from our sight
“He’s probably for sure dead now.” I laughed and said.
”Why did you do that?” Miss Lisa asked after letting out a horrified gasp.
“You said the fish needed to go back in the water, right?” Christie said with a sheepish grin.
Walking away from us with frustration on her heels, the group leader replied, “Yes, we were going to drop it in the water, not send it flying in the water like a cannonball.” .
Christie and I giggled as we continued to sit on the edge of the pier. I noticed that some of the other girls were sniggling when the team leader wasn’t watching. After about five more minutes of fishing, Miss Lisa blew a whistle and told everyone that the fishing activity was over. I was the only girl in our group to catch a fish.

**Special thanks to Aunt Thelma, Frances, and Shirley for giving me feedback on part one. Stay tuned for part three. I'll post it tomorrow.**

The Confrontation (Part 1 of 3)

2011-11-09T19:38:00.006-06:00

While in the fifth grade, I was afforded the very exciting opportunity to go on a week-long camping trip in East Texas with my classmates. Upon arriving at the campgrounds, I immediately noticed the towering pine trees that guarded each side of the dirt roads, the crystal clear sky, and the strange yet beautiful flowers that grew like vines around the massive trunks of the trees. There was something else that became strangely apparent to me after arriving at the camp. As I cautiously hiked along the muddy trail to the log cabin that I, along with nine other ten year old girls, would call home for the week, it seemed that the clarity in the colors of the leaves and wildflowers was not as defined as I expected them to be. Low hanging branches were discovered only when my face was being scratched up by the bristly leaves or pointy edges of the twigs. My ability to discern dry ground from puddles of muddy water was inexplicably impaired. To say the least, my ability to independently navigate, without incident, had been seemingly altered overnight. However, I didn’t know why.
With good reason, I experienced a great deal of trepidation when traveling throughout the campgrounds. No matter how careful I tried to be, I stumbled into one accident after the other. I was either stepping my brand new, white sneakers into a puddle of murky mud, getting clawed in the face by hanging limbs, or tripping over large stones and fallen branches.
The mystery of why I was having trouble seeing was outright baffling. Fear, confusion, embarrassment, and anger took turns visiting me while I was at the camp. I was scared and concerned for my safety. Likewise, I was embarrassed that I couldn’t manage to take a step without stumbling or losing my balance.
Children being the cruel, little people that they are so capable of morphing into tormented me with their jokes and ridicule. The more they laughed, the more I stumbled, and the more I stumbled, the more they laughed. The kids managed to keep my embarrassment heightened. I grew angry at the children for laughing and taunting me, rather than being concerned. Even my classmates, who knew me all of our school-aged-years, were laughing and making jokes about me the entire trip.
After three days of observing my unusual clumsiness, Miss Tina, the director of the camp, contacted my parents to tell them about the problems that I appeared to have with my sight. My parents did not hesitate to travel to the out-of-town location of the camp to come and rescue their child from whatever was happening.
When my parents arrived, I was a little disappointed that they were there to pick me up, being that later in the morning we were going to get a chance to go horseback riding. I pleaded with my parents to please wait a few hours to allow me to finish the morning activities. My father, who was always a stickler about time when he was traveling outside of Houston, reluctantly agreed.
“Margie and I will go grab something to eat while you ride the horse. And try to be careful. We came to pick you up to take you to see Dr. Jeffrey about your eyes, not to go to the emergency room because you done broke your neck.”
I hugged both of them and offered them a hearty thank you for giving me the chance to go horseback riding for the first time.
Daddy asked Miss Tina where they could find a Denney’s in the area. The nerdy, yet athletic looking leader of the camp pulled out a map from her desk, drew a line from the camp to an intersection on the map with a red marker, and assured him that he wouldn’t get lost.
Before leaving the director’s office, Mama pulled out a purple brush that had thick black bristles rising from it. Being the mother of four girls, she always kept a brush in her purse. She grabbed my face with one hand and started brushing the wavy strands of hair that crawled restlessly out of my pony tail back to a submissive position on my head. She took her hand and rubbed my hair back as she continued to brush.
“Margie, the girl looks alright. Let her go ride this horse she was talking about so we can get back to Houston.”
My mother kept brushing until my hair met her level of satisfaction. When she finished, she adjusted my clothes, rubbed my hair again, and then she looked down into my eyes.
“Promise me you’ll be careful, Ann.”
“Yes, Ma’am. I promise.”
“Yeah, at least wait until we get some more life insurance on you first.” Daddy laughed as he poked me in the shoulder.
“Stop it, Thurman.” Mama said.
Miss Tina left me in the small office as she walked my parents back to their car. All four walls of the office were covered with pictures of elementary school age kids of all races, smiling and waving at the camera. There were several boy scouts and girl scouts posters also hanging on the wall to the left of me. On the wall behind Miss
Tina’s desk was an eight by ten framed picture of a small, ruddy face girl with crystal blue eyes and golden blonde hair pulled into a pony tail on top of her head. She was dressed in a green and white shortset, white socks, and white shoes. She flashed a wide smile as she boastfully held a large, blue ribbon in her right hand. The little girl kind of sort of looked like our always smiling, overly energetic camp director, Miss Tina. I decided I would ask her was she the little girl in the photo when she came back into the office. When Miss Tina returned, I looked at her blue eyes and compared them to the blue eyes of the girl in the picture.
“Is that you?” Pointing my right index finger at the photograph.
“Yep, that’s me. I was ten-years-old in that picture. About your age.” She admitted.
She next announced that she would walk me over to where my group was fishing at the lake in the middle of the campground.
“Fishing?” I asked as I hopped out the wooden office chair.
“Yes, fishing got added to today’s activities since you guys missed it on the second day because of the rain. Let’s go.” Motioning me to follow her out of the air conditioned office back into the clammy, hot outdoors.
I was excited about getting a chance to go fishing and horseback riding. Two firsts in one day was pretty good. I thought. I was so glad Daddy and Mama agreed to let me stay for a few more hours.
When Miss Tina and I were walking to the lake, I was met with the same problems I had been experiencing the three days before. I stumbled over large rocks and broken tree branches. My steps slowed down as I looked down at the ground to make sure my feet wouldn’t continue to betray me. I looked over at Miss Tina, who looked nervous as she intently watched me. Her ocean blue eyes poured with concern and even pity.
“Be careful as we go down this hill up here.” She warned.
The dirt trail narrowed as we trotted down a decline in the ground. I turned my head and looked to each side of me. There were tall trees that stood closely together, making it difficult to see if some wild animal was lurking within the foliage. Suddenly, the largest brown squirrel I had ever seen darted down from one of the husky trees into the middle of the trail directly in front of us. Next, a small, blue bird with gray and white streaks splashed in its wings flew from the same direction and furiously dove its pointy beak into the top of the squirrel’s furry head. The squirrel quickly turned around and took a bold stance to defend itself. The angry bird landed about two feet in front of the squirrel and the two animals squared off.
My eyes popped as I watched the squirrel and bird challenge each other. Even though the squirrel was much larger than the bird, I quickly concluded that the bird definitely had the upper hand, being that the bird could fly. I rested on my heels and watched to see if I was going to be right.
The squirrel jerked his large, muscular body towards the bird, obviously trying to intimidate the small, feathered creature. But the bird didn’t fly away. Instead, the bird locked its tiny pupils on the squirrel and raised its wings in a seething motion, indicating it was ready to attack once again.
Miss Tina stopped and held her slender arm out in front of me to prevent me from walking further down the trail. There was no need for her to worry. I wasn’t going to take a step forward until the path was clear again. I didn’t want the squirrel and bird to realize we were there and then join forces and attack us rather than each other.
Miss Tina pulled me in closer and whispered to me. “The squirrel must’ve invaded the bird’s nest. Mama birds are very protective of their nests. I need to stop them from fighting.”
The camp director, who looked to be in her early twenties, bent over to grab a gray stone from the dusty ground. When she stood erect, her blonde hair swept across her narrow face. Next, she pulled her hair back behind her ears with one hand and tossed the round stone towards the squirrel and the bird, hoping she would startle them and cause their attention to shift off each other.
When the stone hit the ground, the squirrel snapped out of his fight trance and looked at the rock. Suddenly, the bird lifted its small body into the air, swooped down towards the squirrel, and pecked the furry enemy in its head three more times. The squirrel twirled hysterically as he tried to dodge the bird’s air attack, but the bird continued to swoop down and successfully strike the wobbling target. Finally, the bird flew up into the sky and back towards the trees, leaving the squirrel battered and disoriented in the middle of the dirt trail.
“Oh, my God! You think he’s okay?” I asked.
“I’m not sure if it is a he or a she.” She corrected me, rather than answering my question.
As she took a step forward, the squirrel realized we were present and it bolted into the brush within the wooded borders of the trail we were walking on.
“I guess the squirrel is scared we’re going to try to fight it next.” She giggled.
“So, do you think the squirrel will be okay?” I asked again, without the gender description, hoping she would go ahead and answer my question this time around.
“Yeah, it’ll be alright. I bet it won’t mess with another mama bird again.” She declared as she continued on the trail.

I'll post the other two editions of this recollection later this week. Please let me know what you think!**

Blind as a Bat

2011-08-17T09:19:00.003-06:00

In the recent months, I've been spending a lot of time conversing with people that I have known all my life, but didn't really hang out with before now. Thanks to my family reunion, I've developed relationships that I truly cherish and hope to further develop over time.

While hanging with my family, I've noticed how often people use "blind" references to make their point about various things. And interestingly enough, they make these references directly to me when conversing to me, and they say these things while in my presence. Now, here's the thing... I'm not offended by their references, but I do notice them. And for the record, I don’t think they are being mean or malicious. I simply think that they are not used to being around someone that is actually blind.

I know you may be wondering at this point, what is a "blind reference. Here are a few examples and my silent responses to their remarks.

"If I don't have my glasses on, I'm blind as a bat."
Really how blind is a bat? Blinder than me? LOL

"Even Stevie Wonder can see that."
Why are you picking on Stevie? LOL Stevie is likely more capable of "seeing" than you. Seeing has very little to do with the eyes if you ask me.

"Those two are like the blind leading the blind."
Who said that the blind can't lead the blind? Ask a few blind people about that. LOL It is common for the blind to lead the blind. LOL

"Looks like Ray Charles picked out her clothes this morning."
I don't know about Ray Charles, but I pick out my clothes in the morning just fine. Have you seen me lately?

"I can't see a thing."
I'm the one that can't see a thing! LOL

Again, I'm not offended. My skin is thicker than that. However, I do notice when people make references to the blind. And with that being said I feel that people need to consider what they say before they say it.

And what’s really interesting is that these people really have no clue what it means to be blind as a bat or blind as Angela.

Considering the Comfort of the Cactus Random Thought

2011-08-02T21:58:00.002-06:00

Have we assumed that just because the cactus can withstand the rays of the sun, the cactus never grows weary of the heat?
Have we assumed that the needles in the cactus flesh aren’t painful for the cactus itself?
Have we assumed that the cactus is so strong, just because it never leans or looks droopy?
Have we assumed that the cactus is not thirsty, just because it can live off of very little water?
Perhaps we should ask the cactus how it really feels.
Better yet... Perhaps someone should ask me how I really feel.

Random Reflections

2011-06-14T04:20:00.004-06:00

1. I wonder what kind of personality and temperament I would've had if I wasn't introduced to the stress of chronic illness and loss at such an early age. What path would I have taken if disability had mercifully passed over me, rather than forcefully weaving itself into every aspect of my life?

2. I wish I could heal my mother of all her illnesses and pains. She doesn't deserve to endure so much suffering. Oh, how I wish I could make it all better for her. She shouldn't have to wait until she gets to heaven to be alright.

3. I wish I could press the delete button on the mental illness gene that runs in my family. I wish I could get rid of the fat gene too. :) Bad genes are one of those unfair aspects of living.

4. I need some rest.

5. I need some rest.

6. Did I say I need some rest already? LOL

7. So far, summer school is good this year. No complaints as the student or the teacher.

8. I'm trying something different with my hair. It's a style I've never tried before in my life. I think I like it already. Yay! This style will get me through the first two summer months. By the time my family reunion comes in August, I'll be back to the usual.

9. I wonder if I'm aging well, or do I look a mess?

10. I hate that I have to pay home owner's association fees.

The Skin I'm In

2011-03-06T18:09:00.003-06:00

Yesterday, while speaking on a panel discussion at a conference for the blind and visually impaired, I suggested that one of the ways a person can adjust to their physical impairment is by learning to love every part of oneself, including the parts that don't work so good or so fast. I never thought I would get to this point, but I'm learning to be okay with all of who I am. I am blind. And it's all good! I will never ever apologize for this skin I'm in. So, I depart from the shame and run towards the light of self-love and liberation.

If I have so much to say, why am I not saying it?

2011-02-14T00:01:00.003-06:00

There is no doubt that I've had plenty of introspections, ideas, and experiences that I've could've written about in the name of blogging. So, why haven't I? Hmm... Not sure... If nothing else, I could've been using this platform to unload, to unburden myself of some of the weight I'm carrying. But instead, I've stayed silent. Maybe I just don't have the energy to share some of the things I've been going through lately.

So, I apologize to my faithful readers. You come by and visit, even though I haven't posted anything in a while. Again, I apologize to you.

Well, if nothing else, I've certainly had some random reflections. So, keeping with my tradition of posting my random reflections when I have nothing to say, or when I have something to say, but no energy to say it.... Here goes...

Wait a minute... Hold on... I just had a thought...

Instead of me writing about my random reflections, which are not actually all that random, I'm going to save those things for "real" blog entries for the upcoming weeks.

Here's some of the topics you can look forward to.

1. The Blind Card
2. The Beautiful Cyclops
3. The Real Reason I Can't Swim

Alright... Meet you back here in a couple days.

Many blessings!
Angela

The Light

2011-01-16T01:40:00.004-06:00

I’ve been under stress since I was eight-years-old. So, I’m pretty good at stress management. Most people would crumble under the amount of stress that I’ve been under in the last 25-years. However, I’ve managed to stay on top. And it’s not because I’m so strong or so smart. It’s mainly because I’ve always been open to the notion that light can drive out the fear and anxiety that darkness brings.

Today, I’m surrounded by darkness. And I’m not talking about visual darkness. I’m talking about the darkness that comes when life circumstances are so gloomy and dark that it’s hard to find hope and encouragement. Right now, I’m battling fear, worry, and anxiety. However, I’m calling for the light to strike the darkness and drive the negative feelings away. I’m commanding the light to overtake the darkness and allow me to see God in all of this that I’m going through.

**God, I know you’re still here with me. But it would do my heart well to see you right now. God, Please shine your light and drive the darkness away so that I might see your hand at work in this situation.

I know I haven’t told you a lot lately, but I do love you beyond human measure. And my heart is yours. I place my life in your capable and loving hands.

Your child,

Angela**

The Tiny Giant (Part 1 of 4)

2011-01-02T00:22:00.005-06:00

I’ve been hearing people say that 2011 is the beginning of a new decade. That idea got me to thinking… Hmmm… Is it really the beginning of a new decade, or was last year the beginning of a new decade?
Okay… Let’s think about this together… When we flipped from 1999 to 2000, people were calling that the new millennia. But was it? I’m thinking that the year 2000 was the last year of that particular century. Were we counting from 0 to 99 or 1 to 100?
Well if we were counting from 0 to 99, last year was the beginning of this particular decade, not this year… Yeah, I know that’s a little quirky and a bit technical… LOL My brain can be a little weird at times.
If you have some ideas on this let me know.

Okay… On to the good stuff…

Well, every since 2000 rolled in, my life took on a different look and texture than it had been before the start of the so called new millennia”. It was the first week of 2000 that I entered full time employment. It was the first year that I started my own business. It was the first year that I started feeling like a woman. I was 25 then. I was young and ready to take on the world! And I had proof that I could conquer the world. Just two years before the turn of the so called “new century”, I had successfully matriculated through a hellish college experience. So, I was convinced I could do any task that was placed before me.

Now, that I’m well beyond 25, I realize how much of a child I really was. Yeah, I was mature for my age, but I was so young, so naive, so inexperienced, so inspired to believe that there was nothing that could stop me from achieving my personal best. Now that I look back on the year 2000, I realize how innocent, pure, unchaste, and relentless I was. I had unbendable hope, defiant faith, and unwavering determination. Nothing… And I mean nothing was going to stop me.

Little did I know that in 2002, I would be introduced to a pervading force that was so strong, so bold, so fierce, and so vicious, that even the super, courageous, always achieving, blind girl would be knocked flat on her face, with no clue if she had the tools to overcome the towering giant. I was completely clueless that there was a set of circumstances that could leave me stammering and fumbling in the dark more than my blindness had.

However, on the night of August 2, 2002, a tiny, but massive giant marched upon my village and crushed the hut I was so comfortably living in. Without any detectable warning, the unforgiving giant traveled through my mother’s veins up to her brain and reeked havoc on a woman that was thought of as a saint by so many. On That unforgettable Friday night, a blood clot the size of a tiny pencil lead suffocated a major portion of my mother’s brain. She suffered a massive stroke . And there is no doubt that stroke changed the course of her life, as well as the lives of her daughters.

The night of August 2, 2002, I began to learn that a stroke was much more than a blood clot that attacks the brain. Over the last 8 years, I've learned that tiny clot not only kills brain cells, it kills and disables the family structure, stability, and direction.

**To be continued…**

(Update on the new millennia thing… I found out that there is a debate when the new millennia actually began. So, I’m on to an idea that’s already up in the air. So, for the record, it is unclear if 2010 or 2011 was the beginning of the new decade. But far as I’m concerned, it doesn’t really matter. I’m just glad for the new year.)

Happy New Year!!!!!

2011-01-01T07:39:00.002-06:00

I'd like to wish all of my readers a Happy New Year!!!!!

I hope that this year brings you great success and triumph!!!!!

Stay tuned for my 2010 reflections and my 2011 goals. I'll post them within the next few days. It's going to be good!!!!

Love and peace to you!

Angela L. Braden

A CHRISTMAS GIFT OF MUSIC TO ALL OF MY READERS

2010-12-23T11:42:00.000-06:00

Here's a beautiful gift of music that I would like to share with all of my readers. It is a beautiful rendition of "O' Come All Ye Faithful", played by the marvelously talented, Chad Brawley. Enjoy!

Going Blind, The Movie

2010-12-10T05:22:00.005-06:00

A few moments ago, I read an article about a documentary that showcases the lives of individuals that have experienced sight loss. It seems very interesting, insightful, and educational!!!!! Although I've only viewed the trailer, I thought I would still go ahead and recommend it to you guys. I think it would be worth our while to support this film.

The documentary is entitled, Going Blind. You can watch the trailer, as well as purchase the video here.

Spread the word and. Let me know what you think of the film.

Many blessings!
Angela Braden

Would I want to live forever? Hmm...

2010-12-03T01:05:00.001-06:00

I used to shutter at the idea of dying. I hated that the only guarantee of life was that we, all of us, including myself, would one day have to die. However, as I've matured, and as I better understand what it means to live and live free, I am certain that I don't want to live forever.

As we live, we are surely dying slowly. Our brain cells are dying. Our bones are thinning. Our heart is growing more tired. Our veins are stiffening. Our senses are fading. And as all of those natural body changes are occurring, disabilities, illnesses, and impairments are sure to come.

Tonight, I told my friend to make sure that they respected my DNR if I was to suffer cardiac arrest or a stroke that clearly damaged my brain. I told them that living with one disability has been hard enough these 25 years, even though I've learned to live, love, and laugh, despite my disability. But the idea of adding to my disabilities as an lonely, sick, elderly woman would certainly be more than I desire to live with. **Just keeping it real.**

I asked her to understand that I didn't want to be a burden on anyone. And since I am not married, and I do not have any children, I would certainly become the responsibility of some family member or friend that would soon grow weary of taking care of me. I am sure I would be placed in some government funded nursing home, fully staffed with rude, lazy, badly trained workers, with no one to come and make sure that I am being cared for properly.

So, to get to my point... I do not want to live forever, especially if my body has already died.

Instead of crying over my lifeless body, trying to figure out if you should pull the plug or not, let me go ahead and get to heaven so that I can find that tree I've been hearing about since I was akid. I got a leaf to pluck in glory!!!!!! LOL

Angela Braden

Happy Thanksgiving to my NuVision Family!!!

2010-11-24T03:53:00.002-06:00

I just wanted to take some time to wish all of my wonderful readers a Happy Thanksgiving!!!!!!!

I'm thankful for alot this season!!!!! One of the things I'm certainly thankful for is my faithful readers that drive by my spot on the world wide web. I appreciate you for taking time out of your schedule to support NuVision for a NuDay!!!!!!!

I pray you enjoy the holiday season!!!!!!! Eat well, drink well, and love well!!!!!!!! And whatever you do, look within to find the vision that God has deposited in your heart. He placed it there for you to see your greatest potential!!!!!!

Many blessings to you!
Angela L. Braden

Unfixable

2010-10-26T10:58:00.001-06:00

The other day, my sister, Paula and her kids, took me to the airport. As we were riding, my nephew, Joseph, leaned up from his seat to where I was sitting in the front-passenger-seat. Out of the blue, he asked me, “Can doctors fix blind people?”

I didn’t know what to say. I knew what my nephew was really thinking. He wanted to know if there was any help for his blind auntie. At that very moment, I didn’t have the heart to tell him that so far the doctors haven’t been able to “fix” blind people that have my specific eye condition.

I quickly started to figure that no matter what, Joseph deserved to know the truth about me and my unfixable, completely damaged optic nerves. I took a deep breath and broke the bad news to him. “As of right now, there’s nothing the doctors can do to help Auntie.”

“That’s a shame.” He quickly replied. He went on to say that doctors needed to find some kind of way to fix blind people. He continued by telling me, his blind aunt, that being blind was such a sad thing to be in this world.

I silently wondered what I had done or not done to make my nine-year-old nephew think that being blind was such a sad thing to be. Although being blind is pretty annoying, I try to live my life in a way that the kids don’t see me as a helpless, hopeless, sad, little lamb.

But does Joseph really see me that way? Or is he now old enough to realize that not having any sight really does significantly impact most of what I do, in addition to what I desire to do. Maybe Joseph has taken notice how much my blindness has inconvenienced me when it’s time to go somewhere. Perhaps Joseph has just now started to discover how different I am from all of the other women in his life. Could it be that Joseph is now processing what I already know, but didn’t want him to know; that being blind honestly sucks.

Joseph leaned up closer to my face. I could feel his soft cheek on my ear. He touched my shoulder with his little man hand and firmly, yet compassionately said to me, “Everything is going to be alright.”

I nearly cried at that moment. I was comforted by my Joseph’s blossoming compassion for his auntie. A drape of love had just been placed around my shoulders by this young child. Instead of allowing tears to roll from my unfixable eyes, I turned and kissed his handsome face and reassured him that everything would indeed be alright.

**At this point, I don’t have a lot of wealth to leave to the kids when I depart this current life. So, I write these narratives to offer them a treasure of love and memories to cherish through their lives. They are truly my motivation for writing.**

That's What Friends Are For

2010-10-12T11:04:00.004-06:00

To all of my readers:

Yes, I know that this blog is supposed to be dedicated to showcasing my experiences as a blind woman. However, there are a few times that I drive down a different road. Today, I'm going to use my blog to recommend that you guys check out the wonderful, the fantastic, the soulful, the talented, jazz bassist, Joseph Toliver. He's one of my best friends!!!!!! To learn more about his music and to purchase a CD, check out his website. http://www.josephtoliver.com

His project is being sold on Amazon and Itunes for digital download. Do yourself a favor and add Joseph Toliver to your music library. I wouldn't ask you to do anything I haven't already done. I bought the project today!!!!

Let me know what you think.

Angie B.

My Random Reflections for the Week

2010-09-04T10:57:00.003-06:00

These are my very random reflections.

1. This week, I've been working out twice a day, and I've cut back in my diet. Instead of losing weight, I gained two pounds. I'm so confused!!!!! I'm trying not to get discouraged, but this weight issue I have is on my dog on nerves.

2. My soon to be seven-year-old niece, Jasmine, just came upstairs and asked me if I was gone to the store yet. I told her that I left five minutes ago. She and I both chuckled. LOL Yes, I know... We're silly! I love Jasmine!!!!!!

3. I just found out that I'm in the service area for our city's ADA metro service. I'm so excited!!!!!!! Now, I'll be able to move around in the city like I used to. I can't wait to get going. I'm sure I'll have plenty stories to tell once I start being more mobile.

4. I'm meeting so many new family members as we are gathering to plan our grand reunion. I'm amazed how most of them don't act shocked when they find out that I'm blind. Is it because we're all getting older, wiser, and more mature? Or is it because society's views on the disabled is improving? Hmm... Good question...

5. Even though I'm not losing weight, I do appreciate the fact that I'm doing my heart a favor by riding my bike. I know my body is glad to be moving. And I know that it will render good results for me in the long run.

6. In less than one month, my financial situation will improve. I can't wait!!!!!

7. My site for my speaking and training business is not completely finished. However, I want to invite you to take a look at it. http://www.bradenspeaks.com
By the way... If you would like to book me to speak at an upcoming event, by all means, contact me!!!!!!!!

8. I'm looking forward to hanging with my girls in LA in December. Yes, I know that's three months away. That's how much I'm looking forward to it!!!!!

"Vision Impairment: Racial & Ethnic Differences" I thought I would share this with my readers.

2010-08-28T08:50:00.004-06:00

**I grabbed this article from the Lighthouse International's website. Even though most of the data is over 10 years old, I thought I would still share. I seriously doubt if these disparities have disappeared since the time these stats were recorded.**

•Based on findings from The Lighthouse National Survey on Vision Loss (The Lighthouse Inc., 1995), among persons age 45 and older, those who report some form of vision problem are more likely to be non-Caucasian (23%) in comparison to those who report no vision impairment (17%).

•African-Americans have a higher rate of legal blindness than Caucasians, but much of this difference may be due to poor access to appropriate eye care services (Prevent Blindness America, 1994, p.3).

•The Baltimore Eye Survey found that the overall age-adjusted rates of visual impairment among African-Americans was twice that of whites (Tielsch, Sommer, Witt, Katz, & Royall, 1990).

•Data from the 1991-92 Survey of Income and Program Participation indicate that a higher proportion of African-Americans have visual impairments than do Caucasians. Although African-Americans comprise 12% of the U.S. population, among persons with visual impairments 18% are African-Americans and among those with a severe visual impairment 21% are African-Americans (Schmeidler & Halfmann, 1998a, p.539).

•The Los Angeles Latino Eye Study (LALES) found that the rates of vision impairment in Latinos are higher than those reported in Whites and comparable to those reported in Blacks (National Eye Institute, 2004).

Glaucoma

•The overall prevalence of open-angle glaucoma among Latinos in the Los Angeles Latino Eye Study (LALES) was nearly five percent. This is higher than the rate reported for Whites and similar to that for Blacks in this country (National Eye Institute, 2004).

•Based on findings from the Baltimore Eye Survey, the prevalence of blindness due to glaucoma is 4 to 6 times higher among African-Americans than Caucasians (Tielsch, Sommer, Witt, Katz, & Royall, 1990).

•Almost 4% of African-Americans (409,643) (age 40 and over) are reported to have glaucoma as compared to about 1.7% of Caucasians (1.6 million) and 1.5% of Hispanics (131,654) (Prevent Blindness America, 2002).

•Research on a population-based sample found that glaucoma is the leading cause of blindness among Hispanics (Rodriguez, 2002).

Diabetic Retinopathy

•The Los Angeles Latino Eye Study (LALES) found that almost one-half of all study participants with diabetes-almost a quarter of the LALES population-had some signs of diabetic retinopathy. Latinos had a higher rate of more severe vision-threatening diabetic retinopathy than Whites (National Eye Institute, 2004).

•According to Prevent Blindness America (2002), before age 40, diabetic retinopathy affects Caucasians more frequently than other races, however Hispanics are the most commonly affected in later decades.

•Mexican Americans are almost twice as likely and non-Hispanic blacks are almost 50% as likely to develop diabetic retinopathy as non-Hispanic whites (American Diabetes Association, n.d., b).

Macular Degeneration

•The Los Angeles Latino Eye Study (LALES) found that while Latinos had the early signs of AMD at rates comparable to Whites, the rates of advanced AMD were lower than seen in Whites and comparable to Blacks (National Eye Institute, 2004).

•Age-specific prevalence rates of age-related macular degeneration are initially comparable between races, however advance more significantly for Caucasians after age 75 (Prevent Blindness America, 2002, p.18).

22 Random Facts About Angie (Part 1 of 2)

2010-08-25T09:25:00.004-06:00

1. I'm a proud Cancer. I know that many Christian organizations suggest that Astrological signs are not of God. However, I have found that many of the characteristics of individuals born in a certain month match the description of the characteristics of the signs. I don't know if there is a science to Astrology. However, I do believe that there is some truth to it.

2. Although I've traveled from the left to the right coast, I've never been outside of the 48 connected states. So, here's a freebee. I've never been on a cruise.

3. I was diagnosed with Uveitis when I was eight years old. Two years later, I was diagnosed with Glaucoma.

4. I used to have to get steroid shots in my eyes to treat the Uveitis.

5. My daddy used to give me $20 to motivate me to bravely sit still while the doctor was lowering the needle into my eyeball.

6. I refuse to drink tap water. Yeah, I know that they say the water in many of the plastic bottles come from tap. I guess it's just a mental thing.

7. When I was a child, I prided myself in having beautiful cursive writing skills. Both of my parents print and write in cursive beautifully.

8. I love watching old shows like, Three's Company, The Jeffersons, A Different World, The Cosby Show, and Good Times. I guess it's because I remember how the people looked that are on the show. It's like I'm actually still "watching" the shows, even though I can't see anymore.

9. I hate the taste of Dr. Pepper, raw celery, raw onion, and coconut.

10. I've worn the same size shoe since I was 12-years-old. If you're interested in buying me a pair of shoes, you should know that it is a size 7.

11. I hate it when people call my cane a stick.

What the heck is acting blind?

2010-08-12T23:22:00.005-06:00

Earlier this week, I visited the doctor’s office to get what is supposed to be an annual physical for the first time in three years. Because the medical group that I’ve been using since I’ve been an adult stopped taking my health insurance, I was forced to find a new stranger to conduct my well woman’s exam. Oh well… I guess using a stranger to probe your private space keeps it impersonal. So, I guess this new doctor situation can work for me.

After signing in at the front desk, I sat down in the waiting area with my sister, Kim. While we were waiting, Kim assisted me in filling out the medical history paperwork the docs always give you when you’re a new patient.

First of all, I’m so glad that no one else was in the waiting area. I hate telling whoever I’m with all of my medical history in front of others. There’s no privacy in that. Secondly, I actually sometimes hate having to tell my sister or whoever I’m with certain things to help them answer the questions on the questionnaire. What if there’s something quite personal that I want to keep a secret? My personal business is being exposed to others, simply because I can’t read and write print. They need to find some kind of way to allow the patient to fill out those forms with one of the staff or through electronic means. **My two pennies on that…**

Well, moving on… The above is really not the purpose of this blog post.

After filling out the paperwork, the nurse called me to come to the back. She asked me all those basic screening questions, and then left me to wait for the doctor.

Five to ten minutes passed; then this very friendly female doctor entered the room and shook my hand. I believe that’s when she noticed I couldn’t see. It was the way she paused and glared down at me before saying anything else.

She turned to start reading some of my information on the computer. Then she turned around and asked me what was the extent of my blindness. I told her that my eyesight was completely gone due to an awful bout with Glaucoma.

She then looked at me and said, “Wow. You don’t act blind at all. That’s great.”

I was like, “Oh really?”

I couldn’t believe that this doctor, a highly educated, professional, modern American woman, would say such a thing.

“I don’t act blind? How does a blind person act?” I silently wondered.

I guess the fake smile on my face wasn’t convincing. She retracted her comment and said, “Well, how does a person act blind anyway? I’m just saying you don’t act like you can’t see.”

“Oh that’s better, doc! I don’t act blind. I just don’t act like someone that can’t see. Hmm...” I thought

You can imagine how amazed she was when she found out more about me. She nearly fell out of her chair when I told her that I am an adjunct prof at a college.

“Oh, so you’ve gone to college and everything? Very good! You've done very well.”

After she finished conducting my medical interview, the impressed doctor shook my hand and told me how proud she was of me. For what it was worth, I accepted her sincere praise with a bashful smile and a modest thank you.

She politely handed me the robe I was supposed to put on after taking my clothes off. She hesitated a little after that. I was wondering if she wanted to watch me undress. Not in a perverted way, but as someone that was curious about how a blind person actually does things, such as dressing and undressing. After I stood and waited, without taking my clothes off, she exited the room to give me some privacy.

Despite how uncomfortable she made me feel about being blind, I will be seeing this doctor again. She gave me the most comfortable physical I ever had. LOL I can deal with a lack of understanding of the blind as long as you don’t hurt me when you’re examining me.

To read more entries from Angela Braden's personal diary, visit her award winning blog, NuVision for a NuDay.

You should check this out!!!! A Possible Opportunity to be Published

2010-08-09T04:49:00.004-06:00

Call for Proposals: Disability in America: Voices of a New Generation

Ari Ne’eman and Stacey Milbern, Co-Editors

Deadline: January 15, 2011

This year, the disability community is celebrating the 20th anniversary of the passage of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), civil rights law that protects the rights of disabled people.
Growing up in a post-ADA America has meant that many of us have had access to more opportunities than previous generations. We know if we had been born in 1967 instead of 1987 our lives would look completely different. We know the history of our people is tainted by eugenics, ableism, lack of access and the sting of low expectations. We recognize the work that has been done by disability movements over the last century to make the current lives we live possible. We are proud to be members of this vibrant, breathing, community.

Although the struggle continues, we recognize that the realities of disabled people look vastly different in many ways. With this in mind, we are requesting proposals for chapters in a book-length anthology to document this legacy and record the stories of disabled young people
talking about what it is to grow up with a disability in this day and age.

Part One of our anthology will attempt to explore how a new generation experiences these age old challenges, affording a chance to assess how far we have really come. Part Two of our anthology asks disabled young people to identify what our struggle looks like now.

We’re seeking a diversity of perspectives and topics. A few questions we pose as food for thought:
What does it look like to navigate the medical system?
What is it like trying to find and keep a job as a young person with a disability today?
How are mental health challenges and psychiatric impairments approached by family members?
Do students still have to choose between support and inclusion?
What is the impact of pity and charity?
How do we survive the traumas we experience by people who say they are helping us, whether this is in schools, in doctor’s offices, our places of worship, or within our support systems?
How do people with less visible disabilities choose whether or not to disclose?
How has the nature of “passing” changed or not changed?
How do we fight eugenics, with its many faces?
How do we work with personal assistant services and our support systems?
How is disability portrayed differently in American society?
How are media, and pop culture representations of disability viewed by the new generation of young people with disabilities?
What do our relationships and sex lives look like?
How do we find community?

We are seeking creative non-fiction essays from young people with disabilities ages 13-30 (some flexibility will be available for compelling submissions from individuals slightly outside our preferred age range). People with all types of disabilities are welcome to submit. Speaking from personal experience is strongly encouraged. The intent of this project is to use personal voices to capture the experience of the new generation of young people with disabilities.

Submissions should range from 2,000 to 5,000 words. Please include your address, phone number, e-mail address and a short bio on the manuscript.

Proposals are due by e-mail to voicesoftheadageneration@gmail.com to January 15, 2011 but we encourage and will consider for approval early submissions. Please e-mail co-editors Stacey Milbern and Ari Ne’eman at voicesoftheadageneration@gmail.com with questions.

**I thought the above may be of some interest to some of my readers. I encourage you to consider submitting your story/perspective. I know I plan to submit several proposals. Good luck!**

This Truly Doesn't Happen Often

2010-08-06T23:29:00.003-06:00

When I have an awful experience, I quickly try to search through the rubble and find whatever life lesson that may have come along with the bad experience. Then I try to lock the negative memory away in the dungeon of my ever-expansive castle of personal memories. I'm not a person that likes to relive the experience by thinking about the memory over and over again. So, because I can't forever get rid of the memory, I try to lock it away and handcuff it to a part of my brain that is seldom visited. Last week, I had one of those experiences that created a memory that will for sure get stored in that cold, dark dungeon in my head.

Unfortunately, I can't go into detail here on my blog. What I witnessed is now a legal issue. Perhaps once it's resolved, I will write about it in detail. But until then, I will say that it was perhaps one of the most horrific experiences of my 30+ years.

The memory of this experience is so strong. All of my available senses participated in capturing this event. The only thing that stopped me from fully experiencing the heinous moment was my blindness. Because I could not see, I've been spared of having a visual memory of this experience.

Thank God!

I never would've thought I would've said that.

Here's what's interesting. Because I'm the one that couldn't see the various parts of the ordeal, I'm the one that focuses on all of the other vivid experiences that were perceived with the other four senses. I remember the hideous smell in the hot, moist air. I remember the needle poking pain of the tiny ants biting my feet as we stood in the soggy grass. I remember the taste of my tears and sweat as they rolled down my face to the corners of my mouth. I remember all the sounds that circled us as we stood, trapped in the middle of this mind blowing experience.

Everyone else in my family mostly speaks of what they saw. I'm haunted by what I heard, tasted, felt, and smelled. And unfortunately, the memory is still so fresh.

I'm so glad that these blind eyes of mine benefited me that day by making it impossible to have a visual memory of July 28, 2010.
**applauding for the broken eyes**
My blind eyes did me a favor this one time.

ALB

****

To read more entries from Angela's personal diary, feel free to visit her award winning blog!
http://www.nuvisionforanuday.blogspot.com

Happy 20th Birthday to the Americans with Disabilities Act!!!!!!

2010-07-26T07:52:00.001-06:00

Today, July 26, 2010, is the 20th anniversary of the Americans with Disability Act!!!!! I, along with 54 million Americans with disabilities, are benefitting from the allowances and protections brought forth by this act. I applaud President George H. W. Bush and Congress for passing such important legislation!!!!!!!

No, the ADA didn't erase discrimination, prejudice, and barriers completely. However, it for sure created possibilities that were impossible in the lives of Americans with physical and psychological disabilities. Because of the ADA, people with disabilities can get an equal education, access public transportation, and stay at any hotel, among other personal freedoms.

It is my prayer that this country continues to embrace legislation that would further create barrier free opportunities for the disabled population.

It is also my prayer that people will work hard to decrease their negative ideas and opinions about people with disabilities. As with any population of individuals in a particular subculture, it is imperative that the people outside of the subculture learn to celebrate the diversities present in the differing population. And people within that population need to teach others about their culture, with the hope that the knowledge will discourage prejudice and discrimination, while encouraging inclusion and acceptance.

This is exactly why I maintain this blog. I want the individuals that stumble upon NuVision for a NuDay to know that people with disabilities have stories to tell, have an opinion about various issues, hope to build a bright future, and desire to excel in all aspects of their life.

Happy Birthday ADA!!!!!!!!!!!

Angela L. Braden

"I now lift this pen to sign this Americans with [Disabilities] Act and say let the shameful wall of exclusion finally come tumbling down." President George H. W. Bush

"You can't see anything?"

2010-07-22T00:37:00.002-06:00

For whatever reason, people are often shocked when they learn that I am completely blind. They seem to find it unbelievable that I can't see anything at all. After talking with me about my blindness, there are some that work up the nerve to ask me the one question I get asked the most.

"You can't see anything?"

Yeah, that's the most popular question that I get asked by curious individuals that have encountered yours truly.

Well, here's the answer for any of you that have wondered, but have not had the nerve to ask.

I cannot see anything at all. I cannot see shapes, colors, hands waving in my face, shadows, artificial light, sunlight, or a flashlight shining right into my eyeball. I haven't seen the aforementioned and anything else since the spring of 1994.

If you have anything else you would like to ask, go for it. If it's within reason, I'll answer. LOL

Have a great weekend!!!!!!!!

Angie B.

My Super Power (Revisited)

2010-07-11T22:39:00.002-06:00

I can’t number the times that someone asked me, suggested, or even outright insisted that a blind person’s hearing is better than a sighted person’s ability to hear. Well, maybe for some blind people. But for me, I don’t think I’m able to hear any better than I did before I lost my sight. I’ve just learned to use my hearing more effectively.

When you are blind, you must, make good use of the other senses you are left with. Well, if you want to be successful as a blind person you must make good use of those other senses.

Likewise, you must tap into the greatest power that a human has--the mind. Do I have super powers? You darn right I do. It’s my mind. And the other 4 senses I’m left with undergird the power of my mind.

Getting back to hearing… The other day, my love, my doll, my niece, Jasmine, was sitting upstairs with me in the gameroom watching television. She was watching the Cartoon Network. I was busy on the computer, doing whatever it is I find myself doing on the computer. And what did I hear? The sound of a cartoon episode that I will never forget… There were no words, just the sound of music coming from the television speakers.

I asked Jasmine was she watching Tom and Jerry. She said, “Yeah.” I knew it… Then my next question was, “Are those the ants marching at the picnic?” “yes.”, she replied. I was right again.

It was amazing to me that the sound of that particular Tom and Jerry episode has stuck with me all these years. How many years? More than 20… The mind is something else. I can see those ants in my head as if I had just seen that particular episode just yesterday.

I’m so thankful to God that I got a chance to see when I was a little girl. The visual images of so many experiences are burned into the walls of my memory. I’m so glad that I remember the color red, the beauty of the ocean waters, the magic of electricity falling from the sky to the earth, the image of a tiny ant carrying a bread crumb, 5 times its size, the brightness of the sun, a sparkling diamond, a bald eagle soaring in the sky, The smiling faces of the people who stood on the ground as I was flying through the sky on a wild roller coaster, flames reaching for the sky as it consumed a burning house, perfect cursive writing, beautiful, exotic animals at the Houston Zoo, and the darkness of the night sky. And that’s only mentioning a few of my visual memories…

Although I wish that I will be able to see again in my lifetime, I’m thankful that I have my other senses. I’m also thankful that I have my mind. I don’t take it for granted. My mind is my super power. I’m able to choose, daydream, remember, analyze, love, influence, survive, and create thanks to the most valuable gift that God gave me, my mind.

Thank you Lord for such a fantastic gift!

**Written and Previously Posted: April 6, 2007**

A Brother's Arm (Revisited)

2010-06-27T09:19:00.001-06:00

Most people would say that I have bad luck. But I choose not to look at my circumstances that way. I see them as challenges, obstacles to overcome, unfamiliar territory that God must have thought I needed to discover and conquer. I trust that all of my life experiences, the good ones and the ones that didn’t feel so good, were God’s way of teaching me something I needed to know.

My last semester in college, God must have been trying to put me in a crash course of some wild, highly complicated science of surviving a crises. Here I was, trying to get out of college as soon as possible. I was taking twenty hours, and all of my teachers acted as if they had all teamed up and decided that each of them were going to shove as much work on me as possible. But I was up for the challenge. I had already endured four tough years at University of North Texas. Why were the years so tough? Well, being totally blind probably had a little to do with it. But I didn’t let that stop me. I had one more semester before I would be walking across the stage to receive my bachelors degree.

Everything was going smoothly, that is, until I slipped off the side of a sidewalk and cracked the bone in my ankle. When I heard the bone that helped my left leg balance on my left foot snap, I panicked. I knew that this broken bone was going to possibly throw a monkey wrench in my goal to graduate. I thought to myself, “How in God’s name will I use a cane for the blind and use crutches to get to class?? This was absolutely great. I was already blind. Now here I was, in the middle of the semester, blind and crippled. I started to ponder the possibility of not graduating. I guess this would be yet another time that people would probably say that my buddy, bad luck, had thrown me another party. But I was determined to vacuum up the confetti and pop all of the balloons. I was going to crash this party. I was going to graduate on time.

One of my brothers on campus… Well, he’s not my birth brother. But that’s how I referred to Dhati. He was one of the few men in my life that I felt close enough, trusted, enough, fought enough, forgave enough, and loved enough to call my brother. He did what any good brother would do. This strong, chocolate college football star offered to give me what I never expected him or anyone for that matter to give. He offered to help me get to all of my classes until I got strong enough to walk on my own. He knew that it would be hard for me to hold a white cane in front of me and grip crutches with each of my hands. I would have to grow another arm to do that. But now I did have another arm, my brother’s arm.

Every day, Dhati would knock at my door with his strong fist and tell me to hurry. Even though he seemed to be a little impatient, I didn’t mind. He was doing more than I could thank him for doing. He helped me get to class, so that I could walk to the stage that I longed to cross, the stage that I did cross. I graduated on time, just as I hoped to do.

Dhati reached out his hand and offered his arm to help hold up his sister, just as a brother should do. I knew in my heart that this man would be my brother for life. I can still fill his arm of love holding me up and helping me get to my various stages of success.

**Dhati,

It’s been years since you and I have talked. But I never forget about what you gave to me. Thank you for helping me cross one of the most important stages in my life. I don’t take it for granted.

Love,

Angela Braden**

Written and Previously Posted-July 2007

Forever? (Revisited)

2010-06-23T14:24:00.002-06:00

Last night, my darling, Jasmine, walked over to me, lifted herself up, and plopped her little body into my ever-available lap. She rested her head on my chest and asked me a question that probably has been lingering in her head for at least a few minutes, which is a long time when looking at the attention span of a five-year-old.

"Ann, are you going to be blind forever?"

The word "forever" rang loudly in my head. I didn't quite know what to say. "Forever is such a long time." I thought. And the idea of admitting that my blindness could be sticking around forever was a bit overwhelming at that particular moment.

I quickly thought, "What do I tell her?" If I say yes, I would basically be telling the truth. Well, at least the doctor's version of the truth... But saying yes is surrendering to the condition, and signaling to the atmosphere and perhaps God that I don't have enough faith to believe that I will see again.

The truth is that I absolutely want to see again. And I would do anything, and I mean anything to get that chance. But to be quite honest, I think that I am at a place that I honestly believe that the chances of seeing again are slim to none. But I haven't always felt this way.

When I first started losing my sight, my folks used to drag me to every healing crusade, revival, and conference that was being held in the city. My aunts would recommend certain preachers that they believed had the gift of healing to my Mama. And my mama would take me to each of them, hoping that the Lord would touch her baby and give her sight back. And I was hoping too.

So, it didn't matter to me how many prayer lines I needed to stand in, how much blessed oil needed to be splashed on my forehead, how many times I needed to turn around in a circle, and how many meals I had to fast from...I wanted to see again. And I believed that God could do it. And I really thought that believing that He could do it meant that He would do it.

But with each passing year, the Glaucoma that was ravishing my eye continued to get worse, and my sight continued to fade. By the time I was thirteen-years-old, my right eye was completely blind. And the visual acuity in the left eye was so bad that I could not walk in unfamiliar territories without sighted assistance. But I didn’t stop believing though. I continued to fast, pray, anoint my own head with oil, get prayer from the elders, call prayer lines, quote scriptures, and declare the victory over my blindness.

But to no avail, despite 14 surgeries and my unwavering faith in God, I lost all of my functional vision my senior year in high school. I only had light perception in my left eye. But no matter how dark it was, I continued to fast and pray. I refused to give up.

Two years later, the tiny bit of sight that I had left to let me know if the sun had rose in the morning had left me. And I was left in total darkness and complete despair. My faith was shattered, and I begin to wonder if believing and expecting a healing was handicapping my ability to “see” what God truly wanted for my life.

After a lot of aching and pain, I realized that I saw God as a healer and not a sustainer. I believed that He could heal me. But strangely enough, I didn’t believe that He could make life with blindness be alright.

Huge leap from then to now…

I do believe that God can heal. But I refuse to spend too much time dreaming about the day that Angie possibly gets her sight back. Instead, I spend my time trying to figure out how I can trust God to see what it is I’m supposed to be looking at.

So, back to Jasmine's profound question... After allowing memories of pain, disappointment, and sadness rush through my head, I took a deep breath and with confidence, I told Jasmine that yes, her aunt will probably be blind forever. And that it is truly okay.

**Initially Written and Posted December 2008**

2010-06-13T21:46:00.003-06:00

This is perhaps my shortest post I've ever posted on my blog. I just felt compelled to share a lil' something-something I wrote as my status update on Facebook. This is short, but it says volumes about who I really am.
Blessings!
AB

"I'm a barrel of imperfection, a wardrobe of flaws, a garden of conflicts, an ocean of frailty, and a coppice of ambiguity. When you blend all of that with love and faith in God, I become full of amazing potential to become perfect and beautiful in Him.:

See, told you it was short and sweet!

My Random Thoughts About Very Specific Things

2010-06-09T23:21:00.003-06:00

Every now and then, I post an edition of my "random thoughts" on my blog. I usually do that when I have something to say, but my thoughts are so all over the place, it's hard to write one complete post about one subject. So, here I am tonight, all over the place, but still with something to say. So, these are my random thoughts.**

1. A friend of mine asked me if I wear gloves when I wash dishes. I told him that I prefer not to wear gloves when I'm doing certain tasks, simply because I rely on my sense of touch to do a good job at whatever I'm doing.
I relax my hair without gloves. I clean the tub and sink without gloves. I clean the top and inside of the stove without gloves.
Yeah, sometimes I feel kind of gross for letting these hands of mine touch such germy areas. However, I figure as long as there is soap and water, I can wash my hands and keep moving.
Because of my "no loves" preference, I have a tough time growing my natural nails. I have to go to the salon and get fake nails if I want my hands to look like I care about myself. :)

2. Lately all of my friends are talking about their class reunions. However, I'm not talking about mine. :(
I graduated from the school for the blind, where the graduating classes were on average between 12 and 20 people. Most of the class had other disabilities aside from the blindness, which often times included mild mental retardation. Basically, the make-up of a single class didn't have the people in it that could/would actually plan a reunion. And if they did, only half a dozen would show.
It kind of makes me feel a little sad. Well, not a little sad... a teeny-tiny-bit sad... LOL
Perhaps one day, they'll have one big reunion for multiple classes. That would be great. I would actually go.

3. My desk-top and lap-top decided to take a dirt nap last month. I had to break down and buy a new computer. Even though it's a fabulous computer, I really couldn't afford a purchase like that right now. Sometimes, I wish I could just pull out a pen and paper like the average chick. Oh well...

4. I wish that one of these metal birds flying over my house would swoop down and gobble me up, fly to the west coast, and then spit me out.
**Yes, I know that sounds crazy as hell. LOL**
That's how bad I need a vacation!!!!!!!!!!

5. Sometimes, I get sick of being the blind ____________. It's so sickening at times. I hate it that certain people only see my blindness when they see me.
It's like my blindness makes them blind to seeing the "real" me. They don't see that I'm smart, capable, out-going, professional, or social. All they see are these blind eyes of mine.
Oh well... All I can say is that it is their loss.

6. Next month, I will join the population of Americans that actually have medical insurance!!!!!!!! Yay!
My Medicare will become active again. I'm going to every kind of doctor I can in the next few months. LOL
I think I have an iron deficiency. I hope nothing else is wrong with me.

7. Sleeping sometimes feels like a chore. It's one of those things I feel like I have to do, rather than something I want to do.
**sighing**
Well, I guess I have to go to sleep now. No wonder I wake up and still feel tired... I had to work to go to sleep. LOL

Good night!

AB

NuVision for a Nuday; The Book!!!

2010-05-25T05:55:00.004-06:00

I have great news!!!!!!!!!!

I've decided to take some of my favorite essays from this blog and self publish my first book!!!!!!

The book will be a compilation of 100 essays, all from this blog. I plan to break the book into sections, such as coping with change and loss, family, overcoming fear and uncertainty, learning how to love yourself, and overcoming obstacles.

If there is a blog entry that you like the most, or one that you feel should be included, please let me know. I want you to be apart of this process!!!!!!! You are just as much part of this blog as I am.

Thanks for being my loyal readers, even when I'm not so loyal to posting new content. :) Hopefully, you'll be just as loyal when the book is released.

Spread the word about NuVision and the upcoming book project!

Hugs!!!!!!

Angela Braden

Happy Mother's Day!!!!!!!!!

2010-05-09T00:28:00.003-06:00

I'd like to wish a Happy Mother's Day to all those beautiful, strong, selfless moms out there!!!!! I celebrate you for keeping the world spinning on its axis!!!!

I'd like to send a special Mother's Day shout out to the mothers in my family.
mama Margie, Paula, Frances, and Kim!!!!!!! Happy Mother's Day to each of you!
And before I get in trouble, I better wish my aunts a Happy Mother's Day also!!!!!!!!

I'd like to also wish a Happy Mother's day to all of my beautiful grandmothers, great-grandmothers, and great-great-grandmothers!!!
Ella Louise, Ivory Lugene, Hattie, Mattie, Luvenia, Kate, Emily, Vinia, Relia, Ann, and Sussy
Each one of you women established the foundation in which I would be raised! Thank you for rolling out the red carpet for this star!!!!!!

In closing, I would like to wish a Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there who have the beautiful job of parenting a child with a disability!!!!!!!!!!
I applaud you with a thunderous handclap!!!!!!!
Your relentless determination to give your child the very best that life has to offer is amazing!!!!!!!
Keep up the good work!!!!! I know it's tough at times. However, your love, understanding, and commitment is appreciated!!!!!!

Much love!
Angela

No, I do not want to feel your face!

2010-04-20T19:46:00.004-06:00

"I've been alone with you inside my mind
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times
I sometimes see you pass outside my door
Hello, is it me you're looking for?

I can see it in your eyes
I can see it in your smile
You're all I've ever wanted, (and) my arms are open wide
'Cause you know just what to say
And you know just what to do
And I want to tell you so much, I love you ...

I long to see the sunlight in your hair
And tell you time and time again how much I care
Sometimes I feel my heart will overflow
Hello, I've just got to let you know

'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely, or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying, I love you ...

Hello, is it me you're looking for?
'Cause I wonder where you are
And I wonder what you do
Are you somewhere feeling lonely or is someone loving you?
Tell me how to win your heart
For I haven't got a clue
But let me start by saying ... I love you."

Those are the very beautiful lyrics of Lionel Richie's 1984 hit song, Hello.

I'll never forget the video to that song. In the video, Lionel Richie played a professor that admired a good looking, blind lady that was a student at the college. He noticed her as she walked on the campus with her cane. Heck, he noticed everything she did.

My youngest sister, Kim, actually told me it was kind of freaky and stalkerish the way Lionel Richie watched every move of this unaware, blind woman. LOL I actually don't agree with her. I just think he thought she was beautiful. He couldn't help it that she couldn't see him looking at her. I'm digressing here... LOL

Okay... I need to continue to digress for one quick moment... Before I go any further... Let me tell you that I never would've thought that ten years after that video came out, I would've been the blind lady walking on the college campus. That song and video haunted me my first year at college. LOLOL

Okay... Moving on to the point of this blog post...

Well, at the end of the video, the blind woman shows Lionel Richie a sculpture she did of his face. After she shows it to him, she goes to feel his actual face. Of course, Lionel Richie melts as his beautiful, blind love interest rubs her hands across his sincere looking face.

I saw that video perhaps a hundred times before I lost my sight. And every time I saw it, I made the assumption that all blind people feel the faces of people they know. I also told myself each time I saw the video that if I were blind, I wouldn't want to go around touching people's faces.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the beginning of my unwillingness and discomfort with touching faces.

First of all... All blind people do not go around feeling the faces of their friends, family members, or strangers. Well, at least I don't. LOL

Feeling someone's face is incredibly intimate!!!!!!!! It's almost like kissing. In order to touch someone's face, you have to be right up on them. Likewise, you have to put your fingertips on a part of their body that is usually not touched by anyone other than the people that they are close to. There are only a few people that I feel close enough to in order to lean my body towards theirs, touch their face, and then caress it in order to feel it.

You have to admit... That's quite sensual, right? LOL

So, do not get offended when I don't ask you to touch your face. Likewise, don't get offended when I turn my nose up and say "no" when you ask me if I want to touch your face.

If we're close enough for me to feel comfortable enough to touch your face, just know in your heart that we are "right there" with each other. It will happen without any solicitation.

"Well, Angela, if you don't touch my face, how will you know how I look?"

Somebody will tell me. Don't worry! In fact, if you want me to know, you can tell me. Alright? Alright.

Graveyard Treasures

2010-04-04T05:12:00.003-06:00

I've just heard that a very successful film and television writer, who was also a very popular blogger, has passed away. He was only 48.

So many thoughts have rushed through my head since I heard the news. I won't go into it here. Well, not now. Perhaps, when my thoughts slow down, I'll be able to articulate what I'm feeling.

Honestly, it's not that I'm particularly heart-broken for this man. I didn't know him. I'll admit to not being a consistent reader of his blog. And I didn't know until this morning that he was a multiple Emmy winning writer. Interestingly enough, I wasn't even a fan of those shows that showered him with so much commercial and critical acclaim.

To be quite honest, his death, more than what I knew of his life, has inspired me.

His life ended so young. However, during the 48 years that he was able to live, he did live. He enjoyed his life, and shared his God-give gifts with the world. He has passed away from this world, but he left a legacy behind.

Yes, he died... But his writings will live forever.

My friend Randevyn wrote and recorded a song entitled, "Graveyard Treasures". The song is about all the books, scripts, music, sculptures, paintings, architecture, scientific breakthroughs, athletic abilities, and so on are buried in the graveyard with individuals that didn't share them when they were living.

Thankfully, the gifts that God gave this particular writer didn't go in the casket with him. Instead, his treasures will live, even when all of us have gone.

I'm now more motivated to make sure that I'm not buried in a casket that is made crowded by all of the treasures I should've left behind.

**Rest peacefully, David Mills. Thanks for using your life and death to teach us some lessons.**

I can't believe that one day I'll be an old blind lady!!!!!

2010-03-20T23:43:00.008-06:00

The other day, my six-year-old niece, Gabby, was suppose to come over and spend the day with us. Well, let me be specific. Gabby was coming over to play with my other six-year-old niece, Jasmine. The girls love each other so much; and they long for the weekends to come so that they can meet up here at my house to play with one another. We just happen to benefit from the visits. LOL

Well, this particular Saturday afternoon, Gabby was scheduled to come over. However, Jasmine had a birthday party to attend with friends of the family. So, Jasmine wasn't going to be here for a couple hours after Gabby was supposed to arrive.

When Gabby was asked if she wanted to go ahead and come to our house, without Jasmine being here, this was Gabby's reply.

"Yes... I'll go over there and take care of Ann because she's blind."

My mouth dropped open. I wasn't offended at all. I was just shocked. It was my first time hearing Gabby certify that she indeed has a blind auntie. I felt naked for moment. I felt like the condition that I had managed to pass over as "not a big deal" for six years had become a "big deal" in the eyes of my niece. It had become a big deal so much that she felt like she, in all of her six-year-old glory, needed to declare that she should make the effort to take care of her 30-something-year-old aunt.

In many situations, I'm known as the blind teacher, the blind motivational speaker, the blind neighbor, the blind church member, the blind blogger, and the blind lady to strangers. And that's cool... I used to have a real problem with being the blind anything. But now, I've learned to not pay it any attention. I know that there's much more to me than my blindness.

However, what I do hope for is that my three nieces, my one nephew, my dozens of cousins, my remaining uncles and aunts, my loving parents, my three sisters, and my circle of intimate friends do not see me as their blind ________________. I don't want my blindness to supersede everything else that I am. I want my blindness to be the last thing those particular people see.

But with all that being said... I think it's great that Gabby wanted to take care of her auntie, even if it was due to her thinking that I need someone to take care of me because of the blindness. That lets me know for sure that she loves and cares about me. That makes me feel like one of the luckiest women (Not blind women...) in the world!!!!!

I'm also glad that Gabby has a heart of compassion for individuals that may possess some level of need. Let's be honest here... No matter how independent I am, the truth is that I cannot see. And that presents countless opportunities I can use a helping eyeball to look out for me. LOL So, I'm glad she's willing to be helpful!!!!

For sure, I'm going to need her help to read something for me, guide me in an unfamiliar territory, assist me with finding something that's lost, and hopefully one day take me shopping for clothes, shoes, furniture, or make-up... You get the point.

Perhaps what's more troubling than being a blind aunt is being a blind aunt that has no kids or husband of her own. One of my real fears is that I'm going to grow old and be alone. This is why I work so hard to play a visible role in my nieces and nephew lives. I want them to remember their aunt when they become adults. I want them to one day look out for the old blind woman that's their aunt. LOL When I’m an old blind lady, I’ll be glad if any of them come over to take care of me. Hopefully, Gabby will still have the desire!!!! LOL

**This is dedicated to my babies. I live the life I live to be an inspiration to each of you. I love you soooooo much!!!!!!!!

Always and forever,
Aunt Angie**

Happy Birthday NuVision for a NuDay!!!!!!! (Has it really been four years?)

2010-03-18T01:26:00.004-06:00

Earlier today, I was talking with a good friend about my blog. We were discussing all of the attention and opportunities that my blog has introduced me to. While conversing with him, I realized something. I've actually maintained this blog for four years now!

I started NuVision for a NuDay March 9, 2006. And since that first entry published on Blogger, I've written and published over 300 more. That is an amazing accomplishment for a recovering, procrastinating, easily distracted girl, such as myself. LOL

So, today, I would like to take some time to celebrate NuVision's birth and continued growth!!!!! Despite how many times I wanted to back away from the blogger's table, this blog continued to call my name. This blog has demanded that I tell the story of a 30-something, African American, blind woman in Texas. This blog has insisted that I'm honest with myself and the world regarding what it's like to see the world through blind eyes.

NuVision, thank you for giving me a voice!!!!!!

I would also like to thank all of the readers that so graciously stop by here to read my words. I'm honored that you would take out the time to read about my journey from darkness to light. I hope that you will continue to join me as I share with you my experiences, perspectives, and even my emotional nudity.

All the best to you!!!!!!

Angela L. Braden
Award Winning Blogger and Motivational Speaker

Tempted in the Wildnerness (Part 3 of 3)

2010-03-14T20:09:00.004-06:00

****Before reading this post, you may want to start here and here first.*****

Taking care of my mother has been perhaps one of the most painstaking experiences that I will likely have in this lifetime. While grieving and coping with the changes in my mother that the stroke caused, I had to step up to the plate and provide A+ care for her. I couldn't let my pain, my disappointment, my sorrow, my depression get in the way of what I needed to do for her. I couldn't let her know how messed up I was. I knew if Mama realized how hurt I was to see her in that condition, she would become discouraged and wouldn't push as hard to overcome the disabling effects of the stroke. So, instead of me taking time to deal with my pain, I put Mama in the front, and took care of her, without taking care of me.

And that has been where I've been for the last seven years. I've put Mama, along with her children and grandchildren, in front of me in the line of people I should and actually do take care of. I've neglected myself, perhaps for noble reasons, to take care of others. I've put my mental health on the backburner, while trying to help my family retain a certain degree of sanity. I've fallen off the weight loss bandwagon, picked up weight, basically killing myself, while trying to help Mama stay alive. I have basically sacrificed myself and my life, with the hope that my family will hopefully choose life over death.

And now, I'm suffering for making those choices. I'm feeling the affects of not taking care of myself. I'm feeling the pain that I neglected to deal with so many years ago. I feel myself breaking into millions of pieces.

I decided a few weeks ago that I should seek counseling. I started going to Celebrate Recovery at my church, with the hope that I would find strength to manage as I try to reclaim my life. I started planning/strategizing/brainstorming on ways I can turn this thing around.

Before I go any further, let me clarify something. No, I do not want to stop taking care of my family. I just want to start taking care of myself first!!!!!

I heard a preacher say something over ten years ago. I now understand the magnitude of the wisdom he spoke.

"Fill your own cup first, and nourish others with the overflow."

How profound!!!!

When I first heard it, I thought it was selfish, but now I get it!!!!

I've been filling others folks cups first, and getting mad when they don't realize what a sacrifice I've been making. LOL

And that was part of my problem the other night. When mayhem broke loose in my house, I was mostly upset because, despite my best efforts, despite all the sacrifices I had made for my family, they would not stop fussing long enough to consider me. I was hurt that they put themselves before me.

I think they are the ones that got it right!

I should learn to do that too!

I should learn to put myself, my desires, my motivations at the top of the list. Of course, I shouldn't be selfish and hateful. However, I'm learning from my family that the first person that should look out for Angie should be Angie. And I should not ever expect anyone to look out for me as much as I should look out for myself.

The other night, I felt the pain and sorrow of what I've been enduring for years. I felt trapped. I felt like I had no way out of this life. The enemy came to tempt me in the wilderness. He came to make an offer for me to escape this pain. He suggested that I end it all. He tempted me to abort all that God has placed inside of me for this journey.

When he tempted me with such an offer, I was startled. I hadn't felt like that in a long time. I hadn't experienced suicidal ideation in years. So, when the enemy was standing in front of me, calling my name, trying to usher me to turn away from this life I have, I paused to hear his voice, my voice, and the voice of God.

All of those voices in my head... I could hear them all at once. Sometimes, one voice would be stronger than the others.

The enemy telling me it's not worth it.
God telling me that He wouldn't have guided me into any experience, without giving me the provision to survive it and gain from it.
My voice, admitting that I'm tired of this situation...

I decided to take a hard, strong look at what was being told to me.

I considered my voice and questioned the validity. Was I really tired? For sure! Do I feel that God has and continues to equip me with what I need to survive in the wildnerness He guided me into? I do believe that. The one voice that I knew would lie to me, that consistently lies is the voice of the enemy. I rejected him with fury!

I made up my mind, yet again, that quitting is not an option. Yes, this life I have is hard, but it is manageable. I just need to approach it differently. I need to seek God and other wise individuals to help me navigate better. I need to put my mental, physical, and spiritual health at the top of my list of priorities.

I chose life over death! And I lived that night to live the life that God has given me.

Am I still in the wildnerness? Yep! I now know more than I've ever known that there are lessons, gifts, and triumphs that I will encounter in this wilderness. The wildnerness is not a place of punishment, it is a place to get closer to God. That night, I got a little closer to God.

**God, I thank you for all that You’re teaching me in this wildnerness experience. Thank you for continuing to reveal Yourself and Your plan for my life. Help me develop the strength that is necessary to continue to resist the enemy, and to develop into the Angie You’ve designed me to be.**

Tempted in the Wilderness (Part 2 of 3)

2010-03-07T08:17:00.004-06:00

**This started off being a two-part narrative. If you haven't read the first one, you should do that before starting here. Tomorrow, I will post the third and last installment. I hoped to only do it in two parts, but I'm emotionally drained.**

For years, every since my preteen years, the tempter would seduce me with the idea that death was my only escape from my problems. In fact, when I was twelve-years-old, I took my suicidal ideation a little further than just thoughts. I overdosed on some of my medication. Thankfully, after I swallowed the last pill, I came to my senses.

I alerted my adult cousin of the nearly fatal step I had taken. My family got me immediate medical attention. Turns out, I didn't take enough to "Kill" myself. However, I did take enough to potentially cause major physical damage. Thankfully, they were able to flush out the chemicals from my system before any damage was done.

Although I survived that incident, I still lived in utter conflict. I wanted to live as much as I wanted to die. I wanted to triumph as much as I wanted to give up. I wanted to boldly confront my pain as much as I wanted to run and hide from it. I was torn between hope and hopelessness.

I lived with that conflict for another twelve years. It wasn't until I was in graduate school at Dallas Baptist, and until I was a member at The Potter's House, that I was able to completely turn my back on the demonic temptation to take my own life. I made a decision to start coming to grips that I may never "see" again. I began the process to cope with the darkness that was around me. I embraced the idea that my God, in all of His wisdom and authority, may indeed have a plan for this blind life that I was now left to live with.

And once I stopped spending all of my time praying and crying for a miracle to rescue me, the miracle happened. I found the courage to live in the darkness without being afraid, without being depressed, without being suicidal.

Life was still tough, and I would still have my moments that I felt overwhelmed. However, I didn't want to die. I finally realized that life provided me with opportunities to experience happiness. Death only would stop the pain. Life was capable of giving me joy. So, I chose life, and turned my back on dying.

It's only every now and then, I briefly think about death. I think that suicidal ideation is like a conquered habit for me. It's almost like a recovering drug addict. You may never try the drug again, but from time to time, the thought crosses your mind. That's how it was for me and the suicide thoughts. However, I knew it was nothing. It would pop in my mind, but I would kick it out as fast as it would come.

Interestingly, when the thought popped into my head the other night, I hadn't wanted to die in a long time. I guess the emotional pain and frustration I was feeling was so strong, so overpowering that I actually revisited the notion that death was the only escape to my problems.

When my mother got sick, I petition god to heal her. I begged Him to make Mama better. I cried and cried, hoping that He would respond to my plea. Mama did get better. However, she was still quite sick, extremely weak, and mentally impaired. The doctors told us that she required 24-hour care and supervision.

So, I prayed and asked God what I should do. He spoke to my spirit and inspired me to take the responsibility to be my mother's caregiver.

I allowed God to guide me into the wilderness. I allowed Him to direct me to an unfamiliar place of pain, hardship, and emotional trauma. Yeah, I was all too familiar with pain and disappointment. However, the trials that were introduced to me in this wilderness were stronger and bolder.

**Check out the last of this narrative tomorrow**

Note to Patrick: God is able!!!!!!! :) I'm still here!!!!!!!

Tempted in the Wilderness (Part 1 of 2)

2010-03-06T18:02:00.005-06:00

I've been quite reluctant to write this post, being that so many of my current readers actually know me. In many ways, I feel I have an image to uphold. I have to, no matter how I feel, give folks the impression that I'm strong, that I'm an overcomer. Not because I want folks to celebrate me, but because I want people to be encouraged themselves. I know so many people are depending on me to be strong in this dark life I live in, so that they can know they can also be strong in their dark moments.

However, I feel that there are some things that I must get off my chest. There are some things that I need to say out loud to provide myself some therapy. And perhaps my honesty will help someone as much or more than my seemingly strong demeanor.

Last night, I was visited by a horror that is all too familiar to me. I was awakened from my restless sleep by fussing and screaming. I tried to lie in the bed and ignore it, but the verbal violence was rapidly rising. And there was no doubt about it, a referee was needed to defuse the situation.

Who was fussing you might wonder? My mother and my sister was having an all out screamathon at 1:30 A.M

Because I'm the most skilled at managing the emotionally charged conflicts that erupt in this house, I jumped up to do my job. The problem with refereeing fights that involve your parent is the "parent" always trumps the children, even if one of the children is the inexplicit family referee.

I tried to talk everyone down. I tried to even scream everyone to silence. I tried to confront the issues head on, knowing that despite my best efforts the conflict could easily turn on me.

And it did...

My mother wouldn't back down. She told me to shut up and go back to my room. She told me that nobody was going to tell her where to go and when to be quiet in her house.

I looked past the blindness in my eyes to look directly at my mother. I pleaded with her to call a truce for the night. I told her that I have borderline anxiety issues. (My diagnosis...) I begged her to consider my mental health. She told me to go to my room. I tucked my hope for a resolution in my back pocket and retreated to my room, but not with an ounce of solace.

This is a good time to throw out this disclaimer. My mother is not an angry, screaming, emotionally wild woman. She is a kind, loving, peaceful creature. Well, that's what she was before the stroke.

Now, my mother is a sad, easily angered, bitter woman, who also happens to have a speech impairment and a massive brain injury.

The stroke robbed my mother of managing her life.
The stroke stole my mother's career as a teacher.
The stroke murdered my mother's artistic and creative gifts, such as playing the piano, writing poetry and plays, as well as her gift of interior decorating.
The stroke kidnapped her ability to clearly articulate thoughts, ideas, requests, happiness, and pain.
The stroke divorced her from her life-long friends and co-workers.
The stroke suspended her driver's license for life.
The stroke slaughtered her ability to think critically.
The stroke killed much of the woman I knew to be my mother.

I hate strokes because of what it did to my mother. I hate strokes because of what it did to my aunt, Linda. I hate strokes because of what it did to my grandmother, Mona. I hate strokes because I'm scared that one day I will also become its mangled prey.

After going back to my room, I crawled into my bed and into the emotional arms of a friend. I vented, using colorful language and explosive emotional energy. He listened to me as I verbally vomited through the phone. He talked to me until I had nothing else to say. I appreciate him for being there for me.

However, he was on the phone, and I needed someone to be there with me in person. I needed to be consoled beyond a phone conversation. I needed to hide from all that pain. I needed an uncharted island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean to vanish to. I needed more than a friendly voice on the phone. I needed God to rescue me.

After hanging up the phone, frustration mounted in my heart and mind. I felt hopeless. I felt strained beyond repair. That grief, that sorrow, that pain prompted me to wish I was dead. And before I knew it, the desire to kill myself was standing before me, calling my name, like it was my friend, like it was my savior, like it was the solution to all of my problems.

**I'll post the 2nd part to this post tomorrow. Don't worry! I'm not dead!!!!!! LOL**

Here's a few random reflections regarding "my" experience with blindness.

2010-02-25T05:05:00.003-06:00

1. One of the things I hate about being blind is that I often cannot come and go when I please. When you depend on other folks for transportation, you're left to arrive and leave whenever they are ready to go. That annoys the daylights out of me!

2. And what annoys me the most is that the folks that I'm forced to wait on are usually so impatient themselves. They don't want to wait for anyone, at any time. So, looks like they would understand how I feel the same way.

3. Okay... Let me explain this. For me, being blind introduces so many opportunities to be bored to death!!!!!
Think about it... I'm sitting in the complete dark all the time. I cannot focus on what people look like around me. I can't focus on how a room is decorated. I can't doodle notes on a piece of paper to kill a little time. I basically have no visual stimulation.
So, I often find myself wishing and wanting lectures to come to a close pretty fast. I fall asleep in cars when going for a long distance. I get bored out of my gored at parties. (Yeah, it's the truth.)

4. One of the reasons why I love to listen to audio books more than listening to television is because the book provides me with all the visual details. Television doesn't provide me with any visual details. I'm left to use my imagination on how someone looks, how their dressed, and how they facial expressions look.

5. I wonder what kind of personality I would have if I never lost my sight. I wonder if I would be social, kind, and out-going. I wonder if I would be confident and assertive. Hmm... Just wondering...

6. Sometimes my sighted friends and family get on my nerves. They can be so insensitive at times. I sometimes wish I can make them blind for a week. They need to know how this 24-hour darkness feels!!!!!!

7. If I could see, I would often leave the house and go somewhere to sit and think. Being with people all the time kind of gets on my nerves.

8. I hate it that church folks think the notion that "when I get to heaven, I'll be able to see again" is any type of real consolation to me. I wonder how satisfied they would be if any and everything they wanted in life was put on hold until they died.

9. I think it's hilarious that the braille Bible that Eli was carrying in the movie, "The Book of Eli", had to be only a small portion of the entire Bible. The actual Bible in braille is dozens of very thick volumes. He was probably only carrying Genesis. LOL

10. I hate that I can't independently set my DVR to record some of my favorite shows. A friend told me that I should switch to AT&T for cable. He said you can set your DVR from the computer. That would be the bomb if AT&T was actually in my area. Come on, Comcast!!!!! You're going to have to offer more functionality to "all" of your customers!!!!!!

Random Reflections About Very Specific Things

2010-02-22T01:30:00.005-06:00

**Every now and then, I post on my blog some of my random thoughts and perspectives about very specific issues that I'm dealing with. There is no particular time I post them. I just write when I'm inspired to. So, here goes...**

1. I'm so mad right now, I'm fuming. I hate it when I get like this. I hate it when people and/or circumstances cause me to react in a way that is not typical Angie behavior.

2. If you don't like me, then don't talk to me at all!!!!!!! If you're conflicted on whether or not you really want to have me around, I can help you with your conflict. Do us both a favor... Let me go!!!! I will not be hurt if you don't speak to me.

3. I saw District 9 tonight. It was rather interesting, to say the least. I actually enjoyed it. I need to watch it again to really get it.

4. Did I say I was mad?

5. Perhaps I'm not as mad as I'm hurt.

6. I need to get back on my work out regiment. I haven't worked out in three days. That is not good!!!!!!!

7. I feel like crying.

8. I wonder why crying is not easy for me. Some folks can start crying at the drop of a hat.

9. Despite my lack of regular attendence, I'm so glad to be a member at Good Hope. It helps give meaning to my life.

10. I need about two weeks of vacation time. Dang, I wish I didn't have to work in the summer.

11. I can't stand dealing with folks that have split personalities!!!!!

12. I miss my daddy. For a full month, he stayed with us. He's been gone for the last three days. I wish he would come back.

13. If I had someone in my life that was like me, I would be so appreciative of them. I certainly wouldn't treat them like trash on the street.

14. For the last year, I've been pissed off at a particular person. I'm releasing them now. I'm finish with that. Your loss!!!!!

15. My website should be up in a few days. That's exciting!!!!!!!

16. I love my students at the college!!!!! It is such a pleasure to have the opportunity to invest in their lives. I feel so fortunate.

17. Tomorrow, I'm going to go buy something/anything. I need a little retail therapy.

18. I wish some smart, fine, conversational man would find me irresistable. :)

19. I got too much gray in this head of mine. Looks like I'll be applying hair color in it real soon.

20. I'm not the same Angie I was five years ago. Depending on which view you have, that could or could not be a good look. LOL

The Pink Eye The First Draft of the Beginning of my Memoire

2010-02-11T15:46:00.002-06:00

**I've decided to go ahead and start writing the first installment of my life story. This is a very rough draft of the first chapter. Let me know what you think! Would you be interested in reading more? Thanks for your feedback!**

When I was a kid, having “the pink eye” was like having the cooties. Nobody wanted to even be in the same room with the kid who had the sick looking eye, let alone sit in a desk near the kid. So, if you looked like you may have “pink eye”, you were band from coming to school until you had a note from the doctor, indicating that you were cleansed of the highly contagious, icky, pink eye.
One spring morning, seemingly out of no where, the white of my right eye was eclipsed by a pink veil of sickness and pain. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was eight-years-old and in the third grade. Up until that point, illness and I had no acquaintance. Little did I know that illness would soon be introduced to me as my new cell mate.
As I did every morning when my mother called my name to wake me up for school, I took a deep breath of the new morning’s fresh aroma, hopped out of my bed, and turned the light on in my peach and green decorated bedroom. As the frosted dome flashed with a burst of light, surprised gripped me as the light plunged down, causing my eye to shutter with an unfamiliar pain. My eye began to weep as I squeezed my eye lid shut in order to hide the sensitive eye from the glaring light.
I walked over to the other side of my room and took a look into the smeared mirror that crowned the scratched up surface of my walnut dresser. I lifted my eyebrows high to force my protective eyelid to let me take a look at the aching eye. The brown of my eye looked like it was a perfectly round island in a sea of pink waters. Clear tears poured from the corner of my pink eye, pass my nose, down to the corner of my lip, and then finally to my chin. I lifted my right cheek high to squeeze that painful eye shut. Closing it seemed to be the only relief from the sharp pain.
With my hand covering the offended eye, I walked across the small hallway that separated my room from my parents’ sanctuary. My daddy was sitting on the edge of the king-size bed that he and my mother shared, lacing up his mud stained boots. He was already dressed in his clean, yet dingy looking work clothes. He looked at me, his oldest child, and asked me what was wrong with my eye. I sat down on the bed next to him, pulled my hand away from my face, cranked my eyebrows up yet again, and force my apprehensive eye to expose its sorrow.
My daddy, who was a tall, strikingly handsome, yet unrefined man, gently touched my right cheek as he peered into my eye. He squint his hypnotic green eyes as he looked into my painful eye. Without saying anything to me about what he perceived, he yelled to my mama, who was in the bathroom getting dressed for work. “Margie, Ann looks like she has the pink eye.”
My mother immediately turned around and stepped out of the bathroom. She had on a black bra, a full-length white slip, and off black stockings. Her round face looked like a freshly painted canvas of beautiful brown and burgundy tones. Her ears were adorned with large, gold loops. Every strand of her black wavy hair was brushed perfectly in a conservative, yet stylish bun in the back of her head.
She walked over to me and leaned her pregnant stomach towards my face as she lifted my chin to look down into my sick eye. Within sixty seconds, I was diagnosed.
“Yeah, she does have the pink eye. She’ll have to stay home with Mama today. I’ll take her to Dr. Silverman’s after I get off.”
Staying home from school was never fun if you were really sick. So, news of my declared absence from school was rather disappointing. I actually liked school, even though my mama was also my teacher.
I lifted my body up from the bed and moped across the threshold of my parent’s room, sighing and frowning with every step. Daddy called out to me before I could make it back across the hall.
“Go wash your hands. You don’t want to give your lil’ sister the pink eye.”
Frankly, I cared very little about my three-year-old sister, Paula, at this point. For that brief, selfish moment, I was thinking about myself. I didn’t feel like being sick. I wanted to go to school. And I certainly didn’t want to have any type of condition that would cause me to be pegged as “the girl with the cooties.” However, I did what Daddy said to do. I stopped, took a sharp left and entered the restroom to disinfect my hands of the yucky eye disease.
Later that afternoon, right in the middle of one of my favorite “Woody Wood Pecker” shows, my mother showed up to my grandmother’s house to pick me up to take me to the doctor. I kissed my grandmother goodbye and followed by mother to the gray Thunderbird that was parked on the gravel covered driveway. I looked up and daringly opened my right eye, hoping that both of my eyes could stare at the brilliant star that hung majestically like a dynamic jewel in the endless, blue sky. As soon as my eyelid cracked open, light assaulted my fragile eye. Tears escaped my eye as I barricaded my eye shut.
I hopped in the car and closed both of my eyes as Mama drove to Dr. Silverman’s office. His office was only ten minutes away from my grandmother’s house. So, the dark ride didn’t last long.
Dr. Silverman was an elderly, extremely friendly, white man, who ran a family medical practice in the middle of the ghetto. His unglamorous office sat on the corner of two of the most beat down streets in Houston. Partially bald up Paper, empty soda cans, and beer bottles garnered the edges of the tar covered streets. Old cars and trucks parked around the brown, brick building, providing the community with proof that Dr. Silverman was one of the most popular doctor’s in the ghetto.
My mother and I walked into Dr. Silverman’s tidy, little office. Brown paneling covered the unexcited walls. The tile floor looked as if they were swept and mopped only a few hours before we arrived. It was always clean in Dr. Silverman’s office. Likewise, it was always crowded in his office. Every plastic chair that was lined up against the walls were occupied by distressed looking black and brown folks, who were all waiting to be seen by the good doctor.
Dr. Silverman was a favorite in the community because he offered inexpensive medical services to poor, working class families. Many of his patients had no health insurance, which meant they had no options. So, they would sit in Dr. Silverman’s office and wait, no matter how long it took, to be seen by someone that seemed to know what they were doing.
My family had health insurance at this point, but they didn’t have it always. Dr. Silverman was declared the family doctor long before professional incomes and comprehensive health insurance coverage was introduced to my once impoverished daddy and mama. So, for loyalty sake, familiarity, and the convenience of a doctor that accepted walk-ins, we would travel to the ghetto from our suburban home to see Dr. Silverman.
After checking in at the front window, we waited in the crowded waiting room to be seen. At first Mama and I had to sit apart from each other, being that the only available seats were scattered in between people that gave no indication that they would shift to allow the pregnant mother to sit by her young child. After a few names were called, a seat next to Mama became available. I quickly jumped up and claimed the vacated seat as my own. With my left eye, I looked over at the Jet Magazine that my mother was flipping through. Pictures of beautiful, successful black men and women were on every other page.
As Mama slowly flipped through the pages, I quickly took a glance at the beautiful woman that was crowned Jet’s Beauty of the Week. Her coffee brown legs were so full and long, giving my chocolate dipped Barbie a little competition. Her thick black hair rested perfectly across the top of her supple left breast as if the photographer choreographed the seductive pose to offer picture perfect femininity. The only thing the young woman wore was a bright, white smile and a shiny red bathing suit that exposed her narrow waste and bell curved hips. I secretly wished that I could one day be a Jet Beauty of the Week, showing off all of my future goods to all of Black America.
After sitting in the hard, uncomfortable chairs for nearly ninety minutes, it was finally my turn. “Angela Bradley”, the nurse bellowed.
Even though my name is Angela Braden, I’ve learned from a young age that most people will hardly ever say my name correctly on the first try. I blame it on pure laziness. My name clearly doesn’t have some of the letters I hear people say when they call out my last name.
I jumped up, knowing the nurse was finally calling for me. My mother lifted her body up from the plastic chair, stomach first, every other part of her second. We traveled down what then seemed like a long hallway to an empty examination room. Once I was in the examination room, I knew that we were simply going to wait a little while longer. But at least, we were a little closer to actually being seen by the doctor.
After about fifteen minutes, Dr. Silverman popped open the interior door to the examination room. I always wondered what was on the other side of that door. I tried to take a sneak peek as he entered, but before I could take a look, the tall white man, with the white hair, who was dressed in the white coat, slam the white door, leaving me to wonder yet again, what was on the other side of that door.
After waiting for nearly two hours, Dr. Silverman looked into my sick eye for about two minutes and into my unsick eye for half a minute, and loudly announced to my mother what she thought she already knew.
“Looks like she has pink eye. I’ll write a prescription for some medicine that’ll clear it up right away. She can go back to school in a couple days.”
He firmly shook my hand, shook my mother’s hand, and quickly exited the office, going back into the part of his office that was never seen by any of his patients. My mother and I waited quietly until the nurse returned with the prescriptions. As the nurse entered, I tried to look pass the door as she entered the tiny office. The door quickly closed behind her. I silently sighed.
“I’ll be back to normal in a couple days.” I thought as I followed Mama out of the freezing, clean office back into the humid, dirty landscape that surrounded the clinic.

I'm Back!

2010-01-24T19:14:00.003-06:00

Happy New Year!!!!!!

Thanks for being patient with me as I took a little time away from my blog. I feel energized and ready to go! I think it's going to be a great year for NuVision for a NuDay!!!

Here's what you can expect to be posted on the blog this year.

1. More stories that discuss my experience as a blind woman.
2. Honest reflections and revealing personal discoveries.
3. Monthly interviews with other individuals with visual disabilities.
4. Updates on legislation that impact individuals with disabilities, particularly the blind.
5. Details on my quest to get CNN to produce a "Disabled in America" documentary.
6. And whatever you say! If there's something in particular that you would like me to discuss, let me know!

I'll be posting at least once a week, but hopefully more! In the meantime, tell your friends about NuVision for a NuDay. We're back!

God's best!
Angela L. Braden

I Changed My Mind!

2009-12-02T21:01:00.003-06:00

After I posted my final post for NuVision, I started grieving. I haven't been able to get my blog off my mind.

I started thinking about all the people that stumble upon my blog. I thought about all the people that purposely travel to this spot.

I wondered was there another blogger that would and could replace my voice. and then I realized that was impossible.

My voice, my experience, and my perspectives are so incredibly unique. they are so unique that I need and must continue writing.

I'm perhaps the only African American, blind, college educated, professionally employed woman on the web, who is willing to self disclose to this degree.

Perhaps I'll take a two month break. However, I'll continue to use this platform to raise the awareness of issues, concerns, and perspectives of individuals with disabilities, in particular, blindness.

So, I'm back!

Angie Braden

Am I a Dreamer or a Doer?

2009-11-03T21:54:00.007-06:00

**I wrote this at the beginning of the year. Sometimes, it's good to revisit some of the declarations that inspired you in the past. I thought I would post it, with the hope you will also be encouraged to live your dreams. Enjoy and be inspired!!!!!!**

I've decided that this would be the year that I stop talking about
what I would like to do with my life. This will be the year that I will put action behind
my intentions and make something, anything happen. I'm fed up with
dreaming. Yeah, dreaming is good. But dreams are what they are, just a
dream. It is not a physical manifestation of what is supposed to be
accomplished in your life. Dreams are a figment of your safely constructed, carefully controlled imagination.

In my dreams, I can start a business, but never fail. I can be in
love, and never have to worry about the man of my dreams falling out
of love with me. I can be 125 pounds, and never have to get on the
treadmill. I can be a best selling author, without ever having to face
rejection from a publishing house. I can be a PH.D, without ever
having to stand before a committee to defend my dissertation. I can be
rich, without ever having to work a day in my life. To sum it up, I
can be anything in my dreams.

But in real life, I have to face my fears, face the possibility of
failure, face the reality of hard work and disappointment, face the
truth about my laziness and procrastination, face the embarrassing
fact that I sometimes overeat, and face the many possibilities that a
person may encounter when you begin an unfamiliar path towards “living”
your dreams. .

And this year, I will…I must face all of the aforementioned.
This year, I will leap out of my dreams and make my dreams apart of my reality.
I will invest my money, my time, emotions, my energy, my spirituality, my
faith, my essence into bringing forth what God intends for my life.
I will demand that the atmosphere supports this calling by positioning myself around all those that can be of service to me and my
development into the woman that I've been designed to be.
I will disrobe myself from the cloak of fear, and rise with courage, apprehending all that I know is mine.
I will soar above all that is beneath me, rather than drowning in the mediocrity that I have let decorate my life for so many years.

This year is the beginning of the rest of my life.

This year is the beginning of achievements that will blow my mind.

This year is the beginning of recommitting myself to Kingdom agendas.

This year is the beginning of never looking back.

This year is the beginning of new beginnings.

NuVision for a NuDay Celebrates the Installation of a Statue of Helen Keller at the U.S. Capitol Building

2009-10-10T10:49:00.004-06:00

I was absolutely thrilled when I got the news that a statue of Helen Keller was installed at the U.S. Capitol's National Statuary Hall. The memorial statue of Keller is the Capitol's first ever statue to depict a person with a severe disability.

NuVision believes that this honor was absolutely appropriate for such an outstanding American. helen Keller was the first deaf-blind person to receive a bachelors degree in the United States. And she managed this amazing feat in 1904. Keller was also a internationally recognized speaker, author, and political activist. Her life has motivated so many, including myself, to not only brave the darkness of blindness, but to create a light that would luminate our personal paths, as well as others.

To read more about Helen Keller and her lifetime achievements, visit the American Foundation for the Blind's website. There you will find resources that detail the amazing life of this American hero.

"Never bend your head. Always hold it high. Look the world straight in the face." Helen Keller

Was it the blindness or the dirty panties?

2009-09-28T05:15:00.006-06:00

I recently ran across an article about a blind woman, who hoped to have a child with the help of a fertility clinic. Turns out, the fertility clinic turned the woman down, refusing to help her have a child. The physician is said to have felt that the blind woman could not care for a baby.

According to the clinic staff, the woman had trouble "finding bus stops" and she had "dirty underwear." So, I'm supposing they thought that (If it's true...) would make her a bad mother. I don't know about the bus stop accusation... (That's probably true. A blind person is sure to not always find what they're looking for. Perhaps the dirty underwear accusation is indeed true. But I would put money on it that the blind woman wasn't the only woman that graced their clinic with soiled underwear.

They also refused to offer fertility services because she refused to hire an occupational therapist to evaluate her home, so that the doctor would feel assured that the blind woman's home was safe for a baby. (I wonder if this is something they make all of their patients do? Hmmm...) I wonder what they thought they would or would not find in the blind woman's home? I also wonder if they would next demand that the blind woman prove to the occupational therapist that she can do various housekeeping and cooking jobs within the home. I wonder if she would've had to prove that she was capable enough of dipping her child in a tub and drowning the baby the way that sighted Andrea Yates did. **So much to consider...**

Well, the fertility clinic won their case. Apparently, the courts feel that it is permissible for a clinic to refuse to help a blind woman have a baby.

Interestingly enough, the blind woman went to Iowa, and found a doctor that agreed to perform the procedure in 2001. I guess this doctor didn't give a darn about the babies he helps bring into the world. Why would any "good and moral" doctor help a "blind" woman have a baby?! Ridiculous!

Perhaps it was because the new doctor didn't notice her stank, nasty underwear...

Or just maybe, just maybe he realized that a blind woman is capable of being a good mother to a child, just as a sighted woman can be.

Side Note: I also wonder if this woman could have possibly been discriminated against because of something more than blindness. For instance, I wonder how much her race and sexuality played a part in the decision to not give her a child. All too interesting... I should definitely follow this case.

My Issues with Public Restrooms

2009-09-25T05:17:00.005-06:00

My germaphobic tendencies cause me to really hate public restrooms! but what i hate more is when I "need" to use the restroom, but I'm not with any of my family or friends to assist me to get to the public restroom. For example, when my mother was in ICU, the restrooms were out in the waiting room. So, when I would visit her, I would just have to hold it until someone from my family arrived at the hospital. This is why I'm always glad when Mama is in a regular hospital room. And its an added bonus when she's in a private room. I can use the restroom, without having to "hold it", wait on family to arrive, or just swallow my pride and ask a stranger to take me.

Stress has the power to strengthen you or destroy you. Which will it be? (Part 3 of 3)

2009-09-18T02:34:00.003-06:00

**I know I should've written this weeks ago. Sorry! I've just been overwhelmed with responsibilities. Thanks for being patient with me! Well, here goes.**

The next morning, I got up from my bed, not knowing if that day would be the day that my mother's life would end or continue. Either way, I was trying to prepare myself for what was to come. No matter how much I wanted my mother to fight, to live, to survive...I mostly wanted her to be in the center of God's will for her life. And if that meant it was time for her to pass from this world to a world untouched and unseen by the living, I needed to find a way to deal with that. So, I began to pray.

I prayed and reflected while taking a bath. I prayed some more as I got dressed. I prayed while I was eating breakfast. And I prayed even more as we drove from Humble to Houston's medical center to see my mother.

We arrived at the hospital, and went straight to her room. I expected to find her in the bed with the breathing machine working hard to assist her with staying alive. But instead of finding Mama in the bed, slipping between the cracks of time and timelessness, I found my mother sitting in a chair, eating her breakfast.

"Mama? Wow! You're eating breakfast?" That's all I could say.

She was awake, but she was quiet. She was eating, but she was still. She was living, but she was still not sure if she wanted to live.

I talked to her about what was going on with her health. I explained to her how much she needed dialysis and a blood transfusion to live. I strongly suggested that she consider the grandchildren. I told her to think about me. Likewise, I told her how much I needed her in my life. Although she was quite hesitant and a bit confused, she agreed to get the treatment.

A couple weeks later, after the treatments had started to create changing results for the better, my mother was sitting in her ICU room, enjoying her family. I smiled at her, and told her over and over how glad I was that she was doing better. Because I, along with my other family members, were telling her that continuously, she finally asked us what happened to her that was so bad. I explained to her that she almost died, and that she told the doctors to let her die. Mama was shocked. She gtold me that she was glad that she was still living. And of course, I was glad.

I learned a few things from this experience.
1. Life and death are in the hands of God, only.
2. One should never make a major decision when tired.
3. We don't know the true limits of our strength until we're put in the position to access more of it than usual.
4. We should fight until the very end.
5. Encouragement is not necessary unless the person needs some courage in a frightening, uncertain situation. And when the person needs it, the people that love them need to be willing and able to provide the encouragement.
6. Life is to be lived.
7. The time of death may be uncertain to the living, but it is not with God.

My mother is still in the hospital. She's been there for 67 days. I'm hoping that we will be able to bring her home in a few days. But if we don't, if she never comes home to me, if she goes to heaven from the hospital, and even if she comes home and then goes to heaven... I TRUST GOD!

Stress has the power to destroy you or strengthen you. Which will it be? (Part 2 of 3)

2009-08-18T03:12:00.002-06:00

Perhaps a couple hours after I called for the family to come to the hospital to see their dying loved one, the grandchildren arrived with their parents. Because the hospital staff pretty much thought that Mama would soon be dead, they allowed the kids, who were all beneath the age requirement, to visit with their granny in the ICU.

By this time, the breathing device that they had Mama on was really helping her breathe better. And the result of better breathing was more oxygen in her blood. Likewise, the result of more oxygen was greater coherence. Mama was awake! I was so afraid that she would not be able to know that the kids were by her bedside.

All three of the kids stood around her bed with concerned looks on their innocent faces. My mother peered at the kids over the massive oxygen mask that covered her nose and mouth. I hoped that seeing them would remind her why living was important. She held their hands as they spoke to her in their fearful, yet faith-filled voices.

Then shortly after the kids visited with Mama, her personal physician arrived to speak with her. He came as her doctor, as well as her friend. He advised her to give the dialysis a try and to go ahead and have the transfusion. Knowing her history, Dr. Simms defied the recommendation of death from the other doctors. He felt that despite Mama’s tiring soul, she could overcome this major health challenge. I stood at her bedside while he was talking to her, nodding my head, showing her that I fully supported Dr. Simms’ advice.

Finally, after seeing the kids and after talking with her loving doctor, my mother decided to sign the consent to have the transfusion and the dialysis. My heart was glad! However, my heart was also conflicted. I honestly wasn’t sure if I wanted Mama to live for me, or to die for herself.

I had so much to consider. If Mama was to die, I would have to plan a funeral. I wasn’t in the mood for that. But is anyone when that time comes?

If Mama was to die, I would have to figure out what I was going to do about a monthly income. I had given up my professional income twice in the last seven years to take care of Mama. If she was to die, I would then be left even more broke, simply because her annuity would die with her.

I thought about the house that at the time of purchase was such a blessing to us. If Mama was to die, I would have enough insurance money to pay the mortgage for 2 years. After that, I would either have to pay it myself or put the house up for sale.

As a woman with a significant disability, I shuttered at the thought that getting ajob to take care of myself would likely not come as fast as I would need it to. And I would be left with only one parent to make sure that my needs were met in the meantime. Then suddenly, fear gripped me even tighter.

I wondered if I was thinking about myself over Mama's right to choose to live or die. However, there was nothing in my body and mind that could allow me to passively stand by as my mother chose to give up. Yes, she was tired! Yes, she wanted to die! But we can't cash in our ticket, just because we're ready to go. That's not how it works. And you know who taught me that? My Mama!!!

Livinglife with a chronic illness and/or disability often comes with feelings of weariness and thoughts of a final resting place. So, I was no stranger to this feeling. But I happen to think that disability is not the end of the road. So, one of the reasons why I rejected the doctors' advice was because I, a woman with a disability, understand the struggles of living with illness and disability. And I believe that each of us have the power to overcome these feelings of weariness if we lean on God and loved ones. So, that's what I was doing. I was standing by as a loved one, who didn't want my mother to give up on living, just because she was disabled and sick.

So much to think about! So many things to consider!

I shook myself and reminded myself that Mama’s life or death was in the hands of the One we call God. I reminded myself that my life was also in His hands. There was no need to be afraid, anxious, or depressed. There was no need to feel like Mama was giving up. Because if it was indeed her time to leave us and go meet with God, the decision rested with the One who sculptures both life and death.

I went to bed with one prayer. May God’s will be done in Mama’s life. I didn’t pray for her healing. I didn’t pray for her suffering to end. I simply prayed that God’s will be made perfect in her life. And if that meant that she was going to live or die, I would have peace in knowing that God was in control.

**This is the second of three posts on this subject. Stay tuned for the third installment. I should have it written in a couple days.**

Angie Braden

Stress has the power to destroy you or strengthen you. Which will it be? (Part 1 of 3)

2009-08-10T19:21:00.005-06:00

As unfortunate as it may seem, I’m quite familiar with stressful situations. Every since I was a small child, I’ve been confronted with relationships and circumstances that produce stress and anxiety. Honestly, I’ve learned to manage the stress; and perhaps I’ve learned to live, work, and have fun with stress being the constant backdrop. However, in the recent weeks, my stressometer has been turned up. And boy, oh boy… The stress had started to take a toll on me!

I can feel the stress in my body. My back has been hurting lately. And when I do sleep, it's not a peaceful sleep. I just sleep because I can't go any further.

My diet is wacked out. I'm dehydrated. I'm not working out. And I'm picking up weight at a speed that is depressing in itself.

What's got me so stressed out? Well, the usual. But there has been a little extra in the recent months that has left me exhausted.

For instance, my mother has been in the hospital for 29 days. Thankfully, she's doing much better than she was doing when she went into the hospital. Mama was so sick that I actually braced myself for her departure. That's truly how sick she was! The walls of death were closing in on Mama as she was being overcome by internal bleeding from an unknown spot, congested heart failure, pulmonary edema, kidney failure, hypertension, diabetes, irregular heart rate, and seizure disorder. She was so ill that many of the doctors started conversing with me about perhaps giving my mother medicine to help her have a peaceful exit. I was even faced with making a decision on whether to resuscitate or not, in case she went into respiratory or cardiac arrest.

When it looked like she was going to die, a storm of emotions washed over me. I was sad that my mother, a woman of so much strength and resilience, had suffered so intensely over the last few years. I hated that this painful opera seemed to be approaching its tragic finale. I cried because I hated to see Mama's life, a life that has been filled with countless acts of kindness and selflessness, end with such pain and sorrow. I cried because I had no power to stop the further decline of her already poor health. I wept because what was happening to her seemed so unjust and so cruel.

I sat in the waiting area, closed my eyes, and considered that perhaps was now the time to say goodbye. However, my spirit just couldn't wrap my mind around that idea. I begin to struggle with myself, as I considered that perhaps I didn't want Mama to die because I'm truly scared of living without my parents. I prayed and asked God to prepare me for what was to come. I asked God to wrap His arms around me so that I would know that no matter what, I am never alone.

That night when I got home, I bathed my weary body and crept into the safety of my bed. But peace was not waiting for me under those covers. My head hit the pillow, and I immediately was whisked away into a tragic time machine. I began contemplating the last seven years. I was being drug through my past like James Byrd was violently drug through the streets of Jasper, Texas.

I thought about how one second, one blood clot, and one cerebral brain attack had changed my mother’s one chance at living a happy, peaceful life. I thought about how Mama’s personality was drastically altered, how her physical strength was diminished, how her ability to understand complex information was damaged, and how her ability to employ speech to communicate ideas, thoughts, and requests effectively was forever stolen. My mother, who was then an accomplished elementary school teacher, is now an extremely ill, significantly disabled woman, and it’s all because of a stroke. All of that makes my heart so sad.

Earlier that afternoon when I was at the hospital with Mama, doctors surrounded me, trying to convince me that it was perhaps time to let my mother go. They told me how Mama had conveyed to them earlier in the day how she was tired of living, and how she did not want the recommended treatment that could delay her eventual demise. By the time I got to the hospital, Mama was being poisoned by carbon dioxide, which was slowly entering her blood stream due to her inability to breathe. I tried and tried to wake her up to talk her out of this death wish she apparently made clear to the hospital staff. However, our conversation was quickly being interrupted by lethargic reactions to her rising respiratory failure. I couldn’t keep Mama up for more than 60 seconds!

I got right in her face and started telling her that if she refused the blood transfusion and the dialysis she would be dead in a matter of days. She nodded and went back to sleep. I nudged her and told her that she should want to live for the grandchildren. But mama looked at me and said that she didn’t care.

Even my darling friend, Chad, was trying to convince Mama to hold on, and to consider the medical treatment that could save her life. She woke up long enough to tell him to make sure that he sat with the family at the funeral! Mama even told my friend, Chris, to be ready to have words at the funeral service. And no matter how persistent my friend, Heather, was Mama still continued to express how death was the only good thing for someone in her condition.

Tears violated me, making my private anguish public. Tension squeezed my brain, and all the nerve endings on my body came to life as I considered a life with a lifeless mother. I stopped berating my obviously tired, clearly incoherent mother with my desires, and reluctantly backed off to let her rest in peace.

I asked my friend Chris to pray for my mother before she loss full consciousness, and then I called my sisters to inform them of what was going on. I instructed them to bring the grandchildren, with the consideration that it may be their last time seeing their grandmother alive.

**Tomorrow, I’ll post the second part of this narrative. Stay tuned! The second and third parts are not as intense. I promise!**

Angela L. Braden

A Fantastic Resource for Individuals that have Blindness or Low Vision Concerns!!!

2009-07-24T16:28:00.004-06:00

I just got through reading the most recent entries on the American Foundation for the Blind's blog. The information they have posted there was great!!!

I'm ashamed to say that although I have the blog linked here on NuVision, I haven't visited their blog in a few weeks. I've been terribly busy. However, that's still no excuse. I should make it my business to stay informed about issues that impact individuals with blindness and low vision.

I strongly encourage my readers to check out AFB's blog! You won't be disappointed.

Much love to my readers!
Angie B.

Kathy Martinez: A Blind Woman That's Doing Great Things!!!

2009-07-24T13:59:00.006-06:00

**i'm always inspired when I hear about people with disabilities doing great things. And it's even more exciting to me that Kathy Martinez is blind, a woman, and Latina. There's no doubt that being apart of three minority groups can make this road more difficult to travel. Ladies like Kathy Martinez are a reminder to me and others that professional success is achievable if you believe in yourself!**

From Diversity Inc. Magazine (March 23, 2009):

Obama Nominates ODEP Asst. Secretary Kathy Martinez
By Zayda Rivera

Internationally recognized disability-rights leader Kathy Martinez was nominated for assistant secretary for the Office of Disability Employment Policy (ODEP) by President Barack Obama on March 20.

Martinez, who has been blind since birth, specializes in employment, asset building, independent living, international development, and diversity and gender issues from her work as executive director of the World Institute on Disability (WID). Her impressive resume includes Proyecto Vision, WID's National Technical Assistance Center to increase employment opportunities for Latinos with disabilities in the United States, and Access to Assets, an asset-building project to help reduce poverty among people with disabilities.

She was also responsible for leading the team that produced the acclaimed
international webzine Disability World ( http://www.disabilityworld.org/ ) in both English and Spanish...

Preview of Black in america 2 (Part 3 of 3)

2009-07-23T15:26:00.006-06:00

The date and time had finally arrived. It was 6:59 PM, and in less than one minute my preview of CNN's Black in America was scheduled to begin. My nerves started to shutter. I wondered what would all the people in the audience think about me, the unsuspected blind woman. I whispered to my pastor that I was nervous. He put the microphone in my hand, and reminded me that there was no time for fear and anxiety.

With less than one minute to get it together, I dug deep and pulled out one of my best smiles, stood with beauty and strength, and accessed my best voice. At 7:00 on the dot, I greeted my guest with confidence and pure humility. I was honored that so many, over 300, had gathered to participate in an event that I organized. I was thankful that there was no need to be embarrassed just yet. So far, the preview of BIA2 was off to a good start. I greeted everyone, Thanked CNN and my co-host, Dr. Cofield, and then talked a little about the Black in America special that was scheduled to air the next week.

Unfortunately, underneath my confident smile, nervous energy was rising up. I was so glad that I was approaching the time that I could hand the microphone to Dr. Cofield. I realized that even though my blind eyes could not see anything, I had at least 600 eyeballs looking directly at me. I forced my nervous energy under my feet, and smiled as I introduced Dr. Cofield.

Dr. Cofield had a few compelling words, and then the preview of Black in America 2 was presented to all that were in attendance.

It was great!!!

Although I watched the preview days before, it was still incredibly interesting and inspiring when I watched it at the church with my guest!!! I, in particular, enjoyed the segment on Malaak Compton-Rock and Steve Perry.

After the previewed aird, we had a fantastic discussion, which was moderated by Dr. Cofield. My distinguished panelists, which included a Harris County criminal court judge, an award winning radio personality, and a school board member, all did a marvelous job!!!

When the event was finally over, I sighed with relief. I had accomplished a few major things that would not have been accomplished if I hadn't connected with CNN.
A. I helped CNN market this very important documentary.
B. I, along with my friend, Chad, and my pastor, Dr. Cofield, successfully worked together to plan and execute a great event. I learned a lot about teamwork!
C. I met some great people because of this event!!!
D. I learned that fear is my enemy. And I, by all means, should never let fear be my guide.
E. At the end of the night, I realized that I'm ready to put myself out there. I'm ready to share myself with the world.
F. I discovered that the only thing that stands between me and great success is a lack of confidence.
G. I learned how much I really enjoy planning events! It was fun!!!
H. I learned how inspiring people are by my ability to perform despite my blindness. (I really do need to make that fact work for me!)

Before I end this series of posts about me hosting a preview of BIA2, I must thank the following:
CNN!!!
Dr. D.Z. Cofield
Good Hope Missionary Baptist Church
Chad K. Brawley
Judge Michael Fields
Madd Hatta - Host of the Madd Hatta Morning Show (Radio One 97.9 FM)
Patrick Ngwolo
Rose Bell
Wanda Johnson
Stephen Brown
Dr. Wendy Johnson
Michelle Stephenson
Ingrid Ashley
Rosetta Mayes
Crystal Reagans
Art Hooker
Dave Donaldson
Friends and Family

**I watched Black in America 2 last night and tonight. Tomorrow, I'll post a review. Here's a teaser... I think that it was actually very, very good! **

Angie Braden

Preview of CNN's Black in America 2 (Part 2 of 3)

2009-07-22T13:45:00.005-06:00

As soon as I received my package from CNN, I called my friend and told him the great news. We immediately began strategizing on how we can plan and execute a successful prescreening of BIA2. We agreed that approaching our pastor with the idea of co-hosting the event would surely ensure a successful event.

That afternoon, we approached our pastor, Dr. D.Z. Cofield, who is also the Vice President of the NAACP-Houston Chapter. Being a person that is quite concerned about the condition and progress of African American people, Dr. Cofield quickly agreed to co-host the event with me, and to allow me to use Good Hope Missionary Baptist Church to show the preview and conduct the panel discussion.

We hit the ground running. We had only a week to market the event, to invite panelists for the discussion, and to make all the final arrangements with CNN. A few of us teamed together and made Facebook and Twitter work for us. I worked closely with Dr. Cofield to select a range of distinguished panelists that would offer insight, wisdom, and expertise in our discussion. I commissioned a very talented filmographer, by the name of Arthur Hooker to capture the event with his camera.

A week later, after sending dozens of e-mails, making countless phone calls, updating my Facebook and Twitter status several times each day, and inviting nearly 2,000 people on Facebook, the time had arrived. It was Thursday, July 16th; and this event that I had worked so hard to plan was finally at my fingertips.

**Stay tuned for the final installment of this series of posts.**

The premier of CNN's Black in America 2 will air tonight on CNN. Don't forget to watch!!! I promise you won't be disappointed!

Wednesday, July 22, 2009 on CNN
*All times Eastern

7:00pm – 8:00pm Moment of Truth: Countdown to Black in America 2

8:00pm – 9:00pm Presidential News Conference

Preview of CNN's Black in America 2 (Part 1 of 3)

2009-07-19T10:01:00.002-06:00

This month, an amazing opportunity presented itself to me. Because of my blog and my connection to other larger African American blogs, CNN became aware of NuVision for a Nuday. Simply amazing!!!

Perhaps a year ago, I started getting updates from their PR folks about many of the specials and news stories that are deemed to be of some interest to African Americans. I always thought it was cool to get e-mails from CNN. But I must admit that I thought it was some sort of robotic, mass mailing service to bloggers of color; and I just happened to be one of them.

One day, I decided to reply to one of the messages to see if it would just bounce back undeliverable. I asked them why they were sending me programming updates via e-mail. Honestly, I don't know why I replied to the e-mail at all. I truly didn't expect a response back. Ten minutes later, I received a personal message from one of their PR folks, explaining why they selected me to receive notices of interviews and programs that would be interesting to African Americans.

I was immediately impressed! I thought it was amazing that CNN:
A. cared enough about African Americans to make an attempt to consider diversity in their programming initiatives.
B. understands the power and reach of the African American blogger.
C. is progressive enough to tap into the boundless marketing possibilities of blogs and social networking sites.
D. employs a personal touch when communicating with bloggers.

A few months after receiving that personal message, I started getting updates about their groundbreaking special, Black in America 2. Even though I didn't really enjoy last year's Black in america, I started looking forward to this year's. Many of the e-mails that came from CNN provided teasers of some of the things that would be covered this year, and I was impressed. I traveled to the website, and the content there seemed wonderful also.

A couple weeks later, some of my blogging buddies were posting status updates on Facebook, commenting on prescreenings of Black in America that they had attended in their hometowns. I bounced over to my e-mail and sent a message to CNN, asking them if they could let me know if any screenings were going on in Houston.

I got a response in about 5 minutes. Impressed again!!!

They told me that the prescreening in Houston had already occured, but I could host one myself if I wanted to. Of course I wanted to!!! So, I told them that I absolutely wanted to host a prescreening of the special. And three days later, a package arrived on my doorstep from CNN!

**This is 1 of 3 posts. I'll post the rest later today or tomorrow.**

Random Reflections About Very Specific Things

2009-07-19T06:11:00.002-06:00

These are my random reflections.

1. Last week, July 12th, to be exact, I walked into a new age range. No longer will I be able to check the box on surveys, where my old age used to live. Now, I'll be checking a new box. And this new box is reserved for the more mature crowd. And you know what? I'm cool with that.

One of my closest friends was shocked that I was coping with getting older so well. I tried to explain to her that I simply made a decision that I wasn't going to let it get me down. Plus, I realize the only way you can live is if you get older. The two actions are conjoined, and there is no separating them.

2. I read an article the other day that said that only 20% of blind folks were employed. I'm so glad to be in the number! Yeah, I wish I made more money, but at least I do make some.

3. I wish I could get a job that paid me what I'm worth. Being broke all the darn time is nerve wrecking. Not to mention, it's quite unfair to me as a professional, college educated, competent woman. Somehow, someway, this has got to end!

4. My social circles are expanding. And for that, I thank God!

5. Crybabies make me sick!

6. Even though three planes have fallen out the sky this summer, I still wish I was on one of those metal birds. I need a vacation!!!

7. I only like homecooked breakfast food. Breakfast from fastfood joints is yucky!!!

8. I only put on a bra and shoes when I have to. LOL And right now, I wish I wasn't having a "have to" moment. This bra is getting on my nerves! LOLOL Just keeping it real!

9. I need a good book to read. Any suggestions?

10. I wish I had someone in my life that would romance me a little. I'm not really interested in marriage right now. I just want someone I can connect with in a more intimate, loving way.

Why am I not interested in marriage right now? Well, my family life, my responsibility to my mother, makes it difficult for me to think about being responsible for one more person. And when you're married, you have to give so much. Right now, I can't give what I think is required out of a "wife". So, I'll reframe from trying to be what I can't do well. But I have no doubt in my mind that I can be a good girlfriend.

11. I'm sitting here at the hospital with my mother. She just told the docs she wish she could just die. That's something she says often when we're around the house. Honestly, I don't really think she means it. But this time, I think she meant it. and that, makes my heart so sad.

12. Thank God for an internet connection at the hospital!!! Sitting at the hospital with family is so much easier for me than it used to be, simply because of my lap top and the hospital's internet connection.

What I think is interesting is that the hospital's server has blocked access to Facebook. I guess the hospital's staff were using social networking sites too much. Hilarious!!!

**Angie Braden**

Still a Virgin

2009-07-08T04:31:00.004-06:00

I'm sure that most of you can remember your first time.

Unfortunately, I can't say that I've been fortunate enough to have that unforgettable experience.

Why haven't I?

Well, various circumstances and a lack of opportunity have left me void of that first experience that most people have by the time their 21.

I'm told that the "first time" can be somewhat clumsy and rigid. But once you push pass your trepidation, it is awesome!

Too bad that I'm relegated to remaining a virgin for the rest of my life.

Be optimistic, you say?

Well, at this point, I don't ever expect to get my sight back, not unless a medical miracle occurs in my lifetime. So, as long as I can't see, I'll never get a chance to sit behind the wheel of a car and drive it down a street.

(You thought I was talking about sex, didn't you?!!!! LOL that’s not the only kind of virgin a person can be. Expand your thinking!!! LOLOL)

Last month, my sister bought a new car. I rode with her to take the final paperwork back to the dealership, so that her purchase could be final. When we rode off the car lot, my heart unexpectedly started to quake.

There I was, sitting in the passenger seat of her shiny black car, feeling an emotion that I’m not quite familiar with. Jealousy... And as we rode down FM 1960, that jealousy morphed into a twinge of profound sadness.

I silently considered why I was feeling this way. I've been the passenger in plenty cars and trucks. So, why did this particular ride bother me so much?

I realized at that very moment that I, Angela Braden, never got a chance to sit behind a wheel and drive. I never had the chance to have a driver's license. And I will likely never have the chance to purchase a vehicle that I will be able to legally drive. For a few profound minutes, on that sunny afternoon, it was hard for me to accept that large dose of reality, which was violently splashed right in my face.

But because I refuse to host or attend any pity parties, I quickly tore up the invitation to be depressed about my aging virginity. I angled the air condition vents directly on me, leaned back in my seat, and enjoyed the heat from the Houston sun across my face as I was being chauffeured back to my house in a shiny, new car. How many folks can say that they have a team of personal drivers?! LOL

Take this bit of advice from a blind woman... It's all in how you "choose" to see it!!!

All the best to you!
Angela Braden

A Visual Memory that I'll Cherish for Life: Michael Jackson!

2009-06-27T10:22:00.003-06:00

Thursday afternoon, I walked into the gameroom to talk to my mom for a second. While I was standing there, news of Michael Jackson being rushed to the hospital by ambulance broke. I immediately sat down to learn more about what was going on with my favorite childhood superstar. Three hours later, we found out that Michael Jackson was dead. My heart sank.

No, I didn't personally know Michael Jackson. But his music, his ability to capture the world's attention, and his commitment to artistic excellence struck me and had indelible impact on how I saw myself and the world we live in.

Michael was not just a celebrity, he was a legend. He was not just a dancer, he was revolutionary. Michael was not just a singer, he was a phenomena.

And I’m so glad that I got a chance to SEE him myself. I don’t think that anyone could have effectively described how Michael moved when he danced, how amazing the music videos were, and how people all over the world reacted when they witnessed his musical charisma.

I remember the album covers of Off the Wall and Thriller so vividly. It’s almost like I can still see them now. Michael was absolutely gorgeous to me!!! Beautiful skin, hair, eyes, and smile...

As incredible as it may sound, I also truly remember the many dance moves that Michael did in the Thriller, Beat It, and Billie Jean videos. That’s how captivated I was with him and his ability to express himself artistically.

And even though I got a chance to see Michael live in concert at the Astrodome when he did the Victory Tour, the performance I will never-ever forget was the Motown 25 television special. When I saw Michael, I was in a trance. He was so beautiful! And when he started moving… Oh my goodness!!! There are no words to describe how time froze for those few minutes. I’ll never forget! The glove… The hat… And that dance move that blew the world away!

Honestly, I don’t feel sad for Michael. His life was full of glorious opportunities that he was able to take full advantage of. In addition, Michael selfishly shared his gift with all of us. He absolutely made the best of the 50 years that were granted to him.

My friend, Randy, wrote a song about how there are so many treasures that are buried in the graveyard, simply because people were too afraid, too faithless, too selfish to transform their dreams to reality when they were alive. I beg you to not let that be you. Don’t let them bury your gifts and talents in the casket with your lifeless body. Give life to the gifts that God has stored in you from birth!

Yes, we die. But our gifts to the world can live forever. Michael is dead. But his gift to the world will live for decades, and perhaps centuries.

May Michael Joseph Jackson rest in sweet peace; and may his gift to the world live forever.

Angela Braden
Lifetime Fan

Waiting in the Dark

2009-06-21T23:39:00.005-06:00

A couple days ago, one of my best friends told me that her boyfriend always reminds her to call me back. She said that he doesn't like the idea that I'm sitting around in the dark, waiting for her to call. So, he often pushes her to call me, the blind friend, back.

Um, really?

Is that the only reason why "my friend" would need to call me back? To save me from a life of dark bordem? To save me from being lonely and blind? To save me from myself?

I guess calling me back because I'm a friend is not a good enough reason in his mind.

I know that when my friend reads this, she will likely be disappointed that I wrote about it. But I'm not writing about it to express anger in her man. I'm not even writing about it to put the brotha on blast. **So, don't take offense to this.**

The reason why I'm taking time to write about it is to point out how many people perceive me. Most of the people that I've come in contact with see me as a lonely, blind chick that lives in the dark, with no friends, and charitable family to care for me.

I hate that people see me as the "blind friend". I don't want to be the "blind church member". I don't want to be Frances, Paula, and Kim's "blind sister". And I'm shonuff sick of being Mama and Daddy's "blind daughter".

Because when people start seeing you as the "blind one", then they place different expectations and demands on the relationship. And many of those expectations and demands are unfounded and basically ridiculous.

Yes, I need a sighted guide to get around. Yes, I may need some assistance knowing what color some clothing items are. Yes, I need people to read to me from time to time.

But I don't need a special provisional friendship. I just need my friends to be a friend. Not a friend to the blind... But a friend to a friend...

But I might as well give up on that wish. I am the "blind lady" in all of my circles. It is what it is.

However I refuse to play the role that people are trying to assign to me. I will just be me. And from what I gather, to my real friends, the people that "know" me, being me is good enough.

**To my friend: Please, please don't be offended because I wrote about this. I'm not trying to slander your man. I'm just thinking out loud. And when I do think out loud about blindness related issues, it get's splattered on my blog, NuVision.
Love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Angie**

Finally!

2009-06-18T19:17:00.002-06:00

After years and years of having a cell phone, I finally can do more than just talk on my phone. Thanks to advancements in assistive technology for cellular phones, I can now text message, browse the internet, listen to music, send and receive e-mails, manage the phonebook, and change my ring-tones, all independently.

Of course, being able to send a text message is not an essential part of my life. But for many years I was blocked out of being able make the most of my phone, simply because accessibility was not an option for so many cell phone manufacturers.

And because barriers absolutely bother me, I was always annoyed that I couldn't do a simple task like enter a name in the phonebook of my cell phone. So, for the last 15 years, I've hoped that technology would be created to knock those barriers down. And finally, there are companies that are dedicated to creating a product that is accessible for blind cell phone consumers. Yipee!!!

The program I use is Mobile Speak for Windows. This program was created by Code Factory. And it works marvelously on my Palm Treo.

I'm able to do almost anything on my phone, like a sighted person would. Of course, I'm having to not only learn how to use the Treo; I'm having to learn how to use the Mobile Speak as well. That's a little challenging. But the rewards far outweigh the time and energy I'm having to use to learn the phone.

The greatest benefit of having speech on my phone is the feature that allows me to enter information into my phonebook. For so many years, I was not able to save phone numbers. That was fine when my memory was in tip top condition. But now that I'm getting a little older, being able to have a telephone number in an easily accessible format is incredibly important. Already, after only having my phone for a couple months, I have 150 contacts saved in my phone. I suspect that number will increase over time.

Another aspect of my phone I enjoy is the possibility of sending someone a quick text message. So many times, I need to say something to someone, but do not want to actually call them. Texting truly works in those situations.

If you want to learn more about Mobile Speak, visit the manufacturer's website.
http://www.codefactory.com

Blessings!
Angie

The Prayers of a Blind Aunt

2009-06-01T05:27:00.005-06:00

Last night, my sister informed me that my youngest niece's eye is swollen and it has mucus leaking from it. She said the doctors wanted to know more about my eye condition.

My heart shook at the very notion that the baby could possibly have an eye condition that could impact her sight. And it even more shook me up that her undiagnosed eye problem somehow drew a line back to me, her blind aunt.

The doctors want to know more about me and the dreadful disease that brutally stole my sight, and later my left eye. I guess they are trying to make sure that this baby doesn't become a victim of what overtook me in my younger years.

I always dream about what I would like to give my nieces and nephew as they grow older. But I am sickened at the idea that any child that is connected to me may get what I got. I somehow would feel responsible, like I gave it to them. And I'm not sure how I could live with doctors always pointing their fingers at me, as if my blindness dripped from me to one of the kids.

Yeah, I know... This makes no sense. I'm not the parent. I'm the aunt! But in a strange, ridiculous way, I would feel responsible. I would feel like I gave the kids that problem.

I'm praying for my 2.7 pound niece to continue on the track of growth and healing. But in the last few hours, I've specifically prayed for her eyes to heal and return to God's original design. And I must admit that my prayer for her eyes to get better is partially for selfish reasons. I want her to get better for herself, and so that I won't have to deal with all the emotions that will come if she does indeed have the eye disease that has taken up residence in my brown eyes.

**God bless Elyssa Adriana Perez. May God's healing power flow into her tiny body. May she continue to develop into the healthy, loving baby we all hope she will be. God, touch her lungs, eyes, and heart. You know the problem and the solution. She's in Your capable and loving hands. Amen.**

"Beautiful Blind Women"

2009-05-21T03:10:00.003-06:00

Every week, I check the stats on my blog. I'm always amazed with what queries lead people to my very unique blog. Here's what comes up the most.

"What is it like to be blind?"
"To be blind"
"I hate being blind."

But the one that always catches my attention is this... "beautiful blind woman"

And that query is entered pretty often. Folks from all over the world are using that phrase to search on Google and Yahoo. And most of the time, Google and Yahoo lead those people straight to my blog.

I know why Google and Yahoo grab my blog to appear in the search string. In the description of my blog, I mention blind and beautiful in the same sentence. Yes, I think I'm beautiful! **healthy self esteem**

But here's what I wonder... Who's looking for beautiful, blind women? And why are they looking for them? And the better question is... When they find my blog, do they think they have found a beautiful blind woman? LOL

Just wonddering out loud on my blog... I need to go to bed! It's 4:20 AM.

Please Introduce Yourself

2009-05-21T02:56:00.002-06:00

I've noticed that traffic has slowed down here on my blog. It is quite likely that my readers have stopped coming here because I've been so slow to post. I'm sorry about that!!!

I have so much I need to say. So much I want to say... And interestingly enough, most of what I need and want to say, I don't feel I should say it here. That's why the posts have slowed down.

Also, I would like to hear from you more! I hoped that NuVision would be a platform for discussion. But my voice is usually the only one that's heard here.

Of course, I have my regulars that stop in from time to time. Ensayn, Sacredly Breathing, Chi-Chi, Lovebabz, MackDiva, and a few others. I even have a new visitor, who has been so kind to my blog. Thanks Becky!!!

And then there are those that cruise through my spot, but never leave a comment. Please tell me who you are!!! I would love to know what do you think of the blog. Heck, what do you think of me?

So, Montgomery, Vegas, Chicago... Let me hear from you. Introduce yourself!!!

I don't bite. Well, not unless you're a piece of bread or a fine man. LOLOL Carbs and fine men just have that affect on me!

"You can see shapes and colors, right?"

2009-05-18T08:14:00.002-06:00

People are often shocked that I cannot see anything at all. Even after I confess to being completely blind, there are some that still cannot wrap their minds around the fact that means I can't see anything.

They ask me:
"You can't see shadows?"
"Can you see colors?"
"You can see a little bit, huh?"
"You're TOTOALLY blind?"
"You can't see anything?!"

Even though I know I will have to continue to answer those questions, sometimes multiple times to the same person, allow me to provide some clarity to anyone that stumbles upon my blog.

I can't see colors, shapes, shadows, figures, artificial light, or sunlight.

I'm as blind as they come!

I guess it's just hard for some people to imagine "seeing nothing". Shucks, it's hard for me to imagine it too.

But it's no imaginary moment for me. This darkness that I've been sentenced to is real, inescapable, and constant. No matter how hard I concentrate, I don't see any flashes of color. No matter how close I hold a flashlight in front of my eye, I only feel the heat. I see nothing. No matter how tight I grip my eyes shut, and then open them again, the scenery doesn't change.

I cannot see. And for me, that means I cannot see anything. I wish I could see something...anything... But so far, wishing hasn't changed what I can see.

So, I don't focus on the darkness that extends from my sick eyes. I focus on the light that is within. And because of that light, I can see something! I see more than the eyes can handle. I see what perfectly functioning eyes cannot see.

I see God!

Angela Braden

The Tunnel

2009-05-04T20:08:00.004-06:00

The average person has a 180 degree field of vision that they can access to perceive the world. When I contracted the thievish Glaucoma, my field of vision was the first dimension of my sight to be draped by the black cloth of blindness. The walls began to close in as my peripheral vision departed. If I wanted to see something that was on the side of my face, I would have to turn my head to see it. So, If there was something that I needed to see, but didn’t know it was there, I wouldn’t see it at all.

The loss of my peripheral vision proved to be significant when it was time to play with my neighborhood buddies. Being the average, American, ten-year-old girl, I loved to play outside with my friends. We would play kickball, freeze-tag, dodgeball, and would even have a daily foot or bike race down the middle of our young, suburban street.

When my eye sight began to fade, my play time started losing its zeal and carefree participation. I started avoiding the frequent games of dodgeball that was starting to leave my once quick legs splattered with red and purple splashes of pain. I started getting kicked out of kickball because of my inability to follow the flying blue and red ball when a skilled kicker would catapult it into the sky above our heads. I was always getting tagged in our games of freeze-tag, just because I wouldn’t always be able to detect when the “it” person was running on the side of me.

Although most of my play activities had been impacted by my narrowing vision, there was still one activity I could do well. I could still run or spin the pedals in a good race! When it was time to race, the only thing that mattered to the kid that was racing was the finish line. And the finish line was always in front. Not to the side… But straight ahead… This was not a problem for a girl with tunnel vision. So, when it was time to run or ride in a race, I would quickly volunteer to participate.

One day, the kids and I had agreed to race two bike riders down to the green house, which was about eight houses down from the starting spot. Once we got down to the green house, we were to turn around and head back to the finish line, the original starting spot.

I was ready! I jumped on my 10-speed bike and locked my eyes on the green house. The kids screamed go, and my legs started rapidly drawing invisible circles all the way to the green house.

I could hear the kids screaming behind me as I reached the green house. I was the first to make it. I quickly turned my bike around and started heading back to the finish line.

All of the sudden a car turned on our street and was headed right for me. Being the responsible bike rider that I was always trained to be, I quickly shifted my handle bars to drive my speeding bicycle out of the path of the slow driving car. I thought I was in the safety zone until I realized that my speed machine was about to careen into a large industrial van that was parked on the side of the road.

I abruptly squeezed the metal brakes on my shiny handlebar. But it was too late. As the slow driving vehicle passed me, my bike smashed into the back of the van that sat quietly and invisibly on the side of the road.

My small body was knocked off the saddle of the bike; and the wind was knocked out of my body. I lied on the warm cement, staring at the bright red blood that spilled from my right elbow, the dirty van, my damaged bike, and the approaching band of laughing children. By the time the kids made it to me, I was barely breathing. None of them asked if I was okay. “You lost!”, they screamed.

I knew then that life, more specifically, my life had changed. I suddenly realized that this tunnel vision that I heard the doctor say dozens of times really was as dangerous as they described it to be.

I lifted my limp body from the ground, grabbed my bike, and silently walked my bike and unveiled reality back to my sanctuary. I said nothing to the teasing children. I said nothing to myself. I just looked up at the clear sky, and back down to the clean gray street, that now had drippings of my fresh blood.

I left my bike, as well as my visual confidence on the porch and went inside of my house, declaring that would be my last time on my bike. It was…

Angela L. Braden
**Narrative of a Blinding Girl**

1 out of 8 Billion

2009-04-24T11:00:00.004-06:00

**I've been meaning to write about this in the last few months. Here goes...**

A few weeks before Thanksgiving, my sister, Paula, the mother of two of the children I absolutely adore, called me and gave me some bad news. She informed me that her house had burned to the ground, and they were homeless. Well, of course, because she is my sister, homeless was not even an option. Without hesitation, I moved my sister, her husband, and their two children into our home.

Joseph, who is seven-years-old, insisted on sleeping with his auntie every single night. For some strange reason, he preferred to sleep with me over his mom and dad. And because I love him so much, that was alright with me.

Plus, I might as well share the bed with Joseph. I'm not sharing it with anyone else. LOL

Every night before going to bed, Joseph liked to spend about ten minutes discussing the house fire, his day at school, and desires he had for the future. He also liked to ask me all types of weird questions. But hey, he's 7. There are no silly questions when you're 7.

Well, this particular night that I'll never forget, Joseph lied in my bed in silence. Finally, he called my name. I already knew he had a question for me.

Joseph: Ann, how many people are there in the world?
Me: I don't know Joseph. Maybe 8 billion...

I expected another question. But he didn't say anything else. Then finally, after a few minutes, he broke his silence.

Joseph: You're the only one in the whole world that's blind?
Me: Um, no.
Joseph: Well, where are the other blind people? Where do they live?
Me: What?

I was like, "What in the world is he talking about?" But then I suddenly realized that I am the only blind person that Joseph knows. I'm likely the only blind person he's ever seen before.

I grew up seeing Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles on television. But Joseph's generation doesn't see that many images of blind people on television anymore. Ray has passed away. And Stevie pretty much comes out for very special occasions. So, in Joseph's little head, it really does seem like I'm the only one in the whole wide world that's blind.

Joseph found it necessary to squeeze in one last question before falling asleep. He touched my face so endearingly and asked, "Why did God make you blind and let everybody else see?"

GOOD QUESTION, JO JO LOLOLOL

No, that's not how I responded. I just explained to him that God didn't make me blind. And then I explained to him that there are thousands of blind people who live all over the world. I told him that one day, I'll take him to go meet some children that are blind, so that he can meet children that live life like his auntie. I reassured him that even though most people can see, I'm okay with being blind.

Before he could muster up another question, I gave my love the benediction for the night.

**Quick thought... Whenever I leave this world and go to be at rest, my nieces and nephew will have a treasure of memories that I will have left them on this blog. That's great!!!**

RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT VERY SPECIFIC THINGS

2009-04-12T02:30:00.004-06:00

These are my random thoughts.
**It's 3:30 AM. And I'm so sleepy that I feel drunk. I'm warning you. LOL**

1. I hate that it seems that my body loves fat. It doesn't mind welcoming new fat. And it fights to hold on to undesirable fat.
I'm here to serve an eviction notice. Excessive Fat, you need to go! I have had it with you!

2. I am angry with myself for gaining weight. I feel so stupid for allowing myself to pick up weight that I worked so hard to lose. Why couldn't I just continue to work out everyday?! **sighing**

3. Why are clothes so expensive? I went to the mall tonight. I saw a couple cute suits that would be great atire for a speaking engagement. But the $150 and up price tags were a major issue. **sigh**
If they are paying women in other countries 2 pennies to make these clothes, then why in the hell are they so high? American greed, I tell you!

4. This hair dryer is burning my neck. I guess I need to get a towel and drape it around my shoulders.
This is why 9.5 times out of 10, I let my hair air-dry. This heat is bothersome.

5. I wish I could see.

6. The weather in Houston has been nice. I wish it could stay like this all year.

7. Ladama crossed my mind a minute ago. Who is Ladama?
Ladama was my roommate in high school. We lived together for three years.
Sadly, two years ago, my friend died of cancer.
I wonder why God would take her home and leave me here.
There must be something He requires from me.
I must make the best of this time He has given me.

8. I'm not sure if I want to get married. But a boyfriend would sure be nice.

9. I want my parents to live forever.

10. I'm so tired. So, why is it that I don't give myself permission to rest?
I've suffered from inconsistent sleeping patterns since I was a teen. For some strange reason, I cannot sleep, unless I am about to pass out. Ridiculous! I've got to start doing better.

11. I wish I was rich.

12. The value of my house dropped by $30K. I'm pi$$ed!

13. My neck is still burning. Where's a towel?

14. I don't want to go to church in the morning. But I'll be there.

14. I want to video tape my next speaking engagement. However, I'm reluctant to allow someone to record me at this weight. I need to try to lose some weight first!

15. I'm about to get from under this dryer, and get in the bed. I've reached that level of tired.

Good night

AB

Darkness to Light (Repost)

2009-04-10T23:27:00.001-06:00

At the tender age of ten tribulation crashed upon me like a boulder to my head. Without any perceivable warning, I developed a severe case of Glaucoma in both of my eyes. The discovery of this thieving disease, unmercifully engaged my parents, my doctors, and me into a seven year, painstaking war to save at least a fraction of my fleeting sight. I endured 14 painful surgeries and countless visits to my eye specialist.
It did not take long for me to run to the arms of Jesus for comfort. I also wanted him to grant me perfect health. I had been told all my life that God was a healer. I earnestly believed with all my heart that God was going to heal me of my illness. Why wouldn't he?
I continued to fast and pray for the next few years. But instead of getting my sight back, I eventually lost it all. The light of day was captured in my head, only to serve as a mere memory. I was now totally blind. I never imagined that I would ever be visually disconnected from the world. What was I going to do? I never planned for this to happen. In fact, I never believed that this miserable day would come. I thought for sure that God would have healed me by then. How was I to function as a blind woman?
Because my persistent prayer for healing seemed to be ignored, I collapsed into a greater depth of depression than I could have ever imagined. A storm of defeat washed over me, and my mind began to travel to the land of sorrow. I trembled at the thought of living my life as a blind woman. I began to ask myself, "Will anyone marry me if I have a visual disability? Who wants a 'blindy' for a wife? How can I be a mother with no eye sight? Do I still have a chance at a promising career?" I knew one thing and one thing only. I would rather die than become an old blind woman. I became consumed with the idea of being "blind forever."
I had trouble sleeping. My heart hemorrhaged with pain. Fear caused me to lie restless until the rebirth of dawn. I was so frightened that I would fall asleep and wake up still without the vision of day.
Desperately enough, I wanted to die. Thoughts of suicide fought to apprehend me. I was obsessed with the idea of death. I would daydream about creative ways to kill myself.
All my life, I was told, "If you believe, then you will receive", "If you ask in Jesus' name, it will come to pass", "All it takes to be healed is mustard seed faith." Well, I began to believe that God's promises were all a lie. Why wasn't I a recipient of the promises of God?
Then I began to wonder was something wrong with me. Perverse thoughts began to storm through my head. "God must not love me. If he did he would give me my sight back. God will never heal me. I am paying for the sins of my forefathers."
It seemed that sound reasoning had been evacuated. The devil convinced me to believe the pack of lies he tossed my way. I started to decay within, due to my deprivation of truth.
The cloud of depression grew thicker, and the light of Jesus Christ seemed to diminish. Hope for my healing had vanished, and the love of God was no longer visible to me. Not only did I lose my physical sight, my spiritual vision had also been blurred. Spirits of heaviness, despair, defeat, and fear swarmed around me and attempted to choke the life from my soul. I was dying, both physically and spiritually.
But I wasn't dead yet! God can restore and heal the wounded soul. The Lord breathed the restoration of life into my soul, and I embraced the comfort that He affords believers who trust Him even when they are in confusing, hurtful, strained situations.
I am so thankful to God that He used the faithful, kind, and persistent ministry of a college friend to rescue me from the depths of sadness and sorrow. Yes, I am still physically blind; however, God has granted me spiritual vision. Vision that will enable me to press forward and remain focused on maximizing my life potential.
God wants us to love, trust, and maintain our faith even when times get hard. I am a living witness that it is difficult to follow God when the way is dim. But we must stand on his word and know it is true. We are commanded to walk in faith and not to base our decisions in accordance to the things we see.
When the darkness of night falls all around us, the sun is not visible to the eye. But that does not mean it is not there. The earth has revolved and caused a delusion. The sun seems to disappear at the dusk of every evening. Then the moon makes its nightly appearance. The light from the moon is simply a reflection of the sun, reminding us that the sun is still alive.
It wasn't until I loss my sight that I began to “see”. Over the years, I began to understand the difference between sight and vision. Sight is a function of the eyes. But vision is a function of the spirit. There are many people that have sight. But very few possess vision.
The Lord desires for us to utilize our spiritual vision by way of faith, so that we might see the plan of God. God does not work off of facts. He is a God of possibilities. Don't become blinded by what you see. Look beyond the physical rim and focus on the promises of God. Never forget that God is able to do what man deems to be impossible. Open your eyes, and see the glory of the Lord!

Angie Braden

Broken Pieces

2009-04-01T09:42:00.004-06:00

A couple weeks ago, my aunt, who has made it abundantly clear that she has nothing but disdain towards me, stopped by the house to bring my family copies of individual and family photos. She placed copies of specific photos in various envelopes, and labeled the envelope with the names of the persons she intended to have those particular pictures.

Well, of course, I needed assistance with identifying my envelope. My sister opened the envelope that was labeled for "Angela". To our dismay, we found more than just pictures of me as a child, teenager, and young adult.

What we found were pictures that had been sliced into creepy, violent displays of her anger towards me.

Yes, my aunt, my mother's sister, is so angry with me that she found it necessary to gather pictures of me, cut them up, place them in an envelope, and drive them 20 miles from her home to deliver them to my hand.

The truth is that I am not quite sure why this woman hates me so much. I, along with my mother and father, have our suspicions why my aunt has so much hatred in her heart towards me. But the truth is that I cannot understand the intensity of the hate.

Yes, she is mentally ill. But again, why has she decided to angle her pain, anger, resentment, bitterness, and resentment towards me? It's so baffling to me.

What I found to also be confusing is the fact that my aunt would cut up pictures and give them to a blind woman. I can't see them. So, the effect was lost in the darkness that extends from my eyes. I'm sure she didn't think about that.

I'm supposing that the visual image of the pictures would have probably disturbed me. Just holding the sliced up pictures in my hands kind of shook me up. So, seeing it would have likely had a profound impact on me.

But I didn't see them. And this time, I'm glad that I couldn't see.

I believe that my relationship with my aunt is intractable. Our relationship has been sliced, just as the pictures in the envelope. Except, we can take those pictures and put them together and scan them to restore the image. There is no tool, no method, no pressure that can restore my relationship with my aunt.

And the sad thing is that I'm okay with that. I truly am done. I hate it has to be this way. But it does... I have decided that I will no longer be a participant in that abusive relationship.

The End

**Note: One other sister also received cut up pictures. But we know why she's so mad at her. We are in the fog as it pertains to me.
I made a decision to not tell my mother about the pictures. She didn't need to see that. It would have hurt her to know that her sister is that hateful.
I also made a decision to not acknowledge the sliced up pictures to my aunt. I will not entertain her nonsense any longer.**

Angela Braden
Free Woman

Used for His Glory: That is truly my Prayer

2009-03-28T12:28:00.002-06:00

"My life is not my story. It is God’s story.” Pastor Jeffrey Richardson

Each day, I’m learning that our life is not our own. And that God, in all of his infinite wisdom and authority, sometimes allows awful things to happen in the lives of His children to mature them, to demonstrate His glory, and to draw the lost and/or hurting to the cross. Again, this life that we have was created to bring God glory. And the most awesome thing about God is that He can get glory out of the most dark, fractured, shattered, smelly situations.

But that is only if the person that is enduring the affliction is willing to surrender to the plan that God has etched out for their life. This is a hard pill to swallow when you’re sick or disabled.

After becoming ill, I began to pray and fast for my healing. I attended every healing crusade in the area, and literally splashed myself with blessed oil daily. I truly believed that God could and would heal me. But despite all of my speaking in tongues, fasting and praying, and crusade hopping, I ended up losing all of my sight at 17. I was crushed. I couldn’t understand why God would deny my petition to be healed. It took years for me to trust God enough to “be open” to His plan for my life, even if that life included blindness.

What God has revealed to me over the years is that I had faith to believe that He could “heal” me. But I didn’t have faith that He could sustain me despite my blindness; nor could He exemplify His glory in the life of a blind woman. To simplify it, I really didn’t “believe God” like I said I did.

I learned over time that God’s impact in my life is greater than it would’ve been if He had healed me in the early years. Because of the lessons that God has unfolded in my illness, I’ve matured and grown closer to Him. I’ve learned how to trust God, even when I can’t detect His presence. I’ve learned that God is not only a healer, but a sustainer too. I’ve learned that it takes more faith to believe that God can get the glory out of a blinding situation than one that is illuminated with clarity and human explanations.

In addition to God revealing Himself to me through this illness, my life has been a testament to others that God can truly be glorified in the darkest situation. So many people have been encouraged to be strong during the absolute dark times of life, just because of their exposure to my “literal” dark experience. I’m glad that God has been able to use my blindness to speak to His people and to give them hope that He is the light.

I’m not completely sure how and to what extent God is going to use my life to further the kingdom agenda. But I am certain that I am now more willing than ever to allow God to use “all” aspects of my life to bless His people than I was before.

“My life is not my story. It is God’s story.”

Angela L. Braden

Transition

2009-03-15T17:01:00.003-06:00

I'm experiencing a strange transition. And this transition has kept me from my blog. NuVision has been my home for so long. It has been the place that I felt safe to be me, free to remove my garments, and strong enough to explore parts of my life that I left untouched for so long.

But these days, I'm not feeling so comfy with NuVision. And I'm not sure why.

Perhaps I've said all there is to be said here. Perhaps I'm experiencing my annual burn out. It may be that maintaining this blog feels like work rather than an escape from the grind of daily responsibilities. Or it may possibly be that I'm starting to grow uncomfortable revealing so much of my emotional nudity on a blog that has now started attracting people that "know" me.

Whatever it is, it has kept me from my baby on the web. I have left this blog neglected. I don't even check the stats. And that's strange. Even if I didn't post, my nosiness would cause me to check the stats daily to see who was lurking and peeking in the windows, trying to see what they could see, without making a comment to reveal their presence.

Will I give up NuVision and permanantly retreat to Facebook, the place where I can connect with real people, while revealing one sentence updates about myself? Or will I continue to come here to NuVision and reveal paragraphs of myself to people that I mostly do not know and a few that I do know?

Only time will tell.

In the meantime, I will wait this thing out. And probably by the end of the month, I will decide if I will continue with the blog or say goodbye to my three-year-old friend, who has offered me so much in the last 36 months.

To all of my faithful readers: I love you. I really do! And I wish the best for you. Continue to be patient with me as I either find my voice again or decide if I want my voice heard on this platform.

Lovingly submitted,
Angela L. Braden
Author of NuVision for a NuDay
March 2006 to March 2009

"Watch out."

2009-02-25T11:51:00.002-06:00

I'm not easily offended. I talk about my blindness all the time. And I try to give folks a chance to also talk about it. So, if people have a question or an opinion about my blindness, I pretty much will listen and respond to most of anything. But there are some things that people say that really get on my nerves. For example, I hate it when someone tells me to, "Watch out."

How ridiculous is that?

Why in the world would you tell a blind person to "watch out"? It just doesn't make any sense to me.

It's like telling a person in a wheelchair to "watch their step". Do you see how ridiculous that is?

And I'm not sure if people have said that to me always or if this is something new. But lately, I stop and become defensive every single time someone says that to me.

The first time I noticed it may have had something to do with who said it. A woman that I used to work with, who decided that she was going to hate on the new blind co-worker, said those words to me in the hallway one afternoon. Now, interestingly enough, this was the first thing that this woman had said to me in about six months. So, when she said it, I immediately took notice. Not only was she saying something to me, but she was also telling me to do something that I physically could not do.

When she said it, I stopped dead in my tracks. My eye brows went flying up and I looked straight in her direction with a strange, non-intimidating look on my face. I didn't say anything, and neither did she. I just let her pass me in the hall, and I continued on my path, thinking "You watch out!".

Two final thoughts... I'm so glad I don't work with that woman anymore. Thank you God for freeing me from being in her presence. Perhaps I'll dedicate a post or two to her. LOL
And secondly, I feel that it is my duty to help others see how ridiculous it is to use insensitive language when communicating with others. And telling someone to "watch out" is absolutely insensitive. So, every time someone says that to me, I will be telling them how silly and ridiculous that is.

Have a good week. And remember to think before letting words fly from your mouth. That's not a good look.

Angie Braden

I'm taking questions. (Open Thread)

2009-02-08T02:03:00.002-06:00

I did this nearly 9 months ago. Well, I thought that this is a good time to welcome you guys to ask questions again.

Don't be shy! I'm not.

Don't let trepidation restrict you from asking your question. There are no ignorant questions...Just ignorant assumptions.

Questions lead you to truth. So, if you want to get some truth about me, then shoot your question this way. And unless the question is just plain ridiculous and a horrific invasion of my privacy, I'll answer it.

Have a good week!!!

When You Care

2009-02-07T22:26:00.003-06:00

When you care about someone, you really take risks. Risks that can lead to disappointment, pain, and sheer horror if things go really bad. Risks that can leave your heart bleeding for a lifetime. Risks that can render you helpless, speechless, and faithless. Risks that can make you want to kill someone, that can make you wish that someone would just fall dead, or even make you wish you were dead.

This is why we should approach all relationships with God guarding our hearts and minds. Otherwise, you can end up losing both.

My family relationships have always had some type of challenges in them. But I endure because of love them. It's so sad that I feel that there are certain ones that don't feel the same. I honestly feel that they do not love me. And that hurts more than anything.

I know you cannot possibly pay me back for all that I do. But the least you can do is love me. That's not asking for too much.

Perhaps I shouldn't question their love. Maybe they don't know what love is. Perhaps they don't know how to make love "work".

But I don't know why not. Their parents have demonstrated love in the most generous and plain way. So, why don't you know what love looks like?

Well, with all that being said, I will continue to love. A. Because God tells me to do so. B. And because loving makes me feel better about living.

If you don't have love, you don't have life.

And I refuse to live and be dead.

**Nope, this post was not about me and my disability. But I just needed to get that off my chest. Do I feel better? I think.**

Asking for prayer,
Angela Braden

Brown Eyes (Redraft)

2009-02-07T05:23:00.000-06:00

When I was eight-years-old, I stared into the mirror and captured the image of my face. I looked at my lips and took note of their fullness. I looked at my nose and realized how much I really didn’t like it. It was an okay nose, but I would have picked another one from God’s inventory. I then zoned in on my cheeks. Full, but not too fat… Yep, I had a couple of my daddy’s dimples. I wished that I could somehow poke a couple more dips in my cheeks.

“Not too bad.” I shamelessly thought. I had some pretty good looking features carved into my honey brown skin. Not perfect… But I decided that I was indeed a good looking child.

I continued to stare into the face of a girl that I was becoming more familiar with as each second leaped into the past. Next, I caught a glimpse of my long, long eyelashes. I admired their beauty and reach. Those lashes extended above the image that I would zone in next, my eyes. I looked into the intense, yet innocent, brown eyes of a girl, who was unaware of the dreadful days to come. I studied the brown. It was so rich, pure, and honest. A true brown… Light enough to see the brown. Dark enough to be called brown. But in that brown sea, pain, sickness, and death stirred beneath the surface. I didn’t know it yet, but those brown eyes were the deep brown pits of despair. The brown would unleash the fury that hides behind them and life would change. The brown would fade, and the girl’s image in the mirror of herself would fade with it.

Now, the image of the brown eyes in the mirror is a memory, just as the girl’s innocence and youth. So much has been lost… So much has faded away… The brown hides from the light. The brown lost the fight.

When I stare into the mirror, I see nothing. I don’t see brown. I see black. I am not a child anymore. I am a woman, whose brown eyes died.

How do eyes die? How does brown fade? How does the dark live? Why did brown fade to gray?

My brown eyes. My brown eye. The other eye is gone to meet His maker. The one that is left is no longer brown. But it’s trying to be faithful to the woman who has lost so much since it was brown. These brown eyes of mine have a story to tell. And one day, they will tell their story, and will sing the gospel and the blues.

25 THINGS

2009-01-30T14:44:00.003-06:00

This meme is flying aroudn Facebook like a virus. I started seeing it a few weeks ago. And finally, three folks tagged me in the same day. And since then, the tags have been steadily coming.

And since I haven't posted a blog entry here on NuVision in a few days, I thought I would post my 25 things here as well. There's certainly some info that will be interesting to my readers.

**Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.**

The above were the rules on FB. How about this... If you're one of my readers here at NuVision, consider yourself tagged. Okay? If you want to participate, by all means, do so. But if not, I understand.

1. I had a nasty Mountain Dew habit. I kicked it about 4 months ago. A month later, I started drinking Coca-Cola. And the Coke habit seems to be worse than the MD habit. Tomorrow, I plan to go cold turkey the way I did with MD. The headache meds are on standby.

2. I plan to get some braces whenever my money is right. Although I hate to see grown folks with braces. I would much rather be seen with perfect teeth.

3. I've been blogging for 3 years now. Most of my friends and family have no idea that I have a blog.

4. I can't stand all bugs. But I hate, hate, hate tree roaches. If you want to see me act a fool, just tell me that a flying roach is somewhere near me. One day, I was out with friends at Red Lobster when a roach flew by our table. I near bout turned the table over. I've never been in a RL since then.

5. I have three sisters. My mother has three sisters. My maternal grandmother had three sisters. (I hadn't thought of that until now.)

6. I've been a night owl since I was 14-years-old.

7. Horror movies typically don't scare me. But the demonic ones throw me off. To this day, the Shining freaks me out. I refuse to let anyone watch it in the house.

8. I've worn a size 7 shoe since I was in the 7th grade.

9. I hope to have a play on tour in the next 12 months.

10. As a kid, I wanted to be a lawyer. But Radioscope and Tom Joyner caused me to want to do radio. I didn't do either as an adult. LOL

11. I've had 17 surgeries. 15 eye surgeries, 1 breast surgery, and 1 stomach surgery

12. I have Uveitis and Secondary Glaucoma. I've had the Uveitis since 8, and the Glaucoma since 10.

13. By the time I was 17, I had lost all of my functional vision. I walked across the graduation stage with only light perception. I lost the light perception when I was 19.

14. I was on BET's Teen Summit twice. (Remember that show?) I've also been written about in Upscale, YSB, and Consumer Reports.

15. For about a year, during the time I was in college, I drank at least 3 times a week. I would get so drunk that I would sometimes pass out.

16. Although I would drink like a fish, I never, never did drugs. I believed them when they said, "This is your brain on drugs." Too bad they didn't have a commercial that said, "This is your liver on alcahol."

17. I took an overdose when I was 12-years-old. Not sure if I was trying to kill myself; or if I was crying out for help. I'm thinking I was crying out for help. I told someone about the overdose right after I took the pills.

18. My eye doctor committed suicide when I was 13-years-old. I used to wonder if he had not died would I have ended up losing all my sight. But then, I put my faith in the One that lives! Glory!!! So, I have solace in knowing that God has all of this in His control.

19. My mother had a massive stroke in 2002. Her blind daughter is the primary care giver. And you better believe that I take good care of my mama.

20. Although I love music, my favorite song is "silence". The band Peace and Quiet put it out. They're my favorite group. LOL
In the silence, I hear from God. In the silence, I get healed. In the silence, I find rest.
See why I love that song?

21. I know that I am destined to have a successful speaking business/ministry.

22. I can take what I dish. That's the rule I live by. If I can dish it. Then I need to be able to take the same medicine when it's directed back to me.

23. I spent about 2 years of my life angry at God. I purposely ignored His tug and denied His existence. Thank God He didn't leave me! Grace and Mercy!!! (Don't make me shout up in here!)

24. I made the Dean's List 1 time in undergrad. But I graduated from grad school with a 3.97 GPA.

25. I'm an adjunct professor at a local junior college.

Bonus: 26. I'm trying to stop cursing. I didn't curse for years. But lately, my mouth is a mess. But guess what... Since I've been going back to church, without trying, I've improved. So now, I'm actually trying. So, I expect to have this habit smashed soon. At least, I hope.

"I'm sorry that you're blind."

2009-01-26T20:06:00.003-06:00

Okay, okay, okay... People don't actually say, "I'm sorry that you're blind." But what they do say when they meet me and discover that I'm blind is, "I'm so sorry."

Sorry for what?

The only thing I can think of is that they're sorry that I'm blind. They're just too polite to say so. Remember, they feel sorry for me. They don't want to say the "blind" word. It's must too pitiful to say out loud, especially when talking to the one that is blind.

All day yesterday, I introduced myself to my fellow members at the church I recently joined. And 8 out of 10 of those folks that I introduced myself to required an explanation about my inability to see.

"You're blind? Oh, I'm sorry."

It's almost like people have a script that guides them on what to say to a blind person when they really don't know what to say.

But I have to give it to them... At least, they're compassionate... Hey, you can't fault people for trying to be sympathetic and concerned.

As I was leaving the women's fellowship after 10:00 service, a sweet lady, who I actually think is going to be my friend, asked me, "Are you alright? You don't feel good?"

I figured the only reason why she could be asking me if I was alright is because she saw me holding on to my mother's arm. I guessed that she probably thought that I was sick or something. Because I thought that was the reasoning behind her inquiry, I responded with, "I'm okay. I can't see."

Of course, the famous "I'm sorry." came next. But she followed the one-liner up with, "Well, the reason why I asked if you were alright is because you look tired. I can see it on your face."

And the truth is that I was tired. I was feeling drained emotionally and physically. And the cool thing is that that woman looked past my blindness and saw me. She noticed something other than my blind state. And she thought enough of "me" to be concerned about Angie, and not Blind Angie. How nice…

It makes me feel good when people see me and not just blind me. Yes, I’m blind. But my blindness is only a part of who I am. I’m more than that.

As my description of my blog says, I’m a beautiful, brilliant, African American woman, who happens to be blind. And no doubt about it-Blindness is pretty dog on bad. But I’m not sure if people should be saying, “I’m Sorry.” They didn’t do it. So, no need for an apology from them.

Random Reflections about very Specific Things

2009-01-26T00:34:00.004-06:00

These are the random reflections that are flowing through my mind at this very moment.

1. Although I value "family", heritage, and legacy, I, in general, get sick of my family. I don't wish they would go away. I wish they would change the condition of their hearts. Changing their address is not a long term solution to the problems that plague them. It's the heart that needs a change.

I try my best to offer my support through prayer, advice, and even money. But to no avail, I don't see any lasting improvements. I just see people getting older, but not becoming more mature. That troubles me.

At this point, I don't know how to help them. I've done all that I can do. I've helped them so much that I've become more tired, anxious, cynical, and resentful than I was before I started dealing with them.

They have not improved. And I've gotten worse. That's a problem!

I will return to what I should have never left a few years ago. I will start praying and fasting again. But this time, I will not only pray for their deliverance, I will pray for mine.

I need a touch from God. I need to be healed.

2. My pastor preached about a broken spirit today. It was quite possibly one of the best sermons I've heard in my life.

I discovered that as much as I would like to hide it, I have a wounded spirit. It may not be broken. But it is definitely aching. And it's time for me to get better, to improve the condition of my heart, to get healed.

3. I'm tired of battling fat. My struggles with weight are really starting to get on my nerves. It seems that I'm like a fat magnet. If it's unassigned fat in the atmosphere, then my body grabs it. Well, at least, that's what it seems like. LOL

Today, I was reminded of how much weight I've picked up in the last year. As I hugged each woman at church, I noticed how thin or not so thin they were. I was perplexed by how many women were considerably smaller than me. I felt like a pig. A well dressed pig. But still a pig.

Tomorrow, I will begin the journey to disassociate myself with this fat. No longer will homeless fat find shelter in my body. It's gon' have to find a home elsewhere. And I mean it!

4. No more Cokes! Can I say that louder? NO MORE COKES!!!
Coca-Cola, get thee behind me! (Maybe if I rebuke that spirit of caffeine, it'll go. You think?)

All kidding aside, I have to shake the Coca-Colas. So, starting now, I declare it. And because it's here in writing, on my blog for all of my folks to see, I have to hold to it.

I know that not drinking any soda will help me lose 10 pounds right off the top. At least, I can look forward to those 10 pounds being gone, even if it's water weight.

5. I wish my daddy and mama could live forever with good health. I hate that death is inevitable for us all. I hate that death will one day separate me from them. I hate that I will likely be faced with the challenge of burying one or both of my parents. That's an awful prospect. I don't want to think about it any more tonight.

6. I'm glad that Chad, my fav cuz, is returning back to Houston in tomorrow. I miss him so much. I'm also glad that Miko is taking her butt home. I miss her tail too.

While I'm wishing folks could live forever, I might as well wish they (my close, close friends) can live forever too.

7. I wish I didn't have to go to work tomorrow. Oh well...

8. For the first time today, I felt like I'm absolutely supposed to be at my new church. That was an awesome feeling. I finally have peace about my decision to join. The heart doesn’t lie. And my heart led me there.

I felt connected. I felt like I was with family. I felt like I love them.

And I feel like my feelings are true.

9. I'm glad to be in the process of building new relationships. That's exciting. It gives me something to look forward to. And I have a feeling that these new relationships will introduce me to unbelievable possibilities.

10. Did I say I don't want to go to work tomorrow?

11. I'm drawn to a couple of folks, and I don't know why. I don't like not being clear on the "why" these individuals are in my life. I'll just leave it there.

12. I wish I didn't have to go to work tomorrow.

13. This blog entry started off kind of intense. But as I continued to write, I started feeling better. I thank God for the therapy that I feel when I communicate, either via writing or conversing.

14. I hate violence of any kind. But I sho' hate family violence. That seems like a paradox to me. *Family - Violence* Those two words shouldn't even be able to go together. Family love, family support, family health, family prayer, family communication, family dinner, even family conflict seems alright. But family violence? Come on now... Those words should be enemies.

15. I still don't want to go to work tomorrow. But I will. I'm thankful for my job. So, I got to prove how thankful I am by holding up the light, when I'm feeling a little dark.

16. I wonder what my folks will think about this blog when they finally read through it. I put money on it that the day they will read through it is after I'm in the ground. Sadly, some people don't pay attention to what they had until it's gone.

I'm sure they will be shocked that I've written so much over the last few years. I'm sure they will be mad about me occasionally writing about them, which I very seldom do. I'm sure they will be touched that the kids meant so much to me. And I'm also sure that they will learn some things about me that they really could've have learned if they paid close enough attention.

17. I'm sleepy. I'm calling it a wrap on this entry. These random thoughts are making me more tired than I was before I started writing.

Peace and light,
Ms. Braden

Feeling Alone and Being Alone is not the Same

2009-01-24T03:21:00.004-06:00

Most children are afraid of the dark. But I think my fear of darkness was more intense than the average child. So, when I started losing my eyesight at the age of ten, my fear level increased dramatically. I found myself being surrounded by perpetual darkness. I was afraid every moment of the day, simply because of the deep shadow that loomed around me that seemed to never disappear.

Quite naturally, as I matured into a young woman, my fear of physical darkness faded and I learned to not tremble and faint over the darkness that followed me daily. I am not going to pretend like darkness doesn’t heighten my need to be more alert and careful, but I am glad that I am not imprisoned by the fear of darkness like I was for so many years.

Looking back on my childhood fears, I now realize why most people are afraid of the dark. The uncertainty of what lurks in the dark seems to put people on edge. It’s not really the darkness that is frightening. The unknown possibilities that hide in the darkness are what we are afraid of. As we become adults, we may leave our fear of a dark room behind. But our fear of unknown possibilities and uncertainty typically follows one into their adult life.

The night of August 2, 2002, I came face to face with one of the most challenging and daring events of my life, so far, that is. That unforgettable night, I found myself in a very dark and frightening situation.
When I arose that unforgettable Friday morning, I presumed that particular Friday was going to be like the many Fridays that had come and gone. I would get up and go to my job with more peace than I had Monday through Thursday. Simply because Friday was the day that connected me to my two days off from work. But I was in for a rude awakening. That Friday would usher in a heap of changes and challenges that seemed to be insurmountable.

After finally counting down the hours that led to the end of my work week”, I celebrated by meeting a childhood friend for dinner. Since my friend and I seldom have a chance to spend time with each other, I relished every minute. Before I knew it, hours had tiptoed by.

Midnight was approaching. I knew I should be headed home. I called my mother to let her know that my friend was about to bring me home. However, my mother, being the protective, selfless woman she is, preferred to meet us halfway, so that my friend did not have to drive the entire way back to her apartment alone. My mother immediately left our home and headed out to meet my friend and me.

Upon arriving at the meeting spot that we all agreed would be the most convenient and safest to connect, my friend informed me that my mother was already there waiting for me. I greeted her and jumped in the car, ready to get home to my bed.
After being in the car for only five minutes, I detected that something was not right. Our car began to swerve across the busy lanes of the expressway. I initially thought my mother had fallen asleep. I called her name and nudged her. But we swerved again. She was not responding to me. The car violently swerved again and again. I held on to the door of the car with my right hand, bracing myself for a possible crash, while continuing to scream her name. Strangely, she still would not respond to the shouting of her name. Miraculously, the Lord allowed my mother to pull the car off to the side of the lanes. But still, she was not responding to my persistent request to tell me what was wrong.

I grabbed my cell phone and called 911. I told them that I believed that my mother was having a stroke or a heart attack. Sadly, because I could not tell them exactly where we were, they could not dispatch emergency officials to help us. My heart sank and fear wrapped its dirty claws around my neck.

The 911 operator asked me to hold the phone while she and emergency officials tried to locate us. With my cell phone tucked between my shoulder and ear, I jumped out of the car and feverishly waved my hands, but no one would stop. Then I jumped back into the car and tried to encourage my mother to hold on and to cling to life. Then suddenly, my cell phone battery went completely dead. I panicked. My only drop of hope had evaporated when the one person that was trying to help me was suddenly disconnected from me.

I almost fell into a heap of despair, but I knew I had to get help for my mother. I lunged out the car and began waving my hands again, but this time I added screams and tears. However, the roar of the rushing traffic was the only thing I could hear. There were no sounds of sirens coming near. Nor was there the sound of a car pulling over. At this point, I did not know if my darling mother, who I love so dearly was alive or dead. My phone would not work, and I couldn’t run for help. I felt so alone. The fear of my mother dying right there on the side of the freeway assaulted my mind. Likewise, the fear of being left on the side of the freeway with the never stopping traffic all night, without anyone to rescue me, swelled in my heart. My very being was being crushed underneath the increasing weight of fear.

Then suddenly, I was reminded of the many scriptures that I have learned and believed in most of my life. I remembered that God promised in His word that He would never leave or forsake me. I remembered that the name of the Lord is a strong tower and the righteous run in and they are safe. I remembered that God would respond to the cries of His children. I begin to scream the name of Jesus as loud as I could. Tears poured from my face like a rushing river. I screamed and screamed, with the assurance that God would respond to the cries of His child.

After only a few minutes of calling on God, someone pulled over and called 911 and gave them a location. Upon arriving at the hospital, I found out that my mother had suffered a massive stroke. But praise God, she is still alive and God is healing her every day.

Looking back on that seemingly dark night, I now realize that God was indeed present when I felt so fearful and alone. For example, God could have allowed my mother to suffer the stroke before she picked me up. If that happened we probably would have not known for hours where she was. Secondly, when my mother started having the stroke while driving, we could have been involved in a terrible accident, severely injuring or killing both me and my mother and maybe someone else. I now realize that God’s hand was still controlling the series of events that night. Although we were in a chaotic situation, God still wrapped His arms around us and protected us from danger.

**God, you've been so kind and gracious. And for that, I celebrate your presence. Thank you for protecting me, time and time again.**

GOD BLESS DR. KING! The Legacy Continues

2009-01-19T14:53:00.008-06:00

My MLK Holiday Reflections

1. I'm so excited that my nieces and nephew know about Dr. King. I must admit that I didn't teach them. They learned about Dr. King from school and from watching their favorite network, Noggin.

Joseph came home from school last week, excited to tell me about a hero he learned about. And to my surprise, the hero was Dr. Martin Luther King.
He told me how Dr. King loved everybody, and how he wanted to help everybody. He told me that his teacher let them hear Dr. King's speech. And the sweetest thing about this is that Joseph is actually excited about Dr. King. Everytime they show Dr. King's picture on television, Joseph exclaims with excitement. That's so beautiful to me.

Yesterday, I took the kids to Chuck E. Cheese. While sitting at the table, I asked Gabby if she knew about Martin Luther King. She basically told me the same thing Joseph told me earlier in the week. I was so proud. But what put the icing on the cake is when my Jazzy hopped into the conversation and told me that she also knows about Dr. King. (And she actually said, "Dr. King." She said that she learned about Dr. King from Lil' Bill on Noggin. (Thank you, Bill Cosby! You do a great service to our children through that show.)

How wonderful it is that Joseph, who is 7, and the girls, who are both 5, know about Dr. King. While they may not understand the historical significance of Dr. King's life and his legacy, they are aware that there once lived a great man that sacrificed for Americans to live free and empowered lives.

2. I am so glad that President Obama is being sworn into office on MLK weekend. How sweet is that?! I wonder what Dr. King would think about this achievement.
Would he be bitter, like some of his peers from the civil rights movement have demonstrated?
Would he understand that his sacrifice positioned us for this day?
Would he be proud of President Obama, First Lady Michelle, and those beautiful girls?
Would he have endorsed Senator Clinton over President-Elect Obama?
Would he be excited about visiting an American president that looks like him?
Would he be more critical, more tough, more demanding of President-Elect Obama because he has black skin, and because of the many sacrifices that were made for a president with black skin to be in the White House?

Starting tonight, I will be glued to my television. I will be watching history unfold. And the greatest thing is that I'm apart of it!

Congratulations America!
This is not just an accomplishment for President Obama and his family... This is not just an accomlishment for Black Americans... This is not just an accomplishment for the Democrats... This is an accomplishment for us all.

3. I'm so glad that John McCain is not being sworn in the day after MLK Day. How ridiculous it would've been for a man that opposed the MLK Holiday to be sworn in as an American president, the day after the MLK Holiday.
(This is off topic, but I'm sho' glad that I haven't heard Palin's voice lately.)

4. I believe that if Dr. King was living today that he would be a champion in the disability community. I believe that he would challenge social norms, fight for work place accommodations, demand fair and equal housing, and insist that the government recognizes that people with disabilities are indeed "people".

In fact, it is quite possible that Dr. King would've been disabled himself at this point. Often times, people will become disabled as they age, due to illness and/or injury. This possibility causes me to believe even more that Dr. King would've been in the ring, fighting for those of us, who are Disabled Americans.

I know that President Obama's inaugural committee have gone all out to make sure thae inauguration is diverse. I wonder if they included people with disabilities. How can I find that out? Anyone knows?

5. I realize that if it had not been for freedom fighters, like Dr. Martin Luther King, Rosa Parks, Thurgood Marshal, Charles Hamilton Houston, Medgar Evers, Shirley Chisholm, Frederick Douglass, Nat Turner, David Walker, Harriet Tubman, Fannie Lou Hamer, A. Phillip Randolph, Malcolm X, W.E.B. Dubois, Homer Plessy, Dred Scott, and countless other unnamed heroes, Joseph, Gabby, and Jasmine would not be able to experience the freedom that is available for them today.

Happy MLK Day!

Spend time reflecting on what this day means to you.

This is not just another 3-day weekend.

This day was set aside to honor one of the greatest Americans to ever live.

Peace and love,

Angela Braden

24

2009-01-16T20:41:00.005-06:00

Last month, I joined Facebook, which as been a fun and entertaining journey. Shortly after joining, I received an invitation to join the Levites, one of the many groups on the FB platform. Because I'm kind of sort of getting burned out with all of the blogs that I've been visiting for the last few years, I'm now looking for new blogs to throw myself into. And even though the Levites is a Facebook group and not a "blog", the look and feel of the discussion board reminds me of blogging. In fact, I would go ahead and say that it is a weblog. And it is one that I truly enjoy, at least, at this point.

The most recent discussion prompt that was posted on the board by the group's administrator, Kevin Bond, really grabbed my attention.

What would you do if you were informed that you only had 24-hours to live?

I sat at my computer and thought about the question for a few minutes. I don't know why the question grabbed me this time. I've thought about this so many times before.

What would I do if I had 24 hours to live? What would I do if I had 6 months to live? What would I do if I knew I had an hour to live? What thoughts would run through my mind if I knew I was going to die in a matter of minutes?

Yes, all of that has rushed through my mind many, many times.

The truth is that I've been afraid to die for quite some time. I guess it's the uncertainty about how death "feels", and what "really" happens to you after you die, that makes me feel a little uneasy. If I could just have a conversation with someone that has been there done that, I think I would feel better about dying.

(Ghost Alert: Don't even try it. Please do not try to do me a favor by trying to communicate with me about death. No knocking on walls, tapping on windows, and moving dishes. Okay? I don't want to talk to a dead person about death. I want to hear it from the living.)

Another reason why I think that death kind of disturbs me is because it can be so untimely. Most people don't even get a warning. No e-mail from heaven, no certified letter from the board of angels, no 24-hour appointment reminder from the welcoming committee. You're just minding your business, and all of the sudden, without a warning, and without your input, you just die. Something about that really bothers me. It seems so unfair to not have any say, no control, and no alert. Oh well...

So, when the question about the 24-hour death notice popped up in my in-box, it grabbed my attention. So, I thought about it and began to type my answer. Here's what I posted on the Levites discussion board. (I've added two more things.)

If I knew I only had 24 hours to live, I would:

1. Forgive and forget.

2. Ask to be forgiven by God and by man. (family and friends)

3. Hold the loves of my life in my arms so tight, assuring them that my love for them out lives my physical existence here on Earth. (Tears are forming in my eyes. I'm absolutely not a person to cry. That's how much I love my nieces and nephew.) Then I would tell Joseph, Gabby, and Joseph that they can be anything they wanted to be. And to never believe the destructive assessments that others make about them. I would remind them that they are special to God and living for Him is the only way to "live".

4. I would thank my mother and father for the selfless investments they made in my life. I would apologize to them for not being able to do more for them in their elder years. Then, I would hug, hug, and hug them until I stop crying. I would reassure them that I'm okay with dying, even if I'm not. I never want them to worry excessively about me, even unto death.

5. I would sit in front of my computer and write letters to my family and friends, letting them know everything that I hadn't told them yet. I would reaffirm how important each of them are in my life. I would demand that they fulfill their purpose for living. And then I will thank them for the good times and the bad. I would somehow reassure them that all the experiences we had, even the ones that were awful, helped mold, develop, and mature me.

6. I would update my blog for the last time. I would pull out my most poignant posts and place them in a specific spot on the blog. Then I would bid my final farewells to my blogging family, thanking them for giving me their time and attention.

7. I would provide my folks with the passwords to all of my e-mail, social networking sites, voice mails, and financial accounts.

8. I would gather up insurance papers and give them to my parents. I would transfer all of my money to my parent's banking accounts. I would call my lawyers and have them draft a will for me. (I don't have much. But I would want it distributed according to my wishes.)

9. I would place all of my writings, essays, unfinished books, poetry, and speeches, into a electronic and hard folder. I would preselect which one of my writings I would want to be included in my funeral program. Then I would leave special instructions to my folks on how to print, bind, and distribute it to family and friends.

10. I would call my friends and share laughs, cries, and prayers with them. I would reassure them that I am dying in peace. I would thank them for being the best friends that a girl could've had. I would tell them to live their dreams, no matter the cost.

11. I would call my pastor and ask him to visit me. We would talk about my life, my God, and my resting place. I would tell him what I would want him to tell the people. I would thank him for providing me with spiritual enrichment and covering me with prayer. Then, I would ask him to share a word of encouragement with me, read a passage of scripture, and pray one last prayer with me.

12. After all of that is said and done, I would take a bath, take something to help me relax (Wine or medication... Perhaps both... LOL), get in the bed, hold my Bible, put on the sweetest worship music, tell the Lord one final thank you, and go to sleep with my mama holding my hand and my daddy watching me from the chair next to my bed. (I know that Mama and Daddy would stay there with me until the end.)

B.Angie.B

Off Schedule, But on Course

2009-01-15T17:02:00.005-06:00

Because of the Weblog Awards, I got all thrown off track. By now, I would have posted a New Year’s post, remarking about my accomplishments and lessons learned in 2008, in addition to my intentions for the new year. I'm now behind schedule. But interestingly enough, I'm on course.

I decided that this would be the year that I stop talking about what I would like to do with my life. I planned to put action behind my intentions and make something, anything happen. I'm fed up with dreaming. Yeah, dreaming is good. But dreams are what they are, just a dream. It is not a physical manifestation of what is supposed to be accomplished in your life. It is a figment of your safely constructed, carefully controlled imagination.

In my dreams, I can start a business, but never fail. I can be in love, and never have to worry about the man of my dreams falling out of love with me. I can be 125 pounds, and never have to worry about trying to find $6K to have a tummy tuck. I can be a best selling author, without ever having to face rejection from a publishing house. I can be a PH.D, without ever having to stand before a committee to defend my dissertation. I can be rich, without ever having to work a day in my life. I could’ve even been the winner of the 2008 Weblog Awards, without having to worry about a ridiculously embarrassing loss. *wink* Hell, I can be anything in my imagination.

But in real life, I have to face my fears, face the possibility of failure, face the reality of hard work and disappointment, face the truth about my laziness and procrastination, face the embarrassing fact that I sometimes overeat, and face the many possibilities that a person may encounter when you begin an unfamiliar path towards living your dreams. .

And this year, I will…I must face all of the above. This year, I will leap out of my dreams and make my dreams apart of my reality. I will invest my money, my time, emotions, my energy, my spirituality, my faith, my essence into bringing forth what God intends for my life. I will demand that the atmosphere supports this calling by positioning myself around all those that can be of service to me and my development into the woman that I’ve been designed to be. I will disrobe myself from the cloak of fear, and rise with courage, apprehending all that I know is mine. I will soar above all that is beneath me, rather than drowning in the mediocrity that I have let decorate my life for so many years.

This year is the beginning of the rest of my life.

This year is the beginning of achievements that will blow my mind.

So, being selected as a finalist for the Weblog Awards didn’t get me off track. It put me on track. It exposed me to thousands. It connected me to people that I know will contribute to my long term success. It broadened my paradigm. It expanded my imagination, helping me to believe that I will…I have to be more than I am today.

**I don’t aspire to be more for personal glory. I aspire to be more to fulfill the call that has been placed on my life by my God. I aspire to live a life laced with purpose, shaped with destiny, and colored with God’s approval. And this year will be the beginning of that journey.**

Happy New Year to all of my readers! May God provide you with more than enough happiness, peace, satisfaction, love, success, and good health.

Blessings,
Angie Braden
Winner
(Because God says so!)

"You've never seen a porn?"

2009-01-13T19:53:00.004-06:00

Often times, I'm the first blind person people get a chance to have a conversation with. And for some reason, most of the folks that encounter me honestly believe that I'm not "like them." I can understand basic ignorance. But I cannot understand sheer stupidity.

Over the years, people have asked me some pretty ridiculous questions. But again, I chalk it up to ignorance. If you don't know, you just don't know. So, when people ask me the questions, I take a deep breath and just answer, even if I do think it's silly.

Here's one example of some of the silly questions people ask me. And I'll quickly answer the question, just in case you're part of the group that always wished you had the opportunity to ask a blind person this

“Who bathes you?”
I bathe myself. I clean out the tub with whatever cleaning product that I purchased. Then I run my water. Most of the times, I sit in the tub when the water is running. So, the possibility of the tub overflowing while I'm in it is not there. But if I'm not in the tub, I stick my hand in the tub to make sure that the water is not getting too high.
After that, I put my behind in the water, lather up my towel, and use my sense of touch, as well as this good brain of mine, to make sure that this body of mine is scrubbed from head to toe. So far, no complaints...

Somebody even asked me this:
“Do you have sexual desires?”
Um, yes… My eyes don’t work. But every other part of me is in good working order. Last time I checked, eyeballs had nothing to do with sex. Well, for women anyway… LOL!

Honestly, I thought I've heard all the questions that someone may have about a blind person, until recently. A few weeks ago, I met a man that asked me a question that floored me.

We were having a friendly conversation about my blindness and how it impacts me. He asked me all the questions in the book.

"Who dresses you?"
"Who helps you shop for your clothes?"
"Can you cook?"
"How did you go to college?"
"How do you read books?"
"How do you use the computer?"

And trust me, that was only a few of his questions. But I answered them, like I always do.

As the questions kept coming, they became more and more interesting.

"So, are blind people good with their hands?"
"Is your sense of touch more potent than others?"
"Are blind people sensual?"
"Do you date?"

And then, out of no where, he had a light bulb moment. He lowered the boom and threw me completely off withthe the next question that popped into his head.

"Oh my God! You've never seen a porn before, have you?!"

"Nope, can't say that I've seen a porn before. Seen a lot of bare breast on HBO and TMC when I was a kid. But no porns..."

Out of all the things to be concerned about, that's what he came up with?

"So, if your man wanted you to watch a porn with him, you wouldn't be able to? That's awful!"

Well, I never thought about it. So far, I haven't had the opportunity to respond to such an invitation. But I hardly think that not having the chance to watch a porn would rank high on my list of "blind disappointments."

I can't recall the time that I thought to myself, "Man, I wish I could watch some hot, butt naked sex on my television."

While I figure that it may indeed be entertaining on many levels, I really can't say that I'm being punished by not being able to watch one.

Maybe that's because I haven't seen one. LOL!

The Five Senses Just wondering...

2009-01-12T04:20:00.008-06:00

I was just sitting here at my desk, thinking about how being blind really gets on my nerves so much. I think if I didn't live in a sighted world it wouldn't bother me as much. It's like being a bird that has no use of its wings to take flight. It's like being a fish that has no use of its fins to swim.

Basically, it sucks.

One of the first things I remember learning about as a kid is that we, humans, have five senses.
* The Sense of Touch
* The Sense of Sight
* The Sense of Sound
* The Sense of Smell
* The Sense of Taste

I never in a million years would've ever thought that I would lose one of those valuable senses. It is through those five senses that we perceive the world around us. And there is so much that I am missing out on, just because I cannot perceive this beautiful world we live in with the sense of sight.

As I was thinking about the "five senses", and how ridiculous it is that I'm left with only four of them, an interesting thought popped in my head. I know for a fact that people can lose three of the five senses. A person can lose their sense of sight and be blind. A person can lose their sense of sound and be def. A person can even lose their sense of touch from some type of nerve damage, and at that point, not be able to feel. But strangely enough, I've never heard about anyone that has lost the sense of smell or taste.

Hmm...

Although, I'm sure it's possible. I'm certain that some type of uncommon brain damage, either through a stroke or a brain injury, can result in someone not being able to taste or smell. But whatever the case, it's highly uncommon. So uncommon that you never really hear about a person not being able to taste or smell.

Or maybe it's more common that I think. Perhaps the reason why you don't hear about people not being able to taste or smell is because those senses more or less enhance our experience here on Earth. But not having those senses would not result in a catastrophic failure of everyday living. If we couldn't taste or smell, we wouldn't require major accommodations and modifications to participate in society.

Now, it's quite possible that I'm minimizing two of my four remaining senses. Or perhaps I'm not being thankful to still have four. And quite possibly, this train of thought that I’m on is just a weird line of thinking. Or maybe I'm sleep deprived.

Well, here's an assignment for me today. For the next 24-hours, I'm going to pay close, close attention to the things I taste and smell. I'm also going to analyze if the experience of smelling and tasting truly impacts my perception of the world and how I engage in it.

That can be your assignment too. Let me know how it goes.

Peace!

Technology Frustrations

2009-01-09T05:52:00.003-06:00

As many of you that read this blog know, I use assistive technology to access my computer. To be more specific, I use a screen reading program, designed by Freedom Scientific, called JAWS for Windows.

This program has saved my life. It's given me independence, allowed me to participate in society, and offered me the opportunity to excel along side and/or beyond my sighted peers. Long story short, if you want to punish me, take away my JAWS. I would certainly be tormented during the time it's gone.

JAWS has allowed me to maintain this blog for the last three years. Likewise, I've been able to comment on my peers blogs in the same manner as any computer user. However, technology is shifting and becoming more advanced by the hour. And as these new advancements are pushed out on the market, the possibility of me not being able to access certain technology creeps up more and more.

Let me give you a few examples...

Let's start with these visual images that many sites want you to type into the text-box in order to leave a comment on a blog or to sign up for a certain service.
I hate these!!! There just awful!

First of all, have you clicked on the so called audio alternative lately? It sounds a mess! The numbers that I'm supposed to be listening for are being spoken over a bed of weird, mumbling, jibberish, which is almost as loud as the numbers you are supposed to be listening for. So, half the time, I can never get the numbers right. So, I can't leave comments on folks' blogs, nor can I sign up for certain programs on the web.

I challenge all of my sighted readers to click on the audio alternative to the visual captions. Listen, and let me know what you think.

And for those of you that maintain blogs that have those visual captions on the comment section... This is why I don't comment much anymore. I hate taking so much time, going through so many steps to leave a message. I want to show these blogs love, but I don't want to go through drama to do it.

And yes I understand why people have them posted on the blogs. They’re there to block out computer automated SPAM. But it also blocks me out.

Blogger is guilty of this using these ridiculous sounding audio captions. Word Press is better. In fact, I don’t know a Word Press blog that has it on there. And don’t get me talking about these blog platforms that don’t have an audio alternative at all. Those blogs are completely inaccessible to a blind computer user that wants to leave a comment.

Next example...

The voting for the Weblog Awards are going on. And the fact that I'm losing in an embarrassing manner will be addressed in another post... LOL

Well, one of the frustrating things about the Weblog Awards is that the awards site uses Flash to allow people to vote. And guess what, my screen reading program can't recognize it at all. So, I can't even vote for my own blog, let alone anyone else's. I have to get sighted assistance to vote. And that's unacceptable!

After the awards are over, I'm going to send the awards administrator a note to encourage them to create a voting mechanism that is accessible to all computer users. Because at this point, it's not fair.

Now, don't get it twisted... I'm not blaming my embarrassing vote stats on the inaccessibility. I seriously doubt if there is a band of blind people trying to vote for my blog. LOL But as long as there's one person, and that one person could be me, I'm not cool with being locked out. It's out of line.

I'll just stop here. That's my rant for the morning. I don't feel like addressing the cell phone issues right now. Perhaps in another post, I'll let Sprint have it.

Peace out,

AB

What should my response be?

2009-01-07T20:36:00.003-06:00

One of my closest friends commented on the picture that's posted here on my blog. He told me that he felt that it was time for a new pic. I asked him why did he think so. He told me that he didn't like my lipstick and my hair. He said that I definitely have a better look.

Well, I didn't quite know what to say. It's not like I can disagree or agree with him. I have nothing to compare it to. I haven't seen myself in a mirror or on a picture since I was a teenager. And that image was blurry then...

Hell, the truth is that I don't know if I look awful in the picture. I don't know if I look awful in real life, for that matter.

The truth is that I'm never comfortable with pictures. There is no picture that is good enough for me. And I think it has everything to do with me not being able to approve the picture myself.

While my friend is a tough critic, I know that I would be tougher than him. I know that I would never put a picture out there for the world to see that doesn't capture the best of who I am. And the sad reality is that I don't know if the picture I have posted would meet my approval.

Another reason why I hate taking pictures is because I can't look directly at the camera. I often wonder if my eyes are looking "blind". And while I'm trying to get to a place that being blind is okay with me, I'm still not comfortable with "looking" blind. I want to look as "normal" as possible.

One more reason why I hate taking pictures is because of my lack of symmetry. A few years ago, my eyes started acting a bigger fool than they had already had before. Not only was I blind, my eyes decided to take a dive in the shape and color department.

Because of years of Glaucoma, surgeries, and strained eye muscles, my left eye doesn't open as wide as the right eye. And that burns me up. I hate that so much! And I have tried and tried to get it fixed. But so far, I've had no success. So, I just swoop my hair in my face to hide it.

As you can see from the pic here, I have my hair out of my face. And that's because the photographer begged me to pull my hair back so that he could capture my naked face. I don't know if that was a good idea or not. Because in real life, my hair is always in my face... Does it hide what I'm trying to hide? Not sure... But it's a security blanket now.

And the color of my eyes is a mess now. My cornea is swollen. So, my eye color in the left eye is fading to gray. Aint that a mess? One brown eye and one gray eye? I feel like Frankenstein's sister sometimes.

I don't think too many people notice it. But it still bothers me. And it's another issue that I haven't been able to correct just yet.

And no, I'm not going to start wearing any glasses. So, don't suggest the Stevie Wonder-Ray Charles shades. That ain't me.

In all seriousness, I realize that I have to get to a place that I learn to love me, even the parts of me that are broken, fractured, and imperfect. I have to love what I can't see. I have to love all of me.

**Lord, help me to one day be comfortable with who you designed me to be. For I know that I was made in your image. So, the outer me, the shell does not matter. Because it doesn't reflect your workmanship anyway.**

Angie B.

Yes We Can! Cast Your Vote in the 2008 Weblog Awards

2009-01-04T22:28:00.004-06:00

Voting for the 2008 Weblog Awards begins January 5th, and continues through January 12th. According to the voting rules, you may vote every 24-hours in each pole. So, please, please, please cast a vote each day for Nuvision for a Nuday. Did I say please?

There's alink in the side bar that leads you to the voting pole for Best Diarist of 2008. But so that you don't have to work too hard, I'll be glad to post it right here. Being nominated was great! However, winning would be fabulous. So, join me in my quest to get Nuvision for a Nuday crowned with the honor of being the home of the Best Diarist of 2008, Angela L. Braden.

While you're voting for my blog, take the time to cast a vote for some other worthy bloggers that truly deserve to win in their particular category. Allow me to endorse a few.

For Best Blog, I recommend a blog that kept me informed and connected the entire 2008 presidential election. In my opinion, the Huffington Post is hands down the greatest mainstream blog on the web.

For Best Individual Blogger, I strongly recommend a blogger that I have followed and supported for the last two years. Wayne Bennett, who blogs at the Field Negro, offers hilarious, knife cutting, insightful political commentary. He leaves no rock unturned. This brotha deserves this award and many, many more.

For Best LGBT Blog, I actually recommend two outstanding blogs. Pam's House Blend and TransGriot

For Best Small Blog, I strongly recommend a blog that is by no means small in content and value. Black Women, Blow Your Trumpet!, is a fantastic blog, filled with brilliant commentary, thought provoking concepts, and critical analysis.

For Best Religious Blog, take the time to vote for Tariq Nelson.

For Best Very Large Blog, take the time to vote for Bitch PH.D.

And finally, for Best Hidden Gem, I recommend Zuky.

Take a look at all the 48 categories that are being voted on. Visit the blogs, and be sure to cast a vote. Perhaps later this week, I'll have some more recommendations. But as for now, I leave you with the task of voting for the above.

BTW: Most of the aforementioned bloggers are AA. So, their representation in this award is truly remarkable. And them being named a winner will be even more outstanding.

Before I go, let me encourage you again to vote for my blog, NuVision for a NuDay. Let's make Nuvision a winner this year!

Yes We Can!!!!

Taking a Stroll Towards Independence

2009-01-04T06:51:00.004-06:00

If you've been following this blog, you know that I was blessed with the opportunity to join the faculty of Lone Star College District. Colleges have always been one of my favorite places to be. And the great thing about this particular college experience is that I'm the prof and not the student. I read papers; I don't have to write them. I compose test; I don't take them. So, the experience has been a great deal less stressful than it is when you're a student. And I love that!

One aspect of college that I love so much is that the environment encourages free thought and pushes the students to broaden their paradigms. My philosophy as an instructor is to design and facilitate a learning experience that will encourage the students to challenge the social norms that have been passed to them by their families and conventional society. I want my students to not become masters at memorizing large amounts of information, just so they can become intelligent robots. I want them to become thinkers, to explore new possibilities, and to demand truth. Likewise, I want them to realize that every moment prepares them for the next moment. So, by all means, they need to maximize every opportunity to grow, to elevate, to mature, to become free members of society.

When I started working at the college, I had no idea what the campus looked like, how to get around it, or when I would get a chance to learn how to get around it. I called the Division for Blind Services, here in Texas, and requested training to learn how to navigate through the campus. Well, anyone that knows anything about social services knows that it often takes an unreasonable amount of time to get the services you need. So, even though I started working for the college in July, and I called the DBS office in July, I didn't get mobility training until last week. How many months did I have to wait? Five long months... Five months of my sisters giving me sighted guide on the campus, making it look like I was a blind person that was either too scared or too incompetent to travel throughout the campus independently.

So, last week, I pulled out my folding cane and headed out to the campus with my instructor. A campus that seemed to be beyond my independent reach became increasingly familiar to me with ever step I took. My cane extended in front of me, and suddenly a place that I had only walked on with sighted help transformed into a place that I could conquer, could travel alone. Although there were a couple of times that I was unsure of myself, and a couple of times that my foot would slip off the edge of the sidewalk, I walked with pride and with full confidence in my future.

I remember a time in my life when I thought of a white cane as an object of embarrassment, a signal to the world that I was different, that I was disabled. I hated to carry it. And I sure in the hell hated to use it. I felt that extending a cane in front of me only solidified my permanent status as a blind girl. And because I wanted to be anything but a blind girl, I hated that damn cane so much.

But as I matured, and as I wanted to travel places that sighted help could not or would not take me, the cane became a tool of independence, a tool of liberation. My cane helped me graduate from University of North Texas in 1997. My cane helped me be successful at my first job, where I served a local school district as an educational consultant. My cane, which was once an object of shame, is now the tool that has helped me find independence and freedom from the restrictions placed on me by my blindness.

Don't get it twisted... Sometimes it's tough to put myself out there, to be all on display for all you sighted folks to gawk at. But I rather people take a look at a blind woman doing her thing, making the best out of life, than to be looking at a blind woman fumbling and tripping over the curbs of life. I would much rather be out and about, walking towards freedom, than to be at home, dying in a cell of dependence and restriction. I would much rather be out and about, living my life, than to be at home, waiting to die.

So, this day, this very moment, I raise my cane high in the sky and celebrate my victory over the darkness.

I am not bound by the darkness that surrounds me!

I am not a slave to my disability!

I am a free woman! Free to travel where ever I wish to go... Free to be who I want to be... Free to achieve what I wish to achieve...

**If there's something that is holding you back from finding independence and freedom, free yourself of whatever has you bound. If there is something that you need to pick up in order to help you achieve greatness, pick it up. Don't be ashamed... Don't be reluctant to do whatever it takes to become free.**

Angela L. Braden
Author of NuVision for a NuDay
Finalist for the 2008 Weblog Awards

24-7 Darkness (Revisited)

2008-12-31T04:38:00.000-06:00

One of my professors asked me what is it like to be in the dark 24-7. Up until that very moment, I hadn't really thought about it. After taking about 15 seconds to process her question and formulate some type of answer, I took a deep breath and finally replied, "Um, I don't know.”

Strangely enough, I really don't think about it in terms of 24-7 darkness. I define blindness as the inability to see. And I guess that includes light. But if I really took the time to focus on the blanket of darkness that wraps around me, I probably would lose it. The very thought of 24-7 darkness is so darn depressing.

Now that I've taken time to really think about my professor’s question, I better understand how I truly feel about this "24-7 darkness that supposedly surrounds me." The truth is that I actually ignore the darkness.

Let me explain, if I can. There's no way possible for me to ignore my blindness. It is what it is. I can't escape it, even if I wanted to. I can't ignore it, pretend that it's not there, or take a break from it for a day.

But the darkness on the other hand, I don't have to give it my attention. Instead, I can use my mind to create visual images of the things that are in my physical presence. I can use my mind to daydream about beautiful places I would like to visit, intriguing people I would like to meet, and a wonderfully fine man to take me on one of my many dream vacations. I can use my mind to remember all of the beautiful experiences that I've had in my lifetime. I can use my mind to imagine what my darlings, Jasmine, Gabby, and Joseph look like.

So, with that being said, I'm not in the dark 24-7. I use my mind to ignore the darkness, and to instead create light.

I guess I should let my professor know my new answer to her question.

What an Honor!!! (2008 Weblog Awards)

2008-12-30T10:18:00.005-06:00

I'm delighted to announce that NuVision for a NuDay was selected to be a finalist in the 2008 Weblog Awards! Yipee!!!

NuVision for a NuDay is one of 10 blogs that will get a chance to be crowned "Best Diarist of the Year". Wouldn't that be amazing if I actually win the award?

At this point, I'm sure there are a few of you that are wondering, "Who are the Weblog Awards; and why does this matter to you?"

The Weblog Awards describe themselves as being "the world's largest blog competition with over 545,000 votes cast in 2007 edition and nearly two million votes cast in all editions since 2003." This particular year, they received over 5,000 nominations for the 2008 edition of the awards. After a careful and thoughtful selection process, 500 blogs were selected to be finalists in 48 categories.

So, for NuVision to be one of the blogs honored as a finalist is rather significant and quite an achievement as a blogger. Plus, this notable mention will provide my blog with greater exposure and will hopefully boost my readership. I am excited about more people becoming aware that people with disabilities are capable of being productive, insightful, employed, socially attractive, responsible, and happy.

It has been and will continue to be my desire that NuVision for a NuDay will be one of the tools that decrease discrimination, increase respect, and shatter stereotypes. If I'm not mistaken, I think that my blog is the only blog that is a finalist in the awards that focuses on disability related issues. So, I feel a little pressure to maximize this opportunity to represent for disability bloggers all over the world. But I'm confident that my blog's presence on the list of finalist is a wonderful opportunity for me to share with thousands the experiences of a person with a disability, in particular, blindness.

I'm also honored to be one of the few bloggers of color to be selected as a finalist in this year's Weblog Awards. I'm a proud member of the Afrosphere! So, it's great to be able to rep for them as well.

To learn more about the awards, and to see a list of the finalist, click on the below link.
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I'll be sure to announce how and when you can vote for NuVision for a NuDay.

Have a satisfying and peaceful day!

Angela L. Braden
Author of NuVision for a NuDay
Finalist for the 2008 Weblog Awards

Forever?

2008-12-27T17:11:00.003-06:00

Last night, my darling, Jasmine, walked over to me, lifted herself up, and plopped her little body into my ever-available lap. She rested her head on my chest and asked me a question that probably has been lingering in her head for at least a few minutes, which is a long time when looking at the attention span of a five-year-old.

"Ann, you gon' be blind forever?"

The word "forever" rang loudly in my head. I didn't quite know what to say. "Forever is such a long time." I thought. And the idea of admitting that my blindness could be sticking around forever was a bit overwhelming at that particular moment.

I quickly thought, "What do I tell her?" If I say yes, I would basically be telling the truth. Well, at least the doctor's version of the truth... But saying yes is surrendering to the condition, and signaling to the atmosphere and perhaps God that I don't have enough faith to believe that I will see again.

The truth is that I absolutely want to see again. And I would do anything, and I mean anything to get that chance. But to be quite honest, I think that I am at a place that I honestly believe that the chances of seeing again are slim to none. But I haven't always felt this way.

When I first started losing my sight, my folks used to drag me to every healing crusade, revival, and conference that was being held in the city. My aunts would recommend certain preachers that they believed had the gift of healing to my Mama. And my mama would take me to each of them, hoping that the Lord would touch her baby and give her sight back. And I was hoping too.

So, it didn't matter to me how many prayer lines I needed to stand in, how much blessed oil needed to be splashed on my forehead, how many times I needed to turn around in a circle, and how many meals I had to fast from...I wanted to see again. And I believed that God could do it. And I really thought that believing that He could do it meant that He would do it.

But with each passing year, the Glaucoma that was ravishing my eye continued to get worse, and my sight continued to fade. By the time I was thirteen-years-old, my right eye was completely blind. And the visual acuity in the left eye was so bad that I could not walk in unfamiliar territories without sighted assistance. But I didn’t stop believing though. I continued to fast, pray, anoint my own head with oil, get prayer from the elders, call prayer lines, quote scriptures, and declare the victory over my blindness.

But to no avail, despite 14 surgeries and my unwavering faith in God, I lost all of my functional vision my senior year in high school. I only had light perception in my left eye. But no matter how dark it was, I continued to fast and pray. I refused to give up.

Two years later, the tiny bit of sight that I had left to let me know if the sun had rose in the morning had left me. And I was left in total darkness and complete despair. My faith was shattered, and I begin to wonder if believing and expecting a healing was handicapping my ability to “see” what God truly wanted for my life.

After a lot of aching and pain, I realized that I saw God as a healer and not a sustainer. I believed that He could heal me. But strangely enough, I didn’t believe that He could make life with blindness be alright.

Huge leap from then to now…

I do believe that God can heal. But I refuse to spend too much time dreaming about the day that Angie possibly gets her sight back. Instead, I spend my time trying to figure out how I can trust God to see what it is I’m supposed to be looking at.

So, back to Jasmine's profound question... After allowing memories of pain, disappointment, and sadness rush through my head, I took a deep breath and with confidence, I told Jasmine that yes, her aunt will probably be blind forever. And that it is truly okay.

Angela L. Braden

NuVision for a NuDay

Sometimes you just have to do what you got to do.

Just one of those things...

Twenty Years

I have a confession.

Like a Ton of Bricks

Sorry, ma'am. This is real life. Not a Sprint store or a Lexis dealership...

Black Sky; Memoir of a Blinding Girl

Thankful Times 7

The Confrontation (Part 3 of 3)

The Confrontation (Part 2 of 3)

The Confrontation (Part 1 of 3)

Blind as a Bat

Considering the Comfort of the Cactus **Random Thought**

Random Reflections

The Skin I'm In

If I have so much to say, why am I not saying it?

The Light

The Tiny Giant (Part 1 of 4)

Happy New Year!!!!!

A CHRISTMAS GIFT OF MUSIC TO ALL OF MY READERS

Going Blind, The Movie

Would I want to live forever? Hmm...

Happy Thanksgiving to my NuVision Family!!!

Unfixable

That's What Friends Are For

My Random Reflections for the Week

"Vision Impairment: Racial & Ethnic Differences" *I thought I would share this with my readers.*

22 Random Facts About Angie (Part 1 of 2)

What the heck is acting blind?

You should check this out!!!! A Possible Opportunity to be Published

This Truly Doesn't Happen Often

Happy 20th Birthday to the Americans with Disabilities Act!!!!!!

"You can't see anything?"

My Super Power (Revisited)

A Brother's Arm (Revisited)

Forever? (Revisited)

My Random Thoughts About Very Specific Things

NuVision for a Nuday; The Book!!!

Happy Mother's Day!!!!!!!!!

No, I do not want to feel your face!

Graveyard Treasures

I can't believe that one day I'll be an old blind lady!!!!!

Happy Birthday NuVision for a NuDay!!!!!!! (Has it really been four years?)

Tempted in the Wildnerness (Part 3 of 3)

Tempted in the Wilderness (Part 2 of 3)

Tempted in the Wilderness (Part 1 of 2)

Here's a few random reflections regarding "my" experience with blindness.

Random Reflections About Very Specific Things

The Pink Eye **The First Draft of the Beginning of my Memoire**

I'm Back!

I Changed My Mind!

Am I a Dreamer or a Doer?

NuVision for a NuDay Celebrates the Installation of a Statue of Helen Keller at the U.S. Capitol Building

Was it the blindness or the dirty panties?

My Issues with Public Restrooms

Stress has the power to strengthen you or destroy you. Which will it be? (Part 3 of 3)

Stress has the power to destroy you or strengthen you. Which will it be? (Part 2 of 3)

Stress has the power to destroy you or strengthen you. Which will it be? (Part 1 of 3)

A Fantastic Resource for Individuals that have Blindness or Low Vision Concerns!!!

Kathy Martinez: A Blind Woman That's Doing Great Things!!!

Preview of Black in america 2 (Part 3 of 3)

Preview of CNN's Black in America 2 (Part 2 of 3)

Preview of CNN's Black in America 2 (Part 1 of 3)

Random Reflections About Very Specific Things

Still a Virgin

A Visual Memory that I'll Cherish for Life: Michael Jackson!

Waiting in the Dark

Finally!

The Prayers of a Blind Aunt

"Beautiful Blind Women"

Please Introduce Yourself

"You can see shapes and colors, right?"

The Tunnel

1 out of 8 Billion

RANDOM THOUGHTS ABOUT VERY SPECIFIC THINGS

Darkness to Light (Repost)

Broken Pieces

Used for His Glory: That is truly my Prayer

Transition

Considering the Comfort of the Cactus Random Thought

"Vision Impairment: Racial & Ethnic Differences" I thought I would share this with my readers.

The Pink Eye The First Draft of the Beginning of my Memoire