As a Swedish farmer and someone deeply involved in horse breeding, my days are full of beauty, movement, and hard work, but I experience all of it a little differently than most people. I get asked a lot: How much eyesight do you actually have? And honestly, it's a bit hard to explain, but I'll do my best to tell you what life looks like through my eyes.
Let's start with distance vision. Long-distance is really blurry for me. That's one of the biggest challenges I deal with daily. It's actually a big reason why I use my phone so much, because I can zoom in. When I zoom, I can make out more details, and it gets a little easier. But without zooming, what I see in the distance is pretty much just fuzzy shapes and colors blending together.
Up close though? That's a completely different story. The closer I am to something, or someone, the better I can see. I can usually see details when I'm just a few inches away. It might sound small, but that ability means everything when you're working with animals, especially horses. Whether it's grooming, feeding, or training, I rely on touch, sound, and memory just as much as sight.
I also have something called nystagmus, which means my eyes are always moving constantly. Now imagine this: you're riding a horse. The horse is moving. Your body is moving. And then on top of that, your eyes are moving too. The result? It gets really blurry. Riding is absolutely one of my favorite things in the world, but it takes a lot of concentration for me, sometimes even more than for others, because my eyes just can't stay still while everything else is in motion.
For example, when I look at my horses from a distance, let's say Nicki, I can't see details like her head, her ears, or her markings. I just see a brown shape. And if another brown horse, like Fiona, is standing next to her, it becomes nearly impossible for me to tell them apart unless I'm up close or I hear a sound that helps me figure out who's who. Honestly, that's probably why I had such a hard time telling the difference between them for so long, they just look so much alike from my blurry view.
If you've ever had an eye exam, you know that chart on the wall with all the letters? I can usually see the bigger ones at the top, but only under very specific conditions. My head has to be tilted just right, and my eyes have to be perfectly still. If they aren't, even the top letters disappear from view.
Being a Swedish farmer with low vision means I've learned to trust other senses, and my animals. Horses, in particular, notice things way before I do. Just the other day, my horse Trash saw something in the forest long before I even knew something was out there. That happens a lot. It's like my horses are my second set of eyes, and over the years, we've developed a rhythm that works.
When it comes to horse breeding, my vision might not be typical, but it hasn't stopped me from being hands-on in every part of the process. From choosing the right pairings to assisting with foaling, I've learned to use every available sense, and to build a system that works for me. My close-up vision, my instincts, and my deep connection to the animals make up for what I can't see from afar.
I know my story is unique, but I hope it shows that you don't need perfect vision to live a full, joyful, and productive life on the farm. Whether I'm bottle-feeding a foal, watching the sunrise over the pasture, or zooming in on my phone to see who just walked into the barn, I wouldn't trade this life for anything.
I'm Malin, a Swedish farmer, a horse breeder, and a woman who sees the world a little differently, and that's perfectly okay.
