Being Strong Enough to Abandon the Idea that We are Less Than Anyone Else
Most people don’t know I have a disability. Most days, I prefer it that way because I used to be afraid of how people would react.
Today I decided to talk about it.
About sixteen years ago, I was diagnosed with a hearing loss. I’d been frustrating my family with a lot of comments like “Huh?” and “What did you say?” I saw an audiologist, expecting to be told something like I had an overabundance of ear wax.
Gross, yes – but easily dealt with.
Instead, I was told I had a “moderate” hearing loss, but a significant one for my age. I was in my early forties at the time. Y’all know how old I am now because I’ve blogged all about turning 60 last May.
The audiologist, who was probably in his seventies, chuckled as he said, “I have better hearing than you do.”
I wasn’t laughing. And I certainly didn’t laugh when he informed me that I needed hearing aids. Or when my husband filled out disability paperwork for me so that my first pair of hearing aids would be partially covered by insurance.
ME: I don’t have a disability.
MY HUSBAND: Yes, you do.
ME: Then make sure you fill out the paperwork for the handicapped parking permit, too.
MY HUSBAND (Unsure whether to laugh or sigh): That’s not how this works.
Sometimes the best thing to do when you’re facing an unexpected situation is to go looking for the humor in it.
Or … to not talk about it
And that’s how I’ve handled my hearing loss. I either laughed about it – When I first started wearing hearing aids I could hear my hair grow! – or I just avoided it.
It’s easy enough to hide my hearing aids beneath my hair. No short haircuts for me. And no one really notices if I say, “Pardon me?” once in a while because, well, don’t we all?
Sometimes my batteries stop working and I’ve perfected a little sleight of hand to switch in new ones. Some people do card tricks. I change my hearing aid batteries.
And sometimes when I’m in a crowded, noisy room I still struggle to hear conversations, even with my state-of-the-art hearing aids. I pretend I’m tracking what someone said. Or I give up and retreat to a quieter corner.
But the truth is, concealing my hearing loss isn’t easy.
Hiding the reality of who we are is exhausting – and I’m talking about all the things we want to keep hidden from others. Our physical disabilities. Our heart wounds. Whatever we think makes us “less than” who we want to be – or who we want others to think we are.
Yes, I have a hearing loss … but that doesn’t make me less than anyone. Of course, I don’t have to greet someone by saying, “Hi, my name is Beth and I wear hearing aids” – that would be overdoing it a bit, wouldn’t you agree?
But more and more, I’m accepting who I am and sharing honestly about who I am – my strengths and weaknesses – when appropriate. And I trust others will accept me, too. The ones who do? They’re the ones I call family and friends.
Being Strong Enough to Abandon the Idea that We are Less Than Anyone Else http://bit.ly/30B4GA0 #confidence #selfworth
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'Your problem is how are you going to spend this one odd and precious life you have been issued ... whether you are going to ... find out the truth of who you are.' Quote by Anne Lamott http://bit.ly/30B4GA0 #quote #perspective
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There’s still time to get an e-book version of Moments We Forget, book 2 in my Thatcher Sisters Series, for only $1.99! And I have to give a shout-out to my daughter Christa, who makes such fun graphics for me!
