Pirate Eye

January 13, 2025

In the 1970’s, eye patches for girls with amblyopia were decidedly uncool.  A quick internet search tells me that nowadays, you can get patches designed with unicorns, rainbows, ladybugs, and puppies.  This was not the case in the summer of 1974.  My claim to fame was a round, black cloth with an elastic band that wrapped clumsily around my head.  I was a shy kid who loved to read.  There was no part of me that wanted to look like Captain Jack Sparrow.

Treatment for my “lazy eye” the summer I was 7 involved patching my “good eye” to “encourage” the bad one to work harder.  The experiment was an epic failure, leading only to social ostracization and nightly sobbing because I couldn’t see the book a half inch from my eyes.

Over the years my eyes have come to a tenuous contractual agreement: my right eye does most of the work, and the left one tags along behind – sometimes helping, sometimes hindering.  This arrangement has been relatively effective except when other problems creep in, the most recent being cataracts.  Because when my right eye can’t do its job properly, the whole system falls to pieces.  

For any therapist interested in “parts,” this scenario is an Internal Family Systems dream.  For the purposes of this exercise, let’s call my right eye “Hard-Working Martyr” and my left eye “Under-Resourced Whiner.”  

Here’s a sample dialogue between the two.

Hardworking Martyr (in a panic):  It’s getting really cloudy in here.  Our Host can’t see!  I’m doing all the work here.  Can’t you help out for once?

Under-resourced Whiner (slowly, after a long pause): Um, yeah, if it’s cloudy for you, it’s way cloudier for me.  You don’t realize how easy you have it.  You got lucky.  I’m exhausted all the time.

Hardworking Martyr: Easy? Lucky?  I’m exhausted too!  Sometimes you just have to get out of bed and go to work.  I’m really sick of your learned helplessness.

Underresourced Whiner: Don’t patronize me.  I know that “learned helplessness” is just a euphemism for “lazy.”   No-one seems to understand that I was born this way!  

If these two would step playing the blame game for a moment, they might understand that they have more in common than they realize.  Another conversation might go like this:

Hardworking Martyr (In a rare moment of vulnerability): Hey you? Are you awake?  I’m scared.  I’ve been working harder than ever,  but I just can’t make the sun come out.  What’s my purpose in life if I can’t hold the fort down?

Under-Resourced Whiner: I’m scared too.  It’s never been this overcast before.  I know I never say it, but I’d be lost without you.  Hey, why don’t you take a break?  I actually got a good night’s sleep. 

It’s sweet that these two are showing more empathy for each other.  But “Under-Resourced Whiner” is just too limited to take over.  And “Hardworking Martyr” is genuinely too tired to be very effective. Sometimes, despite everyone’s best efforts, the system needs to change, and the only option is to take decisive action – together.

From a therapeutic perspective, this is the moment of true change – when “parts” let down their guard to accept the help they need.  But if we’re not listening carefully, we might not hear their plea:

Both: Hey host?  We need help!

I just learned that I’m eligible for cataract surgery, and that afterwards, I may only need glasses for reading. After a lifetime of discomfort, this is hard to even fathom.  Because after surgery, these parts are going to have to do some serious adjusting.  Hardworking Martyr might have to let go of all the guilt-tripping, and accept that working hard isn’t the only proof of a meaningful life.  Under-resourced Whiner might have to accept that it now has what it needs to succeed, and will have to set the alarm to get to work on time.

They're definitely gonna need some new names.