VT Works

There are mornings lately when I wake up and, for a few seconds, just lie there staring at the ceiling. Not because I’m dreading the day, not at all, and it’s not because I’m overwhelmed. It’s more just because it’s quiet and still. And if I’m being honest, somewhere along the way, I started catching myself thinking, I think my get up and go got up and went.

Now before anyone panics – I’m not going anywhere. I still love this work as deeply as I ever have. But I think many of us who have been in vision therapy for a while will recognize this feeling: the subtle shift from pure momentum to something more reflective. Less sprinting and less proving. More rhythm and more knowing.

And if I’m really honest, I think it’s less about losing energy and more about recognizing how much energy this work has always required. Because vision therapy is not passive work. It never has been. It asks for your full attention, your full presence, your patience, your creativity, your adaptability, and your emotional bandwidth; often all at once. It asks you to hold space for frustrated parents, discouraged teens, overwhelmed adults, and kids who would rather be anywhere else but in your therapy room. Then somehow, within that, you’re expected to be calm, steady, inventive, encouraging, and clinical all at the same time.

And we do it.

Hour after hour. Day after day. Year after year.

Lately, when I think about my own “get up and go,” what I actually find myself thinking about are all of you – the Vision Therapists who shaped me, stood beside me, taught me, challenged me, and continue to inspire me every single day.

I think about the early days, when I didn’t know what I didn’t know. The Vision Therapists who patiently explained things twice, and then explained them again. The ones who gently corrected me in the hallway, who let me struggle just long enough to figure something out on my own, the ones who modeled calm in the middle of chaos, and the ones who made it look easy when it absolutely was not.

I think about the Vision Therapists I grew up alongside, the ones who learned through trial and error with me. We shared materials, ideas, frustrations, patient stories, and occasionally just shared exhaustion. We laughed at ourselves more than we admitted publicly. We texted each other photos of silly Vision Therapy setups. We celebrated small wins that no one outside our world would fully understand.

And I think about the Vision Therapists coming up now, the ones bringing new energy, new questions, new ideas, and a new lens to the work. Watching them reminds me that evolution is not just happening in our patients; it’s happening in our profession constantly.

If I’m moving a little differently these days, it’s not because the passion is gone. It’s because the perspective is wider. I notice more now. I appreciate more now. I see the layers in ways I didn’t earlier in my career.

I see how hard this work is.

I see how skilled the Vision Therapists around me truly are.

I see how often that skill goes unnoticed by the outside world.

But we notice. We always have.

So if you’ve had a morning recently where you felt like your “get up and go” was a little quieter than usual, I want you to know you’re not alone. It doesn’t mean you’ve lost anything. It might just mean you’ve earned something: experience, steadiness, confidence, and a deeper understanding of the work and of yourself within it.

These days, my “get up and go” feels less like a burst of energy and more like a quiet commitment. I still show up. I still care deeply. I still believe in what we do, but I also allow myself to breathe a little more, pause a little more, and appreciate the people around me a little more.

So this is really just a thank you.

To the Vision Therapists who came before me.

To the Vision Therapists who continue to walk beside me.

To the Vision Therapists who are just getting started.

This profession has given me more than I could ever fully articulate: friendships, purpose, challenge, growth, and countless moments of connection that still stay with me long after the day ends.

If my get up and go did get up and go, maybe what it left behind is something better.

A deeper gratitude for all of you.

And for the work we continue to do together.

Cheers!