I Can Hear

The platform I was given from childhood was a bit wobbly.  By platform,  I mean the skills,  understandings,  and grounded-ness needed to navigate the world successfully.    I have been working for a while now to strengthen that platform,  a basis on which my happy and productive life can continue to emerge and develop.   I have done many things,  over time,  to add rebar where there wasn't much (or any) before.    One place I have recently strengthened is my ability to hear the world around me.

About a year ago I went to get a hearing test.   My family had been telling me that I was saying "what?" an awful lot so I started tuning into the possibility that my hearing was a bit off.     I started to notice that I did say "what?"  more than average and questions I've asked myself like "Why do others learn song lyrics faster than I do?"  might have an answer in my ability to hear at a normal level.

I went to an audiologist friend of mine and she informed me that I had "mild hearing-loss in the mid-range and moderate hearing-loss for high tones."   She told me it was not crucial to get hearing aids but that my life would likely be enhanced if I did.

So a few weeks ago I did.

 Trying out two different kinds of hearing aids,   I can now hear things that were not audible to me before.   Or at least not for a long,  long time.   I had a lot of ear infections when I was a kid,  especially between the ages of 4 and 7.   I probably listened to some loud music when I was in high school….  I am guessing I may have had hearing loss since high school age and have not since been screened for it.   That's pretty amazing to me.   I have had loads of physicals since that time and I don't ever remember a hearing test.

In one way,   I can see that as "water over the dam".   In another way,  I have to ask myself how mild/moderate hearing loss has affected my life over the years.   It's not really a question of IF it has affected my life;  it's HOW.

One way that seems pretty clear:   without the hearing aids,  when I am in a group,  and sometimes one-on-one conversations,     I tend to miss things that people say.   When I do miss something,  I am often shy to ask them to repeat more than a few times,  and so I begin to withdraw subtly from the conversation.   I am not able to track the conversation because I simply am not able to hear everything the person is saying.   

There is part of me which is fairly sociable,  and another part which withdraws.   How much of my withdrawing has been due to my ability to hear?  

I have been thinking about the phenomenon that people who have hearing loss sometimes are perceived by others as being "slow" or a little "dim-witted".   How often has that happened to me just because I was not able to hear all that someone was saying.

My family is already telling me they see a difference in me.

This is a good reminder that my progress in life is not always related to my "overcoming my psychological issues".   Sometimes life can be very much enhanced in other ways.

Hearing aids are not perfect.   They can be a bit a of a pain.   But I can hear a lot more of what's going on around me.   And that makes me feel more confident about my social interactions.

Sounds good to me!

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly,  Ben

Overcoming my Shame

Last week I wrote about what I perceived as being at the root of my shame.   Namely,  that I was often not treated as if I mattered during formative periods of my life.   

Now that I am an adult,   I can see into the lives of the people who made these deep impressions on me and realize that it was not personal.   They were not trying to screw me up and scar me.   They had their own issues and I can try to have compassion for them.   Nevertheless,  a child takes in the messages from those around him,   and he uses those messages to understand his place in the world.    

Here is how I received some of the messages I've been talking about,  and how they relate to my shame.

1)  When I was six,  my dad left my life.   Message from him to me:   "You don't matter to me.   You are not important enough to me to stick around."

2)  During much of my childhood,  my mom was a workaholic,  gone most of the time and stressed out and exhausted when she was with me.    Message from her to me:   "You're not worth spending time with.   I could spend more time with you and care for you but I've got better things to do."

3)  When I was six, my babysitter molested me after school frequently over the course of several months.  Her message to me:   "My sexual urges are far more important than your basic sense of safety and well-being. You're about as valuable as a dildo."

As a child,  I tried to take in these messages and still function in my world.   What made it all the more challenging was that no one was all that aware of my deep suffering.    My mom took me to a psychologist for a few months after my dad left,   so she had some sense of the pain I might be in.   But she was completely oblivious to numbers two and three listed above.   She was oblivious to number three because she simply did not know the abuse had happened.   She was oblivious to number two because she was invested in not learning anything about that one.

So,  I had to deal with all three traumas largely on my own.   What I integrated from these messages built up my shameful self,  my sense of not being good,  or good enough.   Of being less-than.   I integrated into my self-image an underlying sense that I was unworthy and unlovable.   These aspects of my self-image went under the surface while what I projected on the outside was relatively steady and cautiously friendly.   

Over time,  other parts of my life went well enough and I started to receive messages from others that "maybe I was a good person,  maybe I was a worthy person."      I started having friends and developing relationships.   I got into sports.   I did well enough in school.   

The chronic issues were there:    One was that dad lived out of state and rarely communicated with me.   The other was that  mom worked all the time,  had very little time for me,  and did not communicate to me that she was interested in my feelings.

But the traumatic parts of life subsided.   Everyone moves on and development continues.     My shame was a part of me now.   Its key parts were abandonment,  neglect,  and sexual assault.   

When I came into middle school I caught pneumonia and lost twenty-five pounds.   All of a sudden girls started to notice me and I became sexually attractive.    My shame took this up and translated it back to me as:   "Your worth is based on your being sexually desirable to others.  No one would want to be with you for any reason other than to have sex with you."   

By the time I was seventeen I was at the end of my rope.   Life seemed like a confusing,  jumbled and dangerous thing to do.   

Since then,   I have led a path of trying to make healthy choices to the best of my ability.   I have tried to find a way out of my shame.     And I have been very lucky.

Each year I have tried to do good and to become a better person than I was the year before.  And,  since today my life is pretty stable and wonderful in many ways,  I think I have done well.

I have,   thanks to my own efforts and the care and love of my wife and others,  created a space for myself from where I can look at my shame from an objective point of view.   I can try to look at the scope of my shame,   its depth,  its regular influence over my thoughts.   And,  I know that my shame is not me.   I did not do anything to deserve my shame.   I was a kid.   The real me is a beautiful child of God,  just like everyone is.

I see you,  shame,   and I've got your number!

Your comments are welcome.

Warmly,  Ben