My summer has largely consisted of refreshing my LinkedIn feed, polishing up my resume, and applying to jobs. Besides looking for a “big girl job,” this summer has also brought about change to my hearing health as well.
A couple months ago, I was editing an article for the Association of Late Deafened Adults (ALDA), where I am the editor for the newsletter. The article was about the Oticon More hearing aid. After doing a quick Google search about this hearing aid, the part that stood out to me was that this particular hearing aid could increase speech understanding by 15%. Intrigued by this finding, in June I asked my audiologist about purchasing an Oticon More for my next hearing aid. I had the same hearing aid since freshman year of high school, and let’s face it -- getting a new one was probably way overdue. My audiologist agreed that it was probably time to get a new hearing aid, and soon I had an appointment set up to get a new hearing aid! I hadn’t realized that hearing technology had been advancing so much in the time that I had my old hearing aid. When I got my new hearing aid, I swapped out my dome for an ear mold and traded voices and sounds that I could not understand for voice clarity and understanding. In fact, when I found out that my new hearing aid could connect to my phone via bluetooth, I was ecstatic. I could enjoy music again for the first time in four years. I remember excitedly calling my closest friends on my cell phone right when I got home and hearing them tentatively pick up. Up until that point, I only called if it was an emergency or by accident. After I called my friends, I called my grandma, who I call Granny, and she sounded so excited for me. I hadn’t realized how much I missed hearing the sound of her voice until I was talking to her over the phone. After we hung up, I cried on my bedroom floor. My new hearing aid has given me the opportunity to experience and enjoy sound again. I’ve been able to hear sounds that I’ve almost forgotten existed: the hum of the AC, my dogs’ paws tapping the floor, pages turning. I’m even grateful for the more annoying sounds too, like the sound of people chewing food. After I had the chance to re-experience sounds, I also had a moment of self-doubt. Now that I could hear better, was I still hard of hearing? I spent the past couple years learning how to accept my disability, but was getting a new hearing aid that gave me a newfound ability to hear mean that I needed to drop my disability identity? I wrestled internally with this thought in my mind for the next week or so. After a heartfelt conversation with my mom, I came to this conclusion: My new hearing aid doesn’t make me less hard of hearing. I thought it did at first, especially because I can hold conversations pretty well now. My new hearing aid helps me hear, but it doesn’t take away my experiences and identity as a hard of hearing person. I know ASL, I love learning more about disability, and I’ve learned how to advocate for myself. In conversations now, I sometimes still have to ask people to repeat themselves (which was a moment of familiarity that brought me comfort). However, I’m also able to participate in group conversations without being too confused, I don’t get listening fatigue as much, and I can even listen to my favorite songs if I pull up the lyric videos too. I can hear tone and catch side comments and can contribute a laugh of my own and mean it. My new hearing aid has reopened a world for me that I thought I would no longer be a part of. I am so grateful to have the chance to experience hearing again. As I continue to take in this change, I will continue to learn more ASL and educate myself about disability. My new hearing aid does not make me less hard of hearing, but I will forever be grateful for the hearing that it has given me every time I put my hearing aid on.
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I watched The Greatest Showman with my family recently, and while I watched Zac Efron and Hugh Jackman twirling and singing their way through their challenges and triumphs, a familiar feeling of resentment and sadness started to tug on my sleeve. I genuinely forgot that music playing in movies existed. Music is something that I really miss. I miss the feeling about being able to recognize a song on the radio and dance and sing along. I miss getting excited about a music artist dropping a new album and getting to time travel and teleport and immerse myself in the lyrics. I miss hearing the Harry Potter theme, the Narnia soundtrack and that one song from Bridge to Terabithia that just gets you every time!! When I do hear music now, it is warbly and distorted. It sounds more like screaming or when someone is speaking too close too a microphone. It’s indiscernible and definitely not enjoyable. Missing music, regrettably, Is something I always think I’m going to miss. Signing songs to music has become increasingly difficult over the past year, which is something I’ve always enjoyed. Recently, I was making a Spotify playlist for a friend and filling it with throwback songs—songs that have become a distant memory to me, but once I think of, I can jog it back in my mind. Sure, it’s not exactly a fresh memory, but I remember blaring music from my speakers in seventh grade and listening to Taylor Swift and Katy Perry on loop. When I watch Harry Potter now, I can fill in the gaps — associate where the songs go — opening theme is here, jaunty tune goes there… remembering and guessing definitely isn’t the same thing as experiencing the sound for myself…..but I do have a pretty good imagination. But, one thing that remains consistent is the birds. I can always hear the birds. Most of you know that I love birds. Loved them growing up, love them now, will always love them. So this is something that is really special to me. I hear my parakeet Teacup repeating his name over and over from the other room, and when I go over to tell him to be quiet, I still hear him quietly muttering under his breath. Some birds made their nest on our neighbor’s porch, and recently the babies have learned how to fly. Whenever I go on prayer walks with Charlie, I always see them. They’re twittering and chirping, and doing circles and arcs through the sky, and I hear them. I like to think that those three birds are God’s way of encouraging me. Seeing the three little birds reminds me of the song by Bob Marley. These are some of the lyrics: “Three little birds Pitch by my doorstep Singin' sweet songs Of melodies pure and true, Sayin', ("this is my message to you-ou-ou:") Singin': "don't worry 'bout a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be all right." Last year in my social psychology class we learned that the more symmetrical a person’s face is, the more attractive and likeable they are. It made sense to me though. The media’s standard for beautiful women is perfect hair, perfect teeth, and stick-thin figures. But when and why did that standard become society’s standard for acceptable, appealing beauty? We all have insecurities — little things we don’t like about ourselves. Maybe it’s your nose or the way you dress. Maybe these insecurities are new, maybe you’ve had them for awhile. But one thing we all fail to realize, is that these things we don’t like about ourselves is what makes you, well, you. Growing up, my classmates would always ask me “what’s wrong with your eye?” and I remember going into a long, detailed account of eye surgeries I had when I was a baby. I know all kids are just curious, but as I got older and was still asked this question, I grew more insecure about it. I was constantly wondering what people thought about me and if my lazy eye made me weird or ugly. I also have partial facial paralysis as a result of a brain surgery I had in 2017. The left side of my face is a little droopier than the right, the feeling on my lips is a little less, and I cannot feel my chin at all. Ok, I know my chin is there, but when I touch it, it feels numb. I hardly notice it anymore, but that means when I have food on my chin or at the corner of my mouth, I usually don’t notice. This has resulted in really awkward lunches and one too many embarrassing dates. (Now I just always make sure I have a napkin and my front camera handy whenever I eat!) In Psalms 139 it says “[14] I thank you, God, for making me so mysteriously complex! Everything you do is marvelously breathtaking. It simply amazes me to think about it! How thoroughly you know me, Lord! [15] You even formed every bone in my body when you created me in the secret place, carefully, skillfully shaping me from nothing to something. [16] You saw who you created me to be before I became me!” This is something I’m always continually fighting to believe. It’s crazy to think that God made me exactly the way he wanted to, and that he didn’t make a mistake. I am not a mistake. Society’s standard of beauty may be one thing, but God’s standard is being yourself. |
ABOUT MEGrace Avila is a passionate writer, editor, and boba lover amongst other things. In her free time, she likes to read, write, and hang out with her service dog Charlie! ArchivesCategories |