I remember riding the bus through the city as a little child. My mother and I were going to see the doctor to get my very own bold blue, glow-in-the-dark hearing aids. They had let me pick out the colors all by myself! That day I left the clinic with a new plush piggie and a picture book about a bunny with hearing aids. I was ready for kindergarten.
It’s always a special treat when I get to hear other peoples’ unique stories of God’s movement in their lives. So, today I’m sharing a little part of my story in hopes that it might encourage someone. This post is all about what it was like growing up with hearing loss and how God helped me to come to peace with it. Honestly, it was a little difficult growing up with hearing loss. Eventually my discouragement and self consciousness began to eat away at me. I praise God that he used someone else’s story to teach me joy in the midst of life challenges.
How I got Bilateral Sensorineural Hearing Loss at a young age
An ear-fryer fever got me good when I was about 2 years old. After that, my mom noticed little things. I was too good at blocking out distractions. I giggled when she talked sometimes, saying “what’s a DINK?!” when she had said “sink.” She took me to an Audiologist who diagnosed me with bilateral mild-to-moderate sensorineural hearing loss.
That means the nerves that send auditory information to the brain are damaged in both ears. There is no way to fix it. Fortunately in my case, those nerves can still pick up the sounds if we can get them loud enough. See this handy chart showing decibel levels for different levels of hearing loss. My hearing aids amplify the frequencies I have difficulty detecting so that the nerves can “hear” them and pass that information along to my brain.
(BTW, yelling doesn’t necessarily help people who are hard of hearing – enunciate more clearly instead).
What it’s like to grow up with hearing loss & hearing aids:
Social situations were just hard.
People would call my name and I’d walk by completely oblivious. I missed the punchline to the joke every. single. time. On a daily basis I embarrassed myself responding to what I thought someone said. I could not participate in “telephone” in any capacity. (Shout out to my BFF who knew to use a little voice, thanks for having my back). Plus, I could hardly hear a single word on the bus and all the kids were weird, so I walked as soon as I was old enough.
Other kids noticed and asked questions about my hearing aids.
I quickly learned that having bold blue hearing aids was not as exciting as I felt at first. Other kids’ questions were innocent enough, but they made me feel very self conscious. I HATED the attention.
My hearing aids HURT, but no one really believed me or knew what to do.
I got my first hearing aids in 2001. They were chunky, especially for a tiny 5 year old girl. 20 years later, I still remember the sharp pain where my ear meets my head. The audiologist kept saying I would get used to it if I just kept wearing them. That didn’t work.
Adults bribed me to wear my hearing aids and I learned to game the system.
I would not wear my hearing aids because they hurt so much. By the time I got to 4th grade, I would take them out of my backpack at lunch to go show the nurse I was wearing them. She’d reward me with gummy worms, and the hearing aids would go back in my backpack as soon as I returned to class.
Teacher meetings about IEP plans and accommodations.
So. Many. Meetings. While I don’t recall much about those meetings from elementary school, I do remember the results of those meetings. All my teachers wore microphones for classroom PA systems. Those were fun when the teacher left class for a minute and we could all giggle as we overheard their conversation.
Well-meaning adults obsessed over trying to help me.
I’d randomly get pulled into meetings with other students who wore hearing aids, too. One time a woman at school told me that I could learn how to hear again, and my poor mother had to explain she was wrong. Most of the time, I felt like adults at school had slightly-overbearing suggestions for tech or other suggestions to help that really weren’t necessary.
They hounded me so much about “advocating for myself” that I still hate that phrase, as well as the word “accommodations.” Blech. I think all the unwanted attention contributed to my denial of my hearing loss as a preteen.
My choir teacher finally got me to wear my hearing aids by motivating me with something I love.
Going into seventh grade, I got new hearing aids that had three major pros: they fit inside my ear, they didn’t hurt at all, and they were much less noticeable. But, I was so used to going without them by then, so I still didn’t wear them. One day my choir director gently asked if I was wearing my hearing aids. She said that my singing voice sounds nicer when I wear them. I wanted to be the next Hannah Montana, so that worked.
Speech therapy made me feel stupid.
The speech therapist was really nice. The whole speech therapy process just made me feel like a dumb little kid when I had to go at 12 or 13. My friends told me they couldn’t hear anything strange about the way I talk. I’m not sure whether I quit or they just didn’t have a speech therapist at the high school. As an adult, I have only met one or two people who could tell I am hard of hearing because of my speech. They were closely familiar with someone who is deaf.
I got overwhelmed by my hearing loss.
By high school I was emotionally weary of all the attention my hearing loss brought and how much energy it took just to hang out with friends. It seemed the impacts on my life were endless.
And so, a big, fat “WHY ME?” settled into my soul.
For a little while, that attitude consumed me. It colored every experience.
How I learned to be at peace with my hearing loss
1. There Are Reasons to Thank God for Your Life, Whatever Your Challenge Is.
One summer at family camp when I was 16 there was a counselor I’ll call Brandon (that’s not his real name). Brandon had visible skin grafts all over his body. He told his story to my mother and I.
As a young teenager, a horrific accident covered the majority of his body in 3rd degree burns. He nearly lost both legs. After months in the hospital, he got to leave with all his body parts, and a new skin texture to say the least. Now he is in pain every day. His body can’t regulate temperature so he had to take regular breaks to go sit in the walk-in fridge.
I was shocked when Brandon finished telling his story. He expressed so much thankfulness to God for his life, and I could tell he really meant it. All that pain and ongoing health complication, and not a hint of “why me?”
2. Celebrate Your Abilities
I remember being in awe of Brandon’s joy in the Lord that afternoon. I wanted that joy. In excitement, I thought of what I could do despite my hearing loss. Suddenly, instead of asking God “why won’t you heal my hearing?” I was praising him for my ability to sing. I praised him for giving me enough hearing to enjoy music. I am thankful that I can understand people and communicate with them even if it takes a little extra effort sometimes.
Little did I know I would end up singing in the community college chamber choir and an operetta production, Rogers and Hammerstein’s “Patience.” All because I learned to thank God for what I do have instead of looking at everything I don’t have. In hindsight, I’m curious how much that lesson impacted my healing in the other challenges in my life.
3. Other People don’t care that much
As I found peace by living with joy in God’s blessing on my life, I became less self-focused when it came to hearing loss. Eventually it stopped feeling like everyone’s eyes were on me whenever I misheard something or somebody asked about my hearing aids. I may feel self-conscious from time to time, but shame over my hearing loss doesn’t rule my life anymore. Other folks are probably just as distracted by their own stuff, anyway.
I eventually became a camp counselor myself. Every week on the first day of camp I’d explain to my campers that I wear hearing aids and ask them to help me out by telling me when the meal bell rings, etc. It was an awkward conversation sometimes, but ultimately was a strengthening tool that helped my campers be a team. Doing that, I learned that by talking about my hearing loss matter-of-fact like it is no big deal, other people take it that way too.
4. God has you right where he wants you, and it’s beautiful.
In the fall after we heard Brandon’s story, my mother and I took American Sign Language classes together at the local Community College. It sparked a miniature identity crisis. I, for myself, and my mother, on my behalf. She wondered if I could have felt more relaxed growing up if she had known about the Deaf and Hard of Hearing community & surrounded me with kids who were like me.
While it may have been cool to grow up using sign language, that’s not the life God gave me. Brandon’s joy in God’s gift of life was an inspiration, a spiritual watering on my seed of faith. I learned from that, and a few other life experiences, that the life God has given me is beautiful. No matter how difficult or unexpected, I trust that God makes beautiful things – and he has made something beautiful out of what he’s given me. So I don’t waste time wishing things could have been different.
As a young adult with hearing loss, it’s still hard sometimes.
I’m thankful I still have that joy in God and that I don’t feel like my hearing loss holds me back in any way. However, having joy doesn’t mean pretending that things aren’t hard sometimes. Can I just say that glasses, hearing aids, masks, and trying to communicate through plexiglass is extremely exhausting? I ended up changing jobs over that whole situation. Anyway, getting back on track…
A therapist once pointed out to me that having hearing loss must be a little isolating. Yes, it is. It’s hard when there’s a fun conversation in the car and I can’t hear what other people are saying. Anytime I can’t lipread I miss out a little bit. It’s hard when my soft-spoken employer asks me to do something, and all I can say is “what?”
Please don’t show me my stats on the word, “what?” when I die. That’s all I ask!
In all seriousness, however, each person has a challenge that’s unique to them. You may not have hearing loss, but whatever it is that takes a bit more effort for you than for others, know that your life is a treasure. Your effort is not wasted. God is “an ever present help in time of trouble.” (Psalm 46:1) You can lean on him at trust him to help you with these challenges.
For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:10
Conclusion
Thank you SO much for reading today. It is truly an honor to share what it was liking growing up with sensorineural hearing loss, how I developed “why me” syndrome, and how God helped me over come discouragement with hearing loss.
- There are reasons to thank God for your life, whatever your challenge is.
- Celebrate your abilities.
- People don’t care that much.
- God has you right where he wants you, and it’s beautiful.
I hope you learned something or that this encouraged you. Is there anything God has helped you overcome? As always, please join my email list so you can get my next post delivered to your inbox!
With love, Almost a walrus
