Looking back over the last three years, I’m sorry I expected so much from myself. I remember throughout my first year, I would tell my audiologist that I was disappointed, because I wasn’t able to always catch when someone was speaking directly to me, or I’d miss a sound that other people instantly responded to. I think we all (me, friends, and family) kind of expected me to immediately hear normally (still do)—even if warned differently from the surgeon and audiologist. It’s difficult to understand…after all, you’ve had surgery in order to hear; so, get a move on!
I find my expectations heighten when I feel put on the spot from not hearing a person who I find is standing 3 feet from me with a completely puzzled look on his/her face (which, to me, means: “Didn’t you have surgery for this? Is your implant working? Do you need to turn up the volume or something?”). Oftentimes, I get kind of nervous, clam up, heart palpitates, and by the time I’m emotionally and physically aware of my dilemma, the person has usually repeated themselves, and I STILL have not heard due to being focused on my internal struggle instead of simply…listening.
The calmer I am, the better I hear. The more rested I am, the keener I am to pick up on speech and sounds. The more focused I am on something else, the less focused I am about an incoming sound. I could use a miniature airport ground crew man to signal me of what is coming, and from what direction.
The less I expect from myself, and the less I care of what other people think, the better I am at accepting my limitations. Which, then, forces me into the realm of learning to not care of what other people think…and that’s a whole other ballpark.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Great Expectations
Looking back over the last three years, I’m sorry I expected so much from myself. I remember throughout my first year, I would tell my audiologist that I was disappointed, because I wasn’t able to always catch when someone was speaking directly to me, or I’d miss a sound that other people instantly responded to. I think we all (me, friends, and family) kind of expected me to immediately hear normally (still do)—even if warned differently from the surgeon and audiologist. It’s difficult to understand…after all, you’ve had surgery in order to hear; so, get a move on!
I find my expectations heighten when I feel put on the spot from not hearing a person who I find is standing 3 feet from me with a completely puzzled look on his/her face (which, to me, means: “Didn’t you have surgery for this? Is your implant working? Do you need to turn up the volume or something?”). Oftentimes, I get kind of nervous, clam up, heart palpitates, and by the time I’m emotionally and physically aware of my dilemma, the person has usually repeated themselves, and I STILL have not heard due to being focused on my internal struggle instead of simply…listening.
The calmer I am, the better I hear. The more rested I am, the keener I am to pick up on speech and sounds. The more focused I am on something else, the less focused I am about an incoming sound. I could use a miniature airport ground crew man to signal me of what is coming, and from what direction.
The less I expect from myself, and the less I care of what other people think, the better I am at accepting my limitations. Which, then, forces me into the realm of learning to not care of what other people think…and that’s a whole other ballpark.
