Hearing loss doesn’t sound like silence. It sounds like muffled, missed, and maddening. That’s how it crept into my life—not with a sudden shock, but with a slow, quiet shift that made me turn up the TV a little louder and ask “What?” more often.
I didn’t realize how much I was struggling until I found myself getting frustrated, constantly asking people to repeat themselves, and avoiding the very conversations I used to love. That wasn’t me at all.
Why am I sharing this? This is about the true, hidden cost of pretending you don’t have a problem ~ of emotional isolation and the constant struggle just to feel present. Your hearing health is a critical pillar of your mental health and relationships. It’s the silent gateway to staying connected to the world and the people you love.
By the way, quick tip: “Can you repeat that please?” gets a much better response than “What?!!” Trust me on this one. 😉
The Symptoms I Couldn’t Ignore
Over the past years, something changed. My hearing was diminishing and I was checking off every typical symptom of hearing loss:
- Difficulty understanding everyday conversation
- Feeling like I could hear but not understand
- Having to turn up the TV or radio
- Asking others to repeat themselves constantly
- Increased difficulty in noisy places like restaurants or family gatherings
- Tinnitus—ringing and buzzing sounds in my ears
The worst part? I could hear sounds, but I couldn’t tell where they were coming from. And that made me a little crabby.
My hearing loss journey started after an unexpected diagnosis in 2009—a rare primary brain tumor called a vestibular schwannoma (aka acoustic neuroma). After CyberKnife treatment, the tumor shrank about 25% and is basically “dead” now.
The Decision That Changed Everything
Another hearing test confirmed it: my left ear was worse (same side as the brain tumor). The audiologist recommended trying a hearing aid—no guarantees it would help my particular situation. I took the plunge anyway.
Warning: This shit is expensive. Insurance covered the test, but the hearing aid itself was out-of-pocket. Now I understand why fewer than 20% of people with hearing loss actually seek treatment. The cost is a real barrier.
The hearing aid was gradually ramped up over three visits to match the audio level of my right ear. You can’t just blast sound into your brain all at once because it needs time to adjust. At first, I thought I was yelling. My family assured me I wasn’t. I just wasn’t used to hearing myself properly anymore.
The hearing aid was worth the investment. Actually, the gift of hearing is priceless.
It wasn’t just about hearing better. I was able to show up fully in my life again. Like dancing at a Lenny Kravitz concert wearing bright orange Home Depot earplugs (to protect what hearing I have left) without caring what anyone thought.
When you have hearing loss, you learn quickly how precious connection is. Every conversation matters. Every laugh, every song, every moment of genuine human connection becomes something you consciously choose to protect.
The World Health Organization has identified hearing loss as one of the world’s major health problems. And yet, hearing assessments aren’t part of most people’s regular health routines.
Your Hearing Health Checklist
- Get tested. A hearing assessment should be as routine as your eye exam or dental cleaning.
- Protect what you have. Wear earplugs at concerts, sporting events—anywhere with sustained loud noise. Yes, even if they’re bright orange from Home Depot.
- Try meditation or mindfulness practices. Research shows it reduces stress hormones that can damage delicate inner-ear structures, improves blood flow, and may help with tinnitus. You don’t have to sit cross-legged for hours. One of my favorite ways to be mindful is walking in the woods, completely unplugged—no music, no audiobooks. Just me, my breath, and the sounds of nature around me. Learn more here
- Speak up about your needs. Ask people to repeat themselves politely and directly. There’s no shame in asking for what you need.
- Don’t wait. Hearing aids are expensive and there’s stigma—but the cost of isolation, frustration, and missing out on life? That’s higher.
Showing Up fully
Living with a brain tumor diagnosis has taught me that life doesn’t wait for perfect conditions. The hearing loss isn’t a battle; it’s a fact of life.
Learn to live with your limitations. They don’t define you, they simply make you real. What defines me is how I choose to show up:
- With orange earplugs and gratitude
- With curiosity and health advocacy
- With love for the sounds that make life rich (music, laughter, conversations) and the silence when it’s needed
Your hearing matters more than you might realize. And the present moment—this one, right now—is worth hearing clearly.
Don’t wait until you’re missing what matters most.
Thank you for listening!
Brigitte
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