Years ago I blamed deafness rather than accept responsibility for it. Many times I said, “You get the phone. I can’t hear” or “Go without me to that meeting! I can’t hear.” Substitute can’t for I won’t take responsibility and it paints a truer picture of what was going on. I was soaking in a tub of self-pity, playing the sick role, and making all sorts of secondary gains that encouraged me to stay the victim of late-deafness. “I can’t hear” really meant I won’t obtain a phone that would allow me to communicate and I won’t assert my rights and ask for the communication assistance to attend a meeting. I chose not to choose. Instead of creating my destiny I was creating a problem. And that is exactly how my loved one’s referred to my hearing: “Lois has a hearing problem.”
I sure did. The problem was I was too much into blaming deafness. Somehow I misunderstood that not being responsible for becoming deaf meant that I was not responsible for how I responded to deafness. I found it more comfortable to hide feelings behind a language of avoidance rather than use a language of self-awareness. I did not want to recognize that I can’t really meant that I won’t.
So I chose to use words that kept me a victim. Like in the statement “I want to work but I can’t communicate in the business world.” The use of “but” denied the power I had to tap into my inner strength to find the ways to develop new abilities so that I will be able to work. “But” language set me up for failure before I even gave it a try.
I try to be very aware of the words I use and whether they have a positive or negative effect on my growth. If someone now said “Lois has a hearing problem” the hair on the back of my neck would stand up! A far cry from before when my shoulders would sag and I would shake my head in agreement “Yep, I sure do”. But not now! I have taken responsibility for late-deafness and I am proud of that.
After giving a presentation on late-deafness, one woman who has a progressive hearing loss approached me to comment on my acceptance of deafness. She said “You really have your act together, I wish I did too.”
Although it was a nice compliment to receive, it kind of troubles me that another person is thinking “what’s wrong with me?” It is hard enough to accept late-deafness without adding to the pain by making comparisons on where another person is in the journey to accept deafness.
I don’t think this woman would have thought this about me years ago if she could have seen my daily routine 
I believe that we, who find ourselves deafened, are all on the journey to accept late-deafness and we are all at different stages. I continue to struggle with late-deafened issues at least once a week. Whereas before it was one continuous struggle day in day out, now a new hurt will last a few hours before I am able to pick myself up and bounce back. What usually brings me out of the pain and able to get back on track is a reminder of hard it was for me to regain my self-esteem. I ask myself “ Do I really want to give permission for this new hurt to damage the esteem that I carefully put back together piece by piece?” The answer is always no, because I never ever want to lose again something that I fought to regain and therefore is so precious to me.
The memory I shared with you still has the power to reduce me to tears, probably because I choose to hang on to the memory and give it power. It motivates me to live and to enjoy every precious moment.
(A reprint of an article I wrote 20 years ago, when I was the founding President of ALDA-Suncoast of Florida, a support group for people who have become deaf. The article appeared in the newsletter, ALDA-Sun. At the time, I was going back to school to change professions from being a foreign language teacher to becoming a mental health counselor.)