Finding Beauty Amongst The Noise

My Journey With Hyperacusis

We’re on our way to see some family members. I’m sitting in the back seat of the car and I’m distracted by this soft yet loud tapping sound. It’s beginning to get louder and it’s beginning to hurt not only my ears, but my head as well. I look frantically all around to identify where this sound is coming from then I lock into my dad. He’s sitting behind the steering wheel, hand on the indicator. Then he removes his hand and places it back on the steering wheel. Pat. That’s the sound. That’s the sound that’s causing me so much pain right now. I close my ears and do my best not to cry because for some terrible reason, I can still hear it loud and clear!At 7 years old, this moment became the beginning of my life long struggle against sound and self. 

As I grew older, more and more sounds began to alert me of their presence and gifted me by inflicting pain and irritation. 

I was now becoming known as the girl who always closes her ears and hates sound. 

It was not only physically and mentally painful, but emotionally painful because no one could understand what was bothering me or knew how to help. How does a 7 year old say that their ears are hurting because of normal every day sounds?

The amount of unavoidable arguments that took place over the years because of my cries for help that were mistaken for personal attacks from those who couldn’t understand were very upsetting. This led me to begin flirting with the idea of becoming deaf and going on the pursuit for hearing aids that blocked sound instead of enabled it. This idea however was short lived due to this one discovery: 

For years I used to close my ears as often as possible or keep my headphones on as long as the battery on my phone lived (this was pre-bluetooth headphone days…. eek, showing my age a little here). This conditioning led to the unavoidable development of misophonia to certain sounds. Even seeing someone make an action related to a specific sound would send me spiraling. Not only did I develop misophonia, but I also became hyper aware of vibrations so even if I couldn’t hear, the vibration that came along with the sound would trigger that sound in my memory, which in turn would inflict pain and irritation. This discovery answered the question of would I be better off being deaf or not.

Hyperacusis has so many different affects for everyone who has it and there are many different levels of irritation. It depends on the frequency of a sound as well as its repetition. In worse cases some flare ups (as I call them) feel like someone is pouring fire down your ear and spine. I’ve experienced this more times than I can count and the only emotion I can recall from those experiences are anger and sadness. 

Over the years I’ve been able to come up with a few ways to calm myself down as I have these attacks, but the bottom line is that this will be with me for the rest of my life. I’ve come to terms with that fact though.

Now, I have a better idea when my ears are in a more sensitive period and when my flare ups will be worse. Before I could barely survive each day but now, it’s more manageable (or I’ve just accepted defeat). 

I have learned a few things from my hyperacusis though, some of which are:

There’s beauty even in pain.

I recently read the unexpected grief of being deaf by Meghan Bay and it made me think about my own situation. I have the similar feelings as Meghan though I’m on the opposite end of the hearing spectrum. Wanting to be able to experience life “normally” but also coming to terms with and accepting that our interactions will have to be different and how that opens doors of opportunity.

Being able to experience things on a deeper level in certain aspects, relying on senses that would otherwise go somewhat ignored. For example, I don’t know when I would have allowed myself to sit still in silence and learn to identify movement and sounds solely from the vibrations they produce that I can feel around me.

Not all sounds are ugly.

I’ve been collecting and archiving sounds that I find particularly soothing and beautiful in my mind; ones that I want to revisit someday or when I want to replace something that I don’t like. I hope that if in the event I did lose my hearing, I would be able to recall the sounds I can remember that I once loved to indulge and activate them at will.

Be patient with everyone including myself and extend grace.

When I was at a loss for words of how to express myself, I know I lashed out especially in the moments of pain which in turn was met with unhappy responses. This of course didn’t provide me with the help or understanding that I sought.

Now I know to explain to others that I’m not upset with them or the source of the sound, but with the pain and irritation that it’s causing me.

I’ve also become a lot kinder with myself. I’m a highly sensitive person which was a fact that I didn’t know until I had reached my adult years, let alone understood to any helpful degree. Mix HSP with hyperacusis and it’s a recipe for severe over stimulation.

I’ve had to find and make several methods to calm and self soothe as well as find some ways to divert attention from what’s bothering me to something better.

Yes, I will still be in pain, but I know I will get through it and that it’s not permanent.

Writing for release.

Writing surprisingly has helped me a lot too. It’s helped me to express myself and have a space to understand myself.

It helps me be present as well as let my emotions out in a healthy way.

Writing as well as reading is a way for me to be able to hear without needing sound.

Sound is neutral.

The main takeaway though is that sound is not the enemy. I have a hearing condition which makes me not like what my ears are mainly for, but that doesn’t make anything bad per say. I’m just learning even still, to find the beauty amongst the noise.

✨ Nadine