For me it's complicated, so this is a long post. tl,dr: I'd probably want some vision if getting it was physically safe and if I had support from friends/family, because I've always been curious about what having vision is like.
A bit of history:
During my adolescence I went through a "why me" attitude. Ever since I was a kid, I hated the fact that I was blind. I felt as though 95 percent of people who knew me treated me as a different person. Someone who needed help, someone who wasn't quite with it. And I believed they were justified. In many areas I am in fact behind. Not far enough to keep me out of mainstream, but behind enough that I needed to be held back a lot in certain things and receive roughly 10 hours of tutoring a week in certain situations. I always resented that. Every time something came up which was addressed to my special needs, it just re-enforced that resentment, because I felt so alone. I had tons of support, but not much companionship, and I blamed that on the fact I was blind.
The common response to such resentment I often hear is, "You can't control the problem but you can control how you react to the problem." Maybe that lifts some people up, but for me at least, it takes a lot to get me to really fly with that. Thinking about it wrong made me feel like I was even more broken. As a rough analogy, it felt like this: To replace one part of an appliance, I'd have to take it apart and disassemble 20 fully functional parts just to get at that one broken part. Of course, the only way that appliance is gonna get fixed is if you grind it out and do the work, no matter how annoying it gets. similarly, to stop resenting something, you need to change your attitude toward something, and it can be a long, annoying, confusing process sometimes, but it's the only way your attitude will change. I know this now, but my kid self couldn't possibly grasp that, and even now I have trouble with it because my mind has this tendency of letting negative things snowball.
Fortunately, I'm a lot more at ease today than I used to be, because I have more friends. Some blind, some sighted. I'm not a social butterfly by any means, but I have a circle of roughly 20 friends of various types, who all mean a lot to me, in addition to my family, so they certainly help put me in a better headspace. I have enough diversity in my social circle that I finally feel okay about being blind. Most of them talk to me as casually as they do everyone else, and even if a blindness-related challenge comes up, they don't get nervous or talk stiffly or awkwardly about it, so that boosts my confidence.
That said, I'd still be all for getting some vision. I've always been a very curious person. Always curious about new experiences, new medications, new ideas etc. I love to learn about everything new to me, and especially to talk to people who are knowledgeable in it, so the idea of getting my vision back is definitely something I have thought about. Naturally, during the days when I hated my blindness, I would've signed up to get my vision restored in a heartbeat. But during those days, I was innocent, naive and quite optimistic. I was only a kid, so I had little perspective on the potential negatives involved with such a thing. I just wanted vision, damn it. I wanted to see people, I wanted to play video games, I wanted to feel like I fit in without being singled out and treated like I was different. I would've traded all my favorite toys for it.
Nowadays, I still would want vision, perhaps even go through an experimental trial, but with a couple conditions. First I wouldn't do it if there was a moderate to high risk of drastic physical side effects like death, or brain/nerve damage. Also, I wouldn't go through with it if I couldn't get support from some of my family and friends. Aside from that though, I can't think of any other reasons why I wouldn't do it at the moment.
I'm perhaps not as worried as I should be about the shock factor, even though I've heard that you never learn to use newly acquired vision naturally or efficiently. The adult brain can't make sense of it the way someone who has always had vision can. I know this would probably overwhelm, confuse, frustrate, and discourage me to no end. But I am so insanely curious to know what vision is like. I have light perception, and that alone is so profound to me that I can't begin to describe what it's like to someone who doesn't have it. And that's just light perception! I can't even imagine what it would be like to see shapes, colors and other details. Maybe that's my downfall. I'm so curious about the things I don't have, that I let the excitement get the better of me when I am presented with the prospect that I might one day get it.
70 percent of people who I've discussed this with are against it, due to the immense shock it would likely involve. They wonder why I would put myself through unnecessary hassle and risk-taking that isn't worth it.
I deeply respect their opinions, but I also have a history of letting this kind of criticism get to me to the point where I shut down and ask other people to make decisions for me. I know this is a decision I would have to make myself. So, I'm trying hard to build up my self-confidence so I can have a proper discussion that doesn't consist of me giving way at the first sign of a disagreement. At the same time I would have to approach the sight restoration decision with the utmost responsibility, much more than I can ever remember putting into anything else. My first instinct is to dive right in with a cheer, but I know that isn't wise. The challenge for me now is to balance my excitement with caution. My secondary challenge is to not let my pessimism run away from me, because that side of me came out bigtime during high school and hasn't really left me.
In the end, my saving grace is that my grandpa's early predictions that I would be able to see probably by the time I was 16 because technology was just moving so fast have proven to be quite far off. While I would like to be presented the chance to get vision at some point during my lifetime, I also would be fine with the fact that it just might not happen that fast. During my childhood and teenage years, I might have refused to accept that, but now I do, at least somewhat. And the idea does have a positive side: if I accept the fact that my generation isn't physically ready to come face-to-face with this prospect, at least then this tricky decision won't ever be mine to make, which may be a good thing considering how easily I get overwhelmed.
Make more of less, that way you won't make less of more!
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