What’s Behind the Eye Exam: Seeing Life More Clearly

What’s Behind the Eye Exam: Seeing Life More Clearly

Something wasn’t right—I could see, but not like before. My right eye had gone a little blurry. Not terrible, just… off. No amount of blinking, breath work, or quiet hoping was clearing it up. Maybe it was age. Maybe it was stress. Or maybe it was the universe handing me a parable wrapped inside an eye chart.

Barbi booked the eye exam—not just for me, but for all three of us. Me, her, and Bella.

When we pulled up, the waiting room was packed. Not a single seat open. So I walked back out and headed next door, wandering through aisles of shoes and gadgets. I tried on a few pairs of size 13s and found myself staring at all kinds of things I didn’t need but almost convinced myself I did—power banks, bone conduction headphones, random Reebok gear. I hovered over a $16 magnetic charger like it was a treasure. But I didn’t buy anything. Because I knew none of it would actually fill me.

I headed back to the eye clinic to check again, and Bella was already inside with her chin pressed against a machine while a puff of air shot into her eye. Barbi stood nearby. It was Bella’s first eye exam, so I pulled out my phone and snapped a picture, wanting to capture that moment.

Eventually, I was called back.

The optometrist had kind eyes and a calm presence, the kind that makes you feel like you’re in good hands. As he walked in, he said, “Go ahead and put your hat and phone right here,” pointing to the tray beside the machine.

But I thought he said, “Put your head here.”

And not only did I think that’s what he said—I thought he was trying to be funny.

So, leaning into the moment, I bent over and rested my head on the tray. He looked at me, dead serious, and said, “No… I said your hat. Your phone and glasses too.”

I straightened up and tried to act like I hadn’t just embarrassed myself, but I could feel it—my ears, just like my eyes, might need some checking too. A new prescription for both sight and sound, apparently.

Then the real test began.

“Better one or two?” he asked, flipping lenses with that tiny click.

“One,” I said.

“Now two?”

“Hmm… one again.”

We went back and forth, again and again, until truth finally came into focus: my right eye had shifted. My vision had changed. The world had started tilting, and I hadn’t noticed.

And it made me think—where else in my life have I been looking through a distorted lens? Where have I been calling half the picture “clear” just because I’d gotten used to it?

Without my glasses, I couldn’t drive. Couldn’t read a text. Couldn’t even make out the signs on the wall across from me. But in that blurry haze, something sharp came into view.

Clarity isn’t about how much you see. It’s about what you’re looking at—and why.

Just when I was feeling all enlightened and present, I walked right into the doorframe of the exam room. Glasses on. Fully corrected. Still missed the edge. I played it cool, but yeah—Barbi and Bella would’ve had a field day if they saw that one.

I stepped out into the hallway and saw them just finishing up. “How’d it go?” I asked.

Bella lit up. “2020! Perfect!”

Barbi laughed and said, “The doctor told her, ‘What are you doing—showing off?’”

I shook my head. Bella’s vision was perfect. Barbi’s hadn’t changed. I was the only one who needed an update. The only one whose lens had shifted.

And maybe that’s the point.

Vision isn’t just about your eyes. It’s about alignment. It’s about direction. It’s about whether you’re walking a path chosen from truth or fear—and whether you can still hear that quiet voice inside guiding you forward.

So if life’s been feeling a little blurry—mentally, emotionally, spiritually—it might be time for your own eye exam. Not just with the doctor, but with your soul.

Because seeing the road ahead only matters

if you’re walking it with purpose.