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Monocular vision is the ability to see with only one eye.
I am Monocular Designer.
A NEW VISION
A Designers Monocular Journey
For twenty years, I have dedicated myself to a cause that was more than just a profession—it was my innate passion.
As a digital designer, I have spent decades building websites for low-vision users, ensuring that everyone, regardless of their visual ability, could navigate the
digital world with confidence and ease.
My colleagues have praised my work, and users alike, recognizing my designs as both dynamic and functional—always centered around inclusivity.
But life, as it often does, took an unexpected turn.
One afternoon, I was leaving work and stumbled on the front concrete stairs of the building. Losing my balance, I battered my head, collapsing to the ground where I blacked out. Waking up in a pool of blood, I was disoriented and in shock as my adrenaline began racing through my veins. It was clear to me that I undoubtedly suffered a concussion and needed medical attention.
During my examination, I experienced an ocular event—my vision became blurred and compromised, and before I knew it, I was rushed to be admitted to the hospital. The diagnosis was an aneurysm crushing my left eye’s optic nerve, and it needed to be removed asap. Surgery then ensued.
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The weeks that followed were a haze of doctor visits, recovery, poking, prodding, and an overwhelming sense of loss. I was unsure if I was going to lose vision permanently.
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​My passion began to diminish with every negative, fearful thought of my ability to design! The physical pain was one thing, but the emotional toll was another. As a designer who had always relied on a keen eye for detail, I WAS DEVESTATED!
I felt as though I had lost a part of myself, literally and figuratively, deconstructing my identity as an artist. As the days turned into weeks, there was much time to reflect and manage my thoughts and emotions to realize something profound.
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An Aneurysm
An Aneurysm
My experience gave me a new perspective
A remembrance of the demographic of visually impaired users suddenly became deeply personal. My heart sank, and warmth ran through my body as I intimately connected to those users I had been designing for all these years.
​The irony struck me like lightning as I now related to them.
Determined to turn my loss into purpose, I dove back into my work with a fiery fever and a new sense of self, choosing to be a victor and not a victim of my circumstance. Since then, my insights have become invaluable in meetings and design sessions.
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I articulate the frustrations of low-vision users with transparency and advocacy stemming from lived experience and research. When developers hesitate to implement accessibility features, citing time or budget constraints, I stand firm, reminding them that Low-vision
features were not just features—they were necessities and rights. ​​
Can you feel my passion yet?
A new direction
Through it all, I have a renewed sense of direction. While I had lost sight in one eye, my vision for a more inclusive digital society had never been more apparent. My journey had come full circle, adding immeasurable value to my work, industry, and countless users who feel seen and heard.
