Wishes...do come true sometimes.

It's been over a year since I last posted, and it's been a tough year. A lot of things have happened in the past year or so, some good, some really hard. I've been finding how faithful GOD is in the hard times, and how sweet HIS goodness is in the good times.

I look back at the past post I made, of wanting others to know sign language, longing for others to learn it just so I could feel like family. Feeling so alone and struggling hard to understand. It was a sad and lonely post from a sad and lonely girl.

Tonight, though, was one of the sweetest moments of my life, aside from being saved. Tonight, I felt precious and valued by my church family, like I wasn't just another face in a crowd, but someone they cared about.

My church had a Christmas play that some of the young ladies and the kids put on. It was lovely, with beautiful music, wonderful lyrics, Scripture, and just a lovely evening. I got to sit up in the front row with my Pastor and his wife in some reserved seats. I thought they were reserved for some of the kids to be able to sit down for different parts, or the Pastor's family. Oddly enough, no kids really sat down in the row, aside from one girl, who sat right next to me.

The first song had a little bit of sign language with it. Not fluent sign at all, just simple things that can be taught to a large group of kids who have to learn a LOT of songs. (SO...MANY...SONGS. I'm AMAZED!) I started getting teary, because it was so sweet, but the song was over quickly, so I managed not to bawl.

It was really cute, and I kept waiting for more sign language. Towards the end, I kinda stopped waiting for sign language because I figured they'd just not been able to teach any more signs to the kids on top of all the songs they'd learned. It was still pretty cool!

There were a few songs we had to sing as a congregation, and since I was in the middle of a group, I was stuck holding the lyrics for three other people, and I couldn't sign. Sooo, I had to sing, which I am REALLY not comfortable doing in a large group since, y'know, I'm half Deaf. I think I warbled off key quite a few times. Oh, my poor Pastor and his wife...they were right next to me and had to hear me.

The last song, "Silent Night," we all stood up to sing, and as I looked up, the girl sitting next to me, and three other girls, suddenly moved to the part of the stage that was directly in front of me. And as I watched, all four of them started signing the first verse to "Silent Night" in perfect ASL.

I was...dumbstruck. I cried. I kid you not. I BAWLED. I could not stop crying for the song. These amazing, talented young ladies just blew me away with their kindness in making me feel welcome and a part of our church family.

I felt so valued, so appreciated, so loved, so PRECIOUS! I felt like I was with family. I...I'm still crying right now just thinking of it. I felt like there is a place just for me in my church. I don't have to leave my church if I go fully Deaf. I don't need to rely on an interpreter. I have friends who are learning sign language in my church, and who make me feel like I'm precious to them. Like my wants, my needs, matter.

Ladies and gentlemen, I do not think I could ever find a more amazing church than the one I have.

 Oh, and those reserved seats? The ones up in the front row? They were for me and the other Deaf gal at my church. They were so we could hear better, lip read more clearly, and see the last song signed just for us. They were for us, so we could be a part of it, too.

I wish you knew ASL

Did you ever have something that you wanted so much that it almost hurts? And as much as you want it, you're afraid to hope for it because it will probably never happen? I do.

You all know that I'm culturally Deaf, and physically quite hard of hearing. Because of that, conversations with people are difficult and often stressful. Especially in a crowd, it makes it so difficult. And the louder the crowd gets, the more stressed out I am in conversations, until the point where I can no longer hear what the other people are saying.

Sometimes, I let myself dream of what it'd be like for someone to learn ASL just for me. Just so I don't have to struggle. Sometimes I let myself hope that maybe, one day, I could walk into church and my friends start signing with me, so I don't have to struggle to understand them. And every time I do, I get tears in my eyes, because I don't think that it will ever happen.

People think, because I can talk, that just talking with me includes me. Oh, I wish they knew how much I long to talk with them in ASL! It's so hard to use English when it's loud! People think I cope really well, but they don't know how much I have to let slide, or how much guessing I have to do to carry on a conversation. It's like trying to figure out a code in 5 seconds or less, and every time they speak, I have to figure out a new code, and then respond appropriately. I have gotten very good at the 'smile and nod' response.

 I often wonder how different my relationships would be if I could simply walk up to anyone in church and carry on a conversation. Instead, I have to pick and choose who I talk to based on who I can hear. The group of people in church who I know well is very small, because there are so few people I can hear or speak with easily, and there are very few times where I can speak to them in a quiet environment.

Recently I made the mistake of introducing myself to the Pastor's niece (whose dad is also an elder), thinking she was new to the church, and I wanted to make her feel welcome. Imagine my embarrassment when I realized who she was! And it was entirely because I had never spoken with her because she too quiet for me to hear easily.

 Honestly, I wish everyone knew ASL. But I really wish my friends and family knew it. I miss so much of their lives and of what's important to them, simply because I miss what they're saying.

If someone learned ASL for me, I think I'd cry. You have no idea how much I want that.

Milepost: Officially Having Mild Hearing Loss

I just got back from my audiologist and it's now properly official; I have mild hearing loss on my right side. That's over the space of about 7 years going from normal hearing (actually, a bit better than normal hearing) on my right side, to now having mild hearing loss. So it is confirmed again, I do seem to be slowly, but progressively, going deaf on my right side.

I'm not scared. I expected this. The truth is, losing sound doesn't scare me or grieve me. Sound is unimportant, but people...people you can't replace. And that is why not being able to hear as much sometimes makes me sad, since so many people I love don't sign. It means that relationships where I have to rely on my ears will probably be grow to be more difficult. That is what makes this hard.

It's watching my dad, who can't learn to sign because of his MS, feel like he is going to lose talking with me because one day I might not be able to hear him. It's watching my Mum's rheumatoid and osteoarthritis take its toll on her hands, and realizing that, by the time I need her to sign all the time to me, her hands might be too damaged for her to be able to sign. It's knowing that neither of my grandparents will ever have the ability to sign because of how bad their hands are. It's realizing that the majority of my precious church family, who mean so much to me, don't know ASL, and realizing that it will likely get harder and harder to talk with them, the more my hearing goes. I don't care about sound. Most sound is a nuisance to me. But the people I love...that's where it hurts.

My audiologist told me that if I want to get better help from my hearing aids, I might need to buy new ones. I only got the ones I have 4 years ago, and had the internal parts in them replaced about a year ago. Do hearing aids wear out that fast? I can't afford to buy $3,500+ hearing aids every 4 years. That's EXPENSIVE. And insurance companies only typically help once with hearing aids, and sometimes not even that. And even if they did help, hearing aids don't ever fully fix the problem; they only make things louder, not clearer. No machine can ever replicate the amazing design GOD has put into our ears.

Do I hate my deafness? No. I do like the quiet. It is very peaceful, and it is a refreshing hide away from our crazy, loud, busy world. I go about most of my day with my hearing aids out, and I like it. I do not grieve my deafness then, but I embrace it. It is peaceful. It is how GOD has made me.

But then there are the moments where I'm surrounded by my hearing church family and I can't hear them. And in the crowd of people I love, I feel so lonely because I can't hear, and then I hate my deafness. I hate that more and more I can be talking to someone and I realize I'm seeing their mouth moving, but I literally hear nothing they're saying. And I hate that it's not even scaring me any more, because it's becoming common place. And that is when deafness is so hard, and when I need the most grace from those who love me. Because that's when I am at my lowest.

Isle of hope, Isle of ears...

So, I mishear songs. A LOT! And sometimes, it's hilarious. Though not so much when I mishear hymns. (I regularly accidentally destroy hymns for my mother by saying the misheard words, which makes her laugh.)

However, there was one song that I really liked growing up that the second verse made ABSOLUTELY NO SENSE to me; and it's from "Isle of Hope, Isle of Tears."

Here are the PROPER lyrics;

In a little bag she carried all her past and history
And her dreams for the future in the land of liberty
and courage is the passport
When your old world disappears
But there's no future in the past
When you're 15 years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kinda sad, I know. But lovely song. I tried finding a good version with lyrics posted on youtube, but no luck. Anyhow, my mishearing.

My mistake was in the first line, "In a little bag she carried all her past and history..." Now, see, I heard it as, "In her little pachydermy she carried all her past and history..." And I always wondered why she had a tiny elephant that held all her things. Was it a tiny elephant purse? Or was it a mini elephant that held her things in it's trunk? It never made sense to me.

What funny lyrics have you misheard?

Never hearing silence

Most people think that Deafness means silence. No sound whatsoever. And that going deaf (physical deafness) means that sound gradually fades out, and that is all there is to it. Most people never talk about tinnitus.

As you know, I was born deaf on one side, and now have lost some hearing on my right side. What I expected was that the more deaf I became, the quieter my world would be. And most of the time that holds true.

However, what is most surprising in all that, is that I have never actually heard complete silence. To me, silence has been everything going quiet with a small, high pitched ringing in the background. My world has gotten quieter, but I still have sound in it, but it's not externally generated. My own ears and nerves are generating sound and it's kind of weird and a bit annoying.

Oh, and by the way, tinnitus isn't always high pitched ringing. Sometimes it is, yes. But sometimes it's a low pitched grinding noise which sounds like you have a base chord on an electric guitar being strummed while you're sitting next to a rock grinding machine. Quiet unpleasant, actually.

Oh, and just because I'm losing some hearing doesn't mean that sound doesn't hurt. Sometimes it means that sound hurts more. Sometimes, the noises that break through the silence hurt because you're not used to those sounds. OR it's because of a phenomenon called "recruitment," which is what happens when one range of sound dies out, and the remaining nerves and cillia from that range are "recruited" to another range that is still working, which makes anything in that range seem louder.

Being Deaf isn't the problem. The problem is the process of your body getting used the the quiet, or how your hearing changes unexpectedly before you go fully deaf. Like having tinnitus or recruitment in different hearing ranges.

Thankfully, I grew up with this, so it doesn't bother me too much. But now I wonder....what does silence sound like?

Fake British Accents and stereotypical boxes

So, have I ever told you that when I'm nervous in a conversation with non-signing strangers, especially when I don't have my hearing aids in, I sometimes I get a random accent? I sometimes sound like I have a fake British accent. Why do I do this? Because I am afraid that, because I can't always hear how I'm pronouncing things, I'm going to pronounce something wrong and they'll make fun of me. So to compensate for this, I OVER enunciate my words, which then sounds a bit British. I also use bigger and more elaborate words, as well.

See, this is what happens when you're half Deaf and you can't just say that you're Deaf, because people will call you a liar, and you can't call yourself hearing because you genuinely can't hear people in many circumstances. You can't be yourself fully, because people try to make you fit into this little box in their heads. "Deaf means you can't hear anything." "Hearing means you're able to hear everything." And I don't accept hard of hearing because it makes me feel like I'm trying really hard to reach the mark of hearing, but I'm failing; which is not the case.

To be honest, I'm just me. I love being half Deaf. It's a quieter world, and I like it. It's part of what makes me me. And I like being half hearing. It connects me to my hearing family, part of which, due to chronic diseases, struggles to learn sign language to communicate with me. And I like music. And I like signing. I like my times of quiet, and sometimes I just like to crank the music up and be loud.

The biggest "problem" with being half Deaf is that people try to put you in a category and then try to define you by that category. And if you stray from the norms of that category, they get mad at you and call you a liar for not fitting into their little box. What if THERE IS NO BOX FOR ME? What if, in order to understand me, you actually have to get to know me?

What if I'm like you? What if I don't want to be defined by your stereotypes any more than you want to be defined by mine? I'm a person, not a label. My life is complex. I will never be able to fit into a box. And honestly, you want to know something? Most people won't fit into a box. Most people are bigger than any box you can come up with.

5 Reasons Why I like Deaf events

I go to Deaf events fairly often. I go to an evening Deaf Bible study, I go to Deaf mall, and a Deaf event at a coffee shop. I work with other Deaf in a school program, subbing for paraeducators with the Deaf and Hard of Hearing. And that's on top of having an ASL class two nights a week, and volunteering as voice cop, sometimes. There are weeks when I use more ASL than I use English.

But Deaf events really stand out as one of the highlights of my week. And here's why:

1. Everyone signs.
They're Deaf, it's kind of a "duh" in this case. However, hearing people don't really get how important that is for someone who is Deaf, Half Deaf, or Hard of Hearing. To most hearing people, it's just another social event, but for us? It's so much more than that.

Being Deaf, Half Deaf, or Hard of Hearing, in most conversations we have, we rely heavily on trying to figure out what a person's lips are saying, combining that with whatever body language they're using, and whatever hearing we do still have. It makes your average conversation a very tense and stressful situation, because I could be nodding my head and smiling to you saying your Dad got in a car accident; which is the exact opposite reaction I should be having. Not only that, but most social events involve groups, and once you have more than two people in a conversation, the whole conversation just disappears into the crowd. 

At a Deaf event, you don't have to hear. In fact, most don't if you go to a Deaf den. Instead of relying on our hearing, or lack thereof, we rely on our vision, which in most cases, is really good. Deaf tend to have very good vision and typically better than average peripheral vision. There are, of course exceptions. But to be in a conversation where we get to use our strongest sense is such a relief.

2. They get us.

When I tell a normal hearing person about how hard it is to talk with another person in English, or about the dumb things hearing people sometimes do or say to me, they don't get it. They just don't. They don't get why it's so frustrating to have someone ask if you're really Deaf. They don't get how it feels to be continuously left out because you can't hear, or how insulting it is to be told that it's rude to sign when other people can't understand you. I tell your average hearing person, and they just ask me why I don't get a CI to fix it; which brings a whole host of problems itself. You can see my thoughts on THAT topic HERE.

But, on the flip side, if I tell a Deaf person how frustrating it is to interact with ASL students who want me to entertain them and carry the conversation, they'll get it and sympathize. If I tell them how lonely I feel at a hearing social event, or how I stood up for my right to use sign language, they'll share their own stories of their struggles. 

3. They have ideas for how to deal with situations 

Deaf or Hard of hearing all share one thing in common; we really can't hear, or at least struggle to hear. Which means that in a hearing world, where everyone is saturated in sound, we do have some struggles, mostly those involving interactions with other people. By talking with other Deaf, we can get advice on how to deal with family situations if our family is hearing, on how to deal with rights violations, and other really important topics that most hearing people are ignorant about, because they don't have to deal with it. I have the right to use ASL. I have the right to reasonable accommodation. I can get help from various organizations. And there are Deaf who can give me a better deal on things than hearing, because we share the same community. Which leads me to the next one:

4. Networking and sharing information

Deaf love networking and sharing information about how to get thing done and they're really good at it. In Deaf culture, if you withhold information, and someone else suffers because if it, their suffering is your responsibility, because you didn't tell them what could have helped them. And because of that, they are good at connecting Deaf to other Deaf who are good at certain jobs, like mechanics, or electricians, or different job positions that they know are available. They are also very good at telling you where to get good deals.

To compare hearing and Deaf culture, here's an example: in hearing culture, if someone says to you, "That's a nice shirt you have. I like it!" your typical response is to merely say "thank you," and move on. In Deaf culture, however, they will tell you where they bought it, how much it cost, and if they've since found a better place to buy it, or multiple places to buy it. 

5. We actually get to meet other Deaf

That seems like a no-brainer, but I can tell you, I almost never see other Deaf outside of a Deaf event. I can probably count on one hand the number of times I've seen other Deaf outside of a Deaf event or outside of my job which actively works with Deaf students and Deaf teachers/paraeducators. To put that in context, in the past two years of growing closer to the Deaf community, I've seen Deaf out side of a Deaf event or Deaf social setting less than five times. That's how rare that is. 

Not only that, Deaf don't carry a sign around with them that says, "Hey, I'm Deaf!" No. Even if we meet another Deaf whom we haven't met before, unless we see them using ASL, we could pass them on the street and never know that they were Deaf like us. So we don't even know all the Deaf in our area, UNLESS we meet them first at a Deaf event or in a Deaf social setting. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And there you have it; 5 reasons why I like Deaf events.