Kat’s Eye View: Breaking up, no contact

By Katharine Lotze

Last update: Friday, February 24th, 2017

It was a normal Tuesday.

I didn’t realize you were gone for good until I got out of the shower.

Looking around, I could hardly see. My eyes blurred; I couldn’t even see my face in the mirror.

It happened so suddenly! One minute you were there, the next you were gone, and here I was, left to go about my day – my life! – as normal.

I tried to think about how I could even go to work. I have to photograph a soccer game, a veterinarian at the shelter, go to a meeting. How could I focus?

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Opening them again, my eyes still blurred. I knew it was going to be a long day.

And then, I started to blame you. Something wasn’t right. I knew it. Had I done something wrong? No, I did everything as usual. How could I not have noticed that something was amiss, or inside out, or backwards?

I rubbed my eyes, but still, they weren’t any clearer. With no backup plan, no other options, I just had to carry on my day as normal. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, and how’d I’d move on.

I’d have to start all over. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but I’d been in this position before, only last time, I was ready. I was ready to toss out the old, and bring on the new. I was ready to start all over.

But now, I was unprepared. I tried to put on my makeup, squinting at myself in the mirror, but I went about it absentmindedly. Where did you go? How could you have slipped out without a trace, without so much as a fight? How could I have not seen this coming?

This already wasn’t easy. But I was already starting to feel like I could do this. I could get through this day. And tomorrow was a new day. I could look forward to that. I could look forward to a fresh start, waking up with clear eyes, and a clear mind, leaving this headache of a day behind.

But I’ll never stop wondering where exactly I lost my left eye’s contact that normal Tuesday morning — so much for what they say. Hindsight is not twenty-twenty when you lose a contact.

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Kat’s Eye View: Breaking up, no contact

It was a normal Tuesday.

I didn’t realize you were gone for good until I got out of the shower.

Looking around, I could hardly see. My eyes blurred; I couldn’t even see my face in the mirror.

It happened so suddenly! One minute you were there, the next you were gone, and here I was, left to go about my day – my life! – as normal.

I tried to think about how I could even go to work. I have to photograph a soccer game, a veterinarian at the shelter, go to a meeting. How could I focus?

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. Opening them again, my eyes still blurred. I knew it was going to be a long day.

And then, I started to blame you. Something wasn’t right. I knew it. Had I done something wrong? No, I did everything as usual. How could I not have noticed that something was amiss, or inside out, or backwards?

I rubbed my eyes, but still, they weren’t any clearer. With no backup plan, no other options, I just had to carry on my day as normal. But I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, and how’d I’d move on.

I’d have to start all over. It would be uncomfortable for a while, but I’d been in this position before, only last time, I was ready. I was ready to toss out the old, and bring on the new. I was ready to start all over.

But now, I was unprepared. I tried to put on my makeup, squinting at myself in the mirror, but I went about it absentmindedly. Where did you go? How could you have slipped out without a trace, without so much as a fight? How could I have not seen this coming?

This already wasn’t easy. But I was already starting to feel like I could do this. I could get through this day. And tomorrow was a new day. I could look forward to that. I could look forward to a fresh start, waking up with clear eyes, and a clear mind, leaving this headache of a day behind.

But I’ll never stop wondering where exactly I lost my left eye’s contact that normal Tuesday morning — so much for what they say. Hindsight is not twenty-twenty when you lose a contact.

About the author

Katharine Lotze

Katharine Lotze

Katharine Lotze is a photojournalist and columnist at the Signal, and can be found photographing daily life in Santa Clarita, or writing personal essays about her own daily life.

Katharine Lotze

Katharine Lotze

Katharine Lotze is a photojournalist and columnist at the Signal, and can be found photographing daily life in Santa Clarita, or writing personal essays about her own daily life.