Here's a little word of advice when you call me (or anyone for that matter):
Make sure you leave a message that I can understand!!
Ugh.
I hate my phone. I hate talking on the phone. I hate trying to listen to voicemails on my phone. Sometimes I'll get a message that I can understand because the person made sure to recite the phone number with care. Most times, I get "hithisissoandsofromxcompanypleasecallusbackat *rattles off phone numer*" My poor ears can't pick out all the words.
I got a message because I didn't hear my phone (another gripe I have with it. I turn it the volume up and still miss calls). I listen to the message. It's for an interview. Great! I'd love to have the chance to interview for a better job. The problem? The message sounded like this: "Hi, Donna, this is ____ from ______ in Pennfield (at least I think she said Pennfield). I was wondering if you were still looking for employment. If you are, I'd like to set up an interview with you. If you are interested, please call me at 96_4_00."
Ok, crap.
The caller ID and number on the message don't match. What was the company? I have no idea. I've been sending out resumes since January so it could be any of those!
Right about now, I'm cursing both my phone and my hearing. And I have to wait for my sweet husband to get home to listen to the message and see if he can't pull the numbers out for me. And the name. I won't be able to call her back until tomorrow because my darling husband won't be home until almost 7pm. I do not like having to rely on him to get my messages so please, leave a message that I can understand! If you call someone, leave a message as if they were hard of hearing and make sure they can get all of the key information - name, company, and phone number.
*sigh*
Monday, April 9, 2012
Denying who I am
Know how in every teenager's life, there's a phase where they try to be everything they aren't? Where all they want is to fit in with everyone else at school? I went through that like everyone else. Sometimes, I think I went through that phase more than once. I'd have a year or two where I tried to be normal, tried to hide or deny my hearing loss or even said it wasn't as severe as it really is. Then I'd have a year or so where I'd think "Fuck 'em. My hearing aids aren't going away. They're a part of me. If they have a problem with me being deaf, then fuck 'em."
I wish I had embraced that attitude sooner and stuck with it.
Oh well.
When I didn't want to accept my hearing loss, I'd hide my hearing aids from everyone's view, making sure I always wore my hair down and that they covered my ears. No matter how hot it got, I wouldn't pull my hair back. Made for some really bad hair days. If I met someone new, I wouldn't tell them I was deaf. If they commented on my "accent," I'd tell them I grew up in the South. Talk about denial!
Of course, there was no denying it sometimes. My hearing aid battery would start to die and I'd struggle with understanding someone before I finally caved and changed the battery. Or someone would talk to me with their back turned to me, forcing me to ask them to turn around, to tell them I need to see their lips.
*sigh*
Denying my deafness only worked in spurts. The rest of the time, I just didn't want to be known as that deaf girl. I quit speech therapy in middle school. Instead of sitting in the front of the classroom, I sought out the seat towards the back. I told my Mom not to come to the school and lecture my classmates or teachers about my deafness and hearing aids. I was already the outcast. I didn't need Mommy to add to that. I got rude towards people, figuring it'd be better to be known as a bitch than the "deaf girl." Teachers told my parents I had an attitude problem at times.
Whenever I'd give up on denying my deafness, I'd just go about life, keeping to myself, not really talking to people and actively ignoring most people. Sometimes, ignoring my classmates only caused them to mock and taunt me. I'd pull my hair back, not really caring if that cute guy in history noticed my hearing aids. I knew that I didn't have a chance with him so why try to hide them?
Looking back, I think, damn, I was a moody teenager! It's only now, in my 30's, do I feel comfortable in my skin and hearing aid. I figure if someone didn't want to give me a chance because of my hearing loss, then that's their problem, not mine. Sadly, when someone doesn't give me a chance at work, it means I continue to be underemployed and feeling worthless because if I were to bring in a full time paycheck, my husband and I would be able to do the remodeling projects we want to do around the house.
Even today, I still resent my hearing aids despite accepting the fact that they are a part of me and who I am.
I wish I had embraced that attitude sooner and stuck with it.
Oh well.
When I didn't want to accept my hearing loss, I'd hide my hearing aids from everyone's view, making sure I always wore my hair down and that they covered my ears. No matter how hot it got, I wouldn't pull my hair back. Made for some really bad hair days. If I met someone new, I wouldn't tell them I was deaf. If they commented on my "accent," I'd tell them I grew up in the South. Talk about denial!
Of course, there was no denying it sometimes. My hearing aid battery would start to die and I'd struggle with understanding someone before I finally caved and changed the battery. Or someone would talk to me with their back turned to me, forcing me to ask them to turn around, to tell them I need to see their lips.
*sigh*
Denying my deafness only worked in spurts. The rest of the time, I just didn't want to be known as that deaf girl. I quit speech therapy in middle school. Instead of sitting in the front of the classroom, I sought out the seat towards the back. I told my Mom not to come to the school and lecture my classmates or teachers about my deafness and hearing aids. I was already the outcast. I didn't need Mommy to add to that. I got rude towards people, figuring it'd be better to be known as a bitch than the "deaf girl." Teachers told my parents I had an attitude problem at times.
Whenever I'd give up on denying my deafness, I'd just go about life, keeping to myself, not really talking to people and actively ignoring most people. Sometimes, ignoring my classmates only caused them to mock and taunt me. I'd pull my hair back, not really caring if that cute guy in history noticed my hearing aids. I knew that I didn't have a chance with him so why try to hide them?
Looking back, I think, damn, I was a moody teenager! It's only now, in my 30's, do I feel comfortable in my skin and hearing aid. I figure if someone didn't want to give me a chance because of my hearing loss, then that's their problem, not mine. Sadly, when someone doesn't give me a chance at work, it means I continue to be underemployed and feeling worthless because if I were to bring in a full time paycheck, my husband and I would be able to do the remodeling projects we want to do around the house.
Even today, I still resent my hearing aids despite accepting the fact that they are a part of me and who I am.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Silence is bliss...
... except when that's all you ever hear.
Without my hearing aid, I cannot hear anything except for the loudest noises.
For my exes, it meant I didn't complain about their snoring at night. I have heard them snore before. One was loud, the other was just annoying. I'm glad I wasn't able to hear them.
But it also meant I didn't hear my son when he got sick in the middle of the night. Or when he had a nightmare. Or when my other son wet the bed and was upset about it. I didn't hear them crying. When they physically woke me up, mommy guilt laid heavily on me. Now that they're older, I hope they understand why I didn't hear them but when they were 5 and 6 and I was living alone, I don't know if they truly understood why Mom wasn't there right away.
Sure, I could've slept with my hearing aid on. Except that I'm not used to hearing noises while I sleep so every little thunk that I picked up kept me up. And if I rolled over and laid on my right side, the hearing aid produced feedback when pressed up against the pillow. That's annoying. Then add in the horrible ear infections I got when they were babies and I just could NOT not sleep without it in. I can get by on little sleep but not broken sleep.
So I did my best. I told my boys if they needed me, do not hesitate to come get me. I'll get up and be there for them in a heartbeat. But each time I get woken up by one of them, I still feel incredibly guilty for not being able to hear them when they need me.
Thankfully, today, my husband is understanding and will wake me if he hears either one. And as much as it pains me, I'm grateful that they're getting older and less likely to wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare or being sick.
And this time, he's not a snorer so there's no snoring to block out.
Without my hearing aid, I cannot hear anything except for the loudest noises.
For my exes, it meant I didn't complain about their snoring at night. I have heard them snore before. One was loud, the other was just annoying. I'm glad I wasn't able to hear them.
But it also meant I didn't hear my son when he got sick in the middle of the night. Or when he had a nightmare. Or when my other son wet the bed and was upset about it. I didn't hear them crying. When they physically woke me up, mommy guilt laid heavily on me. Now that they're older, I hope they understand why I didn't hear them but when they were 5 and 6 and I was living alone, I don't know if they truly understood why Mom wasn't there right away.
Sure, I could've slept with my hearing aid on. Except that I'm not used to hearing noises while I sleep so every little thunk that I picked up kept me up. And if I rolled over and laid on my right side, the hearing aid produced feedback when pressed up against the pillow. That's annoying. Then add in the horrible ear infections I got when they were babies and I just could NOT not sleep without it in. I can get by on little sleep but not broken sleep.
So I did my best. I told my boys if they needed me, do not hesitate to come get me. I'll get up and be there for them in a heartbeat. But each time I get woken up by one of them, I still feel incredibly guilty for not being able to hear them when they need me.
Thankfully, today, my husband is understanding and will wake me if he hears either one. And as much as it pains me, I'm grateful that they're getting older and less likely to wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare or being sick.
And this time, he's not a snorer so there's no snoring to block out.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)