So, before we get into today’s post, go mosey on over to Bad Words and read Tulpen’s post: Either Way. Then come on back over and let’s talk.
Tulpen’s son, Owen, told his mom, “Don’t want to be Deaf. Want to be Hearing.”
I can relate. That’s pretty much how I felt– from the time I first began losing my hearing in elementary school until I became deaf. I can remember being able to hear–I would crawl into bed and listen to my dad tell me the story of Scamp and Tiny– two dogs that went on adventures all over town. I can also remember the day that I stopped crawling into bed– I could no longer understand what my dad was saying in the dark. I had become sick with a high fever for nearly a week and shortly after that, I had the “hard of hearing” label tacked on. I was never able to use the phone after that. The words that entered my brain were pretty much scrambled and I resorted to lipreading.
I hated the hearing aid. Hated the daily struggle to access communication. I often wished that I had normal hearing. I held back on life, thinking that “if only I had normal hearing I would do this.” Or that.
In elementary school, the kids on the bus teased me, sometimes mercilessly. I kept my eyes straight ahead or I sometimes buried myself in a book on the rides home. My best friend, Pattie, defended me on the bus. Twelve years ago, I received a letter out of the blue from one of my tormenters, asking forgiveness. He had become a born-again Christian and the teasing had weighed heavily on him over the years.
I had long ago forgiven, I just didn’t know it. The forgiveness came from the journey to acceptance– in the form of a severe whack on the head when I tripped on a wake while barefoot water skiing. I was nineteen. I could no longer hear anything without a hearing aid perched in my ears. But it turned out to be the very best thing to happen to me. I finally, after years and years of battling, finally accepted the whole me. I embraced the new journey and my world filled up with new deaf and hard of hearing friends and American Sign Language became a part of life. As for me– I was deaf– and it was okay.
Then one by one, my kids started collecting audiograms. David was nearly three, Lauren was four, and Steven was two– and then we started killing more trees and collecting IEP paperwork. And like Owen, each one of my kids has had their days when they wished they had hearing in the normal range. And when they expressed that, my heart always did a little blip. More often than not, it was a cycle– a season in their life– where they became more self-aware, or they matured, or a struggle of some kind would trigger it. The rest of the time, all was well–they would settle back into being comfortable and happy with life again.
And it might surprise some of you to know that I even have moments of self-pity when I wish I could hear. I had one of those moments while sitting at a banquet after a tournament this summer– and tears started to fall. My friend Sharon was my interpreter that night and I told her what I was feeling. I was reflecting over the whole summer of tournaments. “I wish I could hear the announcements, the conversations that flow around me, the jokes that get told on the boat– I miss out on all that stuff. And sometimes I can’t lipread some of the folks I meet…” I whined. Yes, I whined.
We are human. In moments of humaness (is that even a word?) all of us wish for something else. Thinner, taller, younger, smarter, richer–whatever it is, that darn grass is always greener somewhere else. But ultimately, we have to cultivate that little patch of green we’re standing on. We have to bloom where we are planted. Corny–yes–but it’s something I live by.
Oh, and those announcements that I wished I could hear? Well, at one of the tournaments, another barefooter said to me, “You’re lucky you can’t hear Dave (the announcer) — he goes on and on and on– sometimes I wish I could turn my ears off.”
The grass is always greener…
Comments
10 responses to “Wanting to Be Hearing”
Can definitley relate to the occasional self pitty. I think for the most part I have adjusted ok to losing my hearing but there are times where the frustration really does set in.
awwww…. thanks for this….
I know that his feeling that way was a result of him being home for the summer and away from his Deaf bubble. He had little contact with his Deaf friends and got a taste of the Hearing world 24/7.
That incident took place at the very end of the summer.. poor kid was just ALL DONE with us Hearing folk.
He’s always been so proud of who he is… or maybe I’m projecting that onto him… It knocked me down to hear him say he didn’t want to be who he is…
Thanks again for this… will link it to my post…
Nolan is starting to become a little self aware and he often asks why he has to wear hearing aids (or glasses, or use the C-Pap mask)… fortunately the kids in his class are all great so far, but they are very young and I know there will be a rocky road ahead for him, especially in the middle school years. We are too rural to have many kids with hearing aids in the local area, so he is one of only a few in his entire elementary school sporting “ear gear.”
I hope he becomes as resilient as your kids, and learns to adapt and deal with situations as they arise. It can be a tough (hearing) world out there…
The frustrating days are always going to be there– the ups and downs of trying to access communication… I allow myself to experience the frustration fully and acknowledge it, then move on. So if you see me crying now and then… LOL
Tulpen, thanks for sharing!
Leah, middle school has always been a rougher road– a time of so much change for kids. It’s also when some kids pull away socially because the conversation becomes more sophisticated and harder to manage. Keep in touch and let me know how it goes!
I love this post and am loving your blog. Just found you this morning and am so glad I did.
I was an interpreter for 3 years (until I had my first baby), but have been signing ASL since I was 6. I have a deep love for the Deaf culture. As I interpreted in public schools, I remember chatting with kids about this very issue. Every child, whether they were from a Deaf family or not, had this feeling…if only I could hear.
You are right though, the grass is always greener.
I look forward to getting to know you better through this amazing thing called the internet 🙂
I hope he turn out to be strong and find out the way to adapt and overcome with the circumstances as they arise. It can be a tough (hearing) world out there. If parents are not accepting that their baby has hearing-impaired and still denying the impact of deafness due to the effects on the child to promote his own denial and lack of authenticity. As a result a child is incapable to accept him and his ability to come out as unique person is the world. He locked himself in an existential lie and become unable to relate to themselves and other deaf people and the world in an authentic way.
This is a great blog, i have been trying to look for bloggers that have heart filled stories
*LIKE*
😉