Its September 27th and its Sickle Cell Shades Day! A day dedicated to bringing awareness on one the effects of my condition: Sickle Retinopathy. A condition that cost me my left eye in 2022. I tell my story and the leadership lessons I learned from it in this post.
As we close out the last few days of Sickle Cell Awareness month- I’m especially thankful for all the advocacy work to bring awareness and health equity. I’m also excited to use this story to kick off a series on the vital and critical leadership quality we all need - Vision.
Have you ever faced a moment when the clarity you relied on—both literally and figuratively—suddenly blurred, leaving you uncertain of the next step?
In January 2020, my view was expansive. I was in Bali, basking in the anticipation of the adventures ahead, excited about the work I had done to prepare for the projects and opportunities that would unfold in the new year.
Fast forward to March 2020, and that view had drastically changed. In front of me, clients were on the verge of canceling. They were unsure of the future and asking me for direction. Around me, my support staff sought clarity on priorities, while above me, company leadership pressured me to figure out how to retain client revenue. Everything was shifting, and it felt like the walls were closing in.
By June 2020, my view became even more literal. One day, I noticed a blur on the periphery of my left eye. At first, I dismissed it—there was so much else to focus on. But as the days passed, my eyesight began to change, and eventually, all I could see was directly in front of me. Everything above, below, and around was completely obscured, a fog surrounding my vision.
Out of annoyance, I finally made an appointment with the eye doctor, expecting nothing more than a routine checkup. But within a minute of being seen, they called a specialist—immediately. My heart sank. A deep breath. I took an Uber to the specialist, and after a series of tests, he delivered the news: my retina was detached.
My response? “My what is detached?”His response? He calmly unpacked the details, explaining the situation and its implications.
My response? “Okay.” I took a deep breath, smiled, nodded, and thought to myself: “Don’t panic, don’t worry. The sign on the door says 'retina specialist.' I fully trust that he’ll know what to do next.” So, I said, “Fix it.”
His response? “Well, not quite. In its current state, we’re not sure what the best options are or what forward looks like.”
My response? “Mr. Specialist, what direction can you provide at this time?”
His response? “Stabilize—and wait. Wait and see… no pun intended, of course.”
My world felt even more uncertain. I was angry. It’s this man’s job to tell me what to do, what my options are, and where to go next. But there were no clear answers. Over the next few weeks, I spent hours consulting "Uncle Google" and reflecting on the irony of it all. The timing. The vision. The loss of clarity—both in my work and in my literal eyesight.
I decided to take a break. I needed space. I went to the safest place I could think of: my parents’ house. One day, while sitting with my mom, the weight of everything hit me, and for the first time, I burst into tears. I told her how I felt like my greatest strength as a leader—my vision—had become my greatest weakness.
My mother, with her usual calm wisdom, responded, "Natou, don’t confuse your sight with your vision."
The Distinction Between Sight and Vision
That was the first lesson I had to learn: sight and vision are not the same. Sight is what we see in front of us, but vision is deeper. Vision is insight, intuition, and faith in what lies ahead, even when it’s unclear.
Lesson 1: Take a Break, but Don’t Escape
It’s okay to take a break when things feel overwhelming, but don’t use it as an escape. Be present with the situation, even when it’s ambiguous. Having honest conversations with friends, colleagues, and even yourself about uncertainty is critical. It’s okay to say, "I don’t know yet." There is no shame in sitting with the discomfort of not having immediate answers.
Lesson 2: Direction Comes from Insight, Not Sight
When my physical sight was compromised, I realized that true direction comes from a deeper place—insight. In times of uncertainty, the priority is not just stability but also tapping into that inner knowing. It’s about going deep, connecting with your intuition, and trusting yourself. This is a quality that, frankly, isn’t emphasized enough in leadership. But in those moments, I knew that through my spiritual nature, I was already connected to the right answers and the inspiration I needed.
Lesson 3: Let Go of Attachments to Specific Outcomes
No matter how much technology, data, or planning we have, the human experience will always have blind spots. In this situation, I had to accept my limited view, trust the wisdom of others, and let go of any attachment to specific outcomes. As circumstances shifted, I learned to rely on faith and seize unforeseen opportunities with quiet confidence and a flexible spirit.
Looking back, my mother’s words echo even louder: “Don’t confuse your sight with your vision.” Life’s most significant lessons come when we lose the clarity we thought we had. But it’s in those moments, when sight is lost, that vision—true vision—emerges. And in that vision, we find the strength to move forward, not just seeing the path but trusting in it.
So, I ask you again: Have you ever faced a moment when the clarity you relied on—both literally and figuratively—suddenly blurred, leaving you uncertain of the next step? How did you find your way forward?
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