017 Personal Perspectives on Vision Loss with Maxwell Ivey

Today I am joined by Max Ivey, known online as the "Blind Blogger," who shares his remarkable journey from growing up in a family of carnival owners to becoming a successful entrepreneur and author. After losing his sight to what was recently re-diagnosed as Bardet-Biedl Syndrome, Max taught himself to code and build a digital presence long before web accessibility was a standard. We explore how the "make-opening" mentality of the carnival world fueled his resilience and how he uses "determined positivity" to navigate life's setbacks. Join us as we discuss the power of honest storytelling and the importance of treating every person with vision loss as a unique individual.

The Midway of the Mind

As a psychotherapist who works daily with the nuances of disability adjustment, I am often looking for the "bridge" between a person’s past life and their current reality with vision loss. In my recent conversation with Max Ivey, I found that bridge on a carnival midway in East Texas. Max, known to many as the "Blind Blogger," grew up in a world of Ferris wheels and cotton candy stands, but the lessons he took from that colorful environment were anything but superficial.

Conducting this interview was a reflective experience for me. As Max spoke about his family’s business, I was struck by the concept of "making opening". In the carnival world, it doesn’t matter if your truck broke down or your resources are low; success is defined by whether you are ready for the public when the gates open. As Max noted, "Your week was a failure" if you weren't open. This might sound harsh, but for Max, it became a foundational lesson in resilience. It’s a mentality that many of us in the low-vision community have to adopt: the world doesn't stop because our vision changes, and finding a way to "open" our lives each day—even when it's difficult—is an act of profound courage.

One of the most meaningful takeaways from our talk was Max’s insistence on the term "individuals with disabilities". In my practice, I see how often society tries to treat people with vision loss as a monolithic group. But Max correctly pointed out that even two people with the same diagnosis and the same technology will find different solutions to the same problems based on their unique personality and mood. He even admitted that his own orientation and mobility technique fluctuates based on his emotional state. This level of self-awareness is exactly what we strive for in the adjustment process—acknowledging that we aren't "robots" of independence, but humans navigating a spectrum of challenges.

We also explored the fine line between toxic positivity and what Max calls "determined positivity". As a counselor, I am wary of "positive vibes only" culture because it can lead to a dishonest suppression of grief. However, Max clarified that his approach is about building a habit of looking for the positive so that when the inevitable trauma hits, we have the mental infrastructure to recover. He calls this "honest storytelling"—telling ourselves the truth about our situation while also choosing to see the potential for growth.

I found Max’s story of teaching himself HTML particularly moving. Imagine going character-by-character with a screen reader to build a website in 2007, when accessibility was barely a consideration. He didn't have a choice; he needed a way to earn a living. That "no choice" moment is something many of us face after a diagnosis. It forces us to do things we never thought we could, eventually leading us to what Max’s mentor calls our "zone of genius". For Max, that genius isn't just selling carnival rides; it's inspiring others to move forward.

As we wrapped up, Max left us with a powerful question: "What is one small thing I can do today to move myself forward?". For some, that might be learning a new piece of technology; for others, it might be simply deciding to be more honest with themselves about their needs. My hope for our listeners is that they take Max’s carnival-bred resilience to heart. We may not have "literal clear eyes," as I mentioned during our chat, but we can certainly have "metaphorical clear eyes" by practicing the kind of honest storytelling Max exemplifies.

Living well with vision loss is a personal journey, and as Max says, everything we do is personal. Whether you are following someone’s shoulder or using a white cane, what matters is the quality of your life and your willingness to keep growing. Thank you, Max, for reminding us that even on the most difficult midways, there is always a way to find the light.

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018 The Complexities of Caregiving with Ronda Thorington LPC

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016 Cooking without Looking with Debra Erickson