Do you see me in the photo on this page? You do? Are you sure? That’s a relief! I was wondering if I was still there. You see, as a person with hearing loss, there are times when I feel absolutely invisible.
I feel invisible when the telephone rings, or when a small child wishes to speak with me, because both present communication challenges for someone who doesn’t hear well.
I feel invisible in public buildings, when those loudspeaker announcements seem to be talking to everyone but me.
I feel invisible at parties, or in crowded restaurants, when background noise drowns out my ability to have a conversation with someone only inches away.
And I really feel invisible each time I buy a new pair of hearing aids, and have to do so without any support from my insurance company!
Rocky Stone, who founded the Hearing Loss Association of America over 30 years ago, very famously called hearing loss an “invisible condition.” What he meant was, it’s usually difficult or impossible to notice that someone has hearing loss simply by looking at them.
But was my introduction illustrates, there are many factors that make those of us with hearing loss feel invisible. Some of them are beyond our control, but at least one of them is of our own making.
People with hearing loss often make ourselves invisible! We go out of our way to avoid drawing attention to ourselves, blending into the background, withdrawing from activities. We bluff our way through conversations, smiling and nodding agreeingly when we don’t have a clue as to what was actually said. We grow or style our hair in a fashion to hide our hearing aids or cochlear implants.
Why do we do this? Sometimes, we’re merely trying to be normal. Sometimes, the pressures of trying to communicate when one of our senses is pulling a vanishing act are overwhelming. And sometimes, we feel embarrassed by or ashamed of our hearing loss.
I’m guilty of all of the above. I spent years dodging or quitting relationships, activities, and jobs because it was hard for me to hear. If awards were presented for bluffing, my mantel would be buckling under their weight. And a few years ago I grew my hair long to hide my hearing aids. I was ashamed of my hearing loss, ashamed of who I had become. But when I finally came to my senses and decided to get a haircut more becoming a middle-aged man, the 45 minutes I spent in a hairdresser’s chair were the most liberating moments in my life. Samson may have lost his strength after his shearing, but I was empowered by mine. As those stringy, rock star-wannabe locks were clipped and eventually swept off the floor, I realized that there was nothing to be ashamed of to have hearing loss, nothing to be embarrassed by.
I ask each of you with hearing loss to pledge to drop our self-created cloaks of invisibility. Granted, we have communication challenges to face each day, but life is much sweeter when we do our best to participate rather than take the easy route and allow it to pass us by.
We often wish that hearing aids and CIs were as commonly accepted as eyeglasses, that each public meeting room were looped, and that insurance companies would cover the costs of our hearing instruments.
These will remain mere wishes unless we make them happen. And the way to do so is to step up, take ownership of our hearing loss, support each other through fellowship, and make our voices heard. Don’t be ashamed of your hearing loss. Instead, take pride in the fact that you’re taking measures to do something about it!
Only then will we be invisible no more.