Misinterpreting

Misinterpreting

I haven’t had a chance to talk about Chloe, my retired service dog, much lately. The sweet ol’ lady has been retired full-time since May 2015. Chloe has not had a good year. Being together 9 1/2 years, means she was pretty set in her ways as to being with Denise 24/7. So if you take a loyal, hard-working hound dog who has done the same thing for almost a decade, retire her, bring a new dog into the pack who is now Denise’s partner, move to a new house, and have only a few things to do around the house for hearing alerts, a dog can just go a little nuts… which is what Chloe has done. Chloe is on arthritis medicine, which helps her arthritis a great deal. Being able to get around more comfortably means she is looking for stuff to do around the house. Chloe has developed an anxiety disorder, which could be the result of a number of things including age. She obsesses over things she decides is her job and continues until collapse.

We moved into a wonderful, older home, with NO STEPS! I fall once a week now instead of 2-3 times a day. Even for our two older dogs, Chloe and family dog, Tyco, the fact that we have no stairs is a plus as well! Our older home makes noises that our other home did not. We have an older HVAC system, gas heat and stove, a wood-pellet stove, and older wood floors. Chloe, retired hearing dog, believes every new sound she hears now is her JOB. So she will stand over heating vents and guard because there are strange noises coming from them. (We have checked for critter invasion, had the home inspected, etc., and this is truly just mechanical noises. The other dogs ignore the sounds completely). Chloe will stand “working” until her legs shake and she collapses. We were having trouble getting her to eat. A major vet appointment that included blood-work, scans, and over-all senior check-up, revealed nothing that would make us worry that this is anything other than an anxiety disorder. Chloe is OCD. She misinterprets what she is hearing and together with her other keen senses (like smell), seeks out the origin of the strange sound and does a perfect hunting dog “point”,  standing guard until she collapses.

Chloe is on meds and is doing better. She still guards shadows and obsesses over household noises. We are making it a priority for her to get out of the house more and “do things for mom and dad”. My husband and I discuss hound dog a great deal. She really means a lot to both of us. We know and understand the difficult changes she has had to shoulder, but also understand that she is hearing things well (she is a DOG and was trained as a hearing assistance dog)… only Chloe is misinterpreting what she hears.

The sounds are not important – but Chloe is escalating the sounds as a priority.

The sounds are harmless – but Chloe considers some of them a threat.

The sounds are minor “blips on the radar” – but Chloe equates them with cardiac arrest.

Misinterpreting

Have you ever completely misunderstood what someone said or misunderstood the behavior of someone?

WHAT? You mean you always assume correctly? Ok. Well you can quit reading. The rest of you feel free to continue…

As a person with hearing loss, I often misunderstand what people say. I work hard to consider the context, facial expression, and body language of someone speaking and I still BLOW IT sometimes.

Someone can yawn and cover their mouth and I will completely lose track of what they were saying.

My cochlear implant can pick up some random, ambient noise and I will miss what someone said.

I’ve even stood in the sunshine with someone while they squinted and wrinkled their eyebrows at the bright light, and missed that they were being sarcastic about something because their face looked MEAN.

I use email a great deal. If I have my phone out, it is to TEXT, not to talk earlobe to earlobe with someone. Because I do a great deal of writing, when I am misunderstood or misinterpreted in an email, it really hurts. I work hard at making what I write sound like what I SAY. That’s why y’all have to muddle through my exclamations and grammatical errors that emphasize how I would SPEAK something. (So thanks for that – <wink>).

Basically in misinterpreting… there are two scenarios. Either WE are being misinterpreted, or we are the one over-reacting and obsessing over unimportant cues. So what’s a person to do?

  1. You are being misinterpreted.

If you are being constantly misinterpreted, is it your problem or their problem? Really the responsibility goes both ways. If you are constantly being misunderstood, however, take a good hard look at the who, what, when and where.

Who: Do the same people always misunderstand? Maybe they are extra sensitive. Maybe they haven’t learned to see past the obvious to what you really meant. Are you sarcastic? Do you know some people just don’t GET sarcasm? They don’t appreciate it, don’t use it, and are constantly hurt by it.

My husband, son, and daughter speak fluent sarcasm. As a person with hearing loss, I had come to count on what I SAW when communicating. I finally had to explain, “Look y’all! Give me a smirk, eye roll, or something! If you don’t, you are gonna get smacked up ‘side the head!” I just don’t connect with sarcasm.

What is being misunderstood? Is it a subject others are passionate about? Is it a subject that is highly debated? (Is it an election year? <groan>) Are you being clear?

When are you being misunderstood? Is everyone tired? Are you being misinterpreted when everyone is rushed? Late?

Where are you being misunderstood? A friend told me once that she has learned not to talk about serious things during happy hour at a local bar. <grin>

Figuring these things out can be helpful and allow you to determine how you can be misinterpreted LESS.

2. You misinterpret others.

Especially because one of my “differently-abled” quirks is hearing loss, if I misunderstand someone I become rude. Not rude-rude, but interrupting rude. I stop whomever is speaking and ask for clarification. I may say:

A) I’m sorry, could you repeat that?

B) Excuse me… I thought I heard you say…     …  could you repeat that part?

These “rude” but necessary interruptions help me misunderstand and misinterpret LESS. If I wait to ask for clarification I may forget (but stay mad), or the person themselves may forget what they said.

What about if you are angered or hurt by something that someone WROTE? I still ask for clarification. Maybe even though I am searching the context or doing my best to “read between the lines”, I’m still missing something. There is nothing wrong with responding (better done in a private manner and not in a public venue) and asking for clarification. I don’t know about you, but I’ve written things before that were taken wrong and it wasn’t until someone asked for clarification that I realized how harsh something I wrote seemed to the people who were reading it.

texting

Sometimes? Sometimes people are just going to try really hard to misunderstand what you wrote too. It happens. I’ve learned to pick my battles. You cannot always expect someone to look for the best in you. Some folks look for the bad. Just drop it and go on.

being misunderstood

Change really isn’t hard

One of my offspring is a debater. The kid can argue the paint off a wall. It use to really bother me, but I never wanted to say “shut up, already”! I never wanted to act as if their opinion held no merit. I had to learn to LISTEN. Do you know my kid actually has a lot of really wonderful ideas, points, and opinions about the world? I drove him to lunch the other day and because we were each other’s “captive audience”, I got him all to myself for 20 minutes. My kid is more informed about politics than I am. If I LISTEN I have discovered he has a lot to say.

I use to misinterpret what he said all the time. I had to change. I couldn’t take sound bite snippets and judge him for being a ninny-hammer based on one comment. I had to learn to listen “in context” and wait until he had finished speaking before agreeing, or agreeing to disagree.

Some of you may be thinking… “why should *I* have to change the way I communicate?” Communication is the glue that holds all relationships together. No one communicates perfectly. We can all brush up on better communication skills.

Last week I was asking some questions about a video we watched and trying to get the students to “think like a scientist”. I saw a student grimace and shake their head. I stopped and said, “It’s fine if you don’t agree! I welcome everyone’s opinion and think it is important to express various views! Do you have another opinion about what we saw?”

They looked startled for a minute and sheepishly admitted, “No. I was making a face because someone farted”.

Oh.

You aren’t always going to understand perfectly. You are going to misunderstand facial expressions and other nonverbal cues. You, yourself, are going to contradict what you are saying by how you look or how you are saying it once in awhile.

My encouragement to all of us is simply to work harder. We can all learn to communicate clearly, hopefully creating less chance of being misunderstood. Communication matters because people matter. If you are a person with a disability or chronic illness, work hard at communicating your needs – and what you don’t need. It is much easier to “do your part” and then walk away in the face of persistent misunderstanding, than it is to share the blame for not having tried at all.

Denise Portis

© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

 

See — Look — Watch

here's looking at you

Last week I was in a different building with Milo, my new service dog. Early on, he was not a big fan of elevators. When you are a service dog trained to help mitigate mobility and balance issues, this is a serious thing. His trainer worked very hard with him to get him over his fear of “the moving box”. He now enters elevators with a tail wag and is confident and alert. Unless…

… he enters a new elevator. I forget to take things a little slower when we get into a brand new elevator. To Milo, “different” is not good, and should be approached with extreme caution. I suppose that is why when I entered the library elevator on campus, and Milo immediately dropped to the floor trembling, I was taken by surprise. I spoke to him with confidence and calm tones, and he was eventually standing by the time we reached the correct floor. Some students on the elevator with me said, “You are doing such a good job training him! I could never do that though… train a dog only to have to give it up after training”.

The elevator door was opening and everyone was filing out. I didn’t take the time to set the students straight because it wasn’t really important. However, as I walked around trying to find the study room my students were meeting in, I was thinking, “Didn’t they see my cane? Can my bling be any more noticeable? There isn’t any way I can make my invisible conditions any more visible. AAARGH!”

… and yeah. I think in pirate-speak at times.

I have to remind myself that we are all guilty of only SEEING sometimes. We forget to LOOK instead. Worse, we often do not take the time to WATCH.

See — Look — Watch

see-look-watch

So often we go throughout our day only SEEING. I’m guilty of this. I believe SEEING people is the equivalent of saying, “How are you today?” with the expectation of hearing the response, “I’m fine, how are you?” SEEING is going through the motions with our eyes. SEEING is inactive. We SEE, but we are not doing so with deliberation. We are not concentrating. The students in the elevator were seeing me, but they were not looking. Well… that isn’t altogether fair as they were likely LOOKING at Milo, but only seeing me.

LOOKING means you deliberately concentrate… you notice. LOOKING is active. I suppose it is a little bit like being in “search mode”. When we are LOOKING, we ignore distractions, and recognize more than the superficial “window dressing”. My friends Deb and Ruth are photographers. I’m trying to learn to LOOK when taking pictures and not just seeing something pretty.

I love teaching. However, everything I really love about teaching has little to do with the subject I teach. I love teaching because I really feel like I’m making a difference. Somewhere along the line I learned to LOOK at my students instead of SEEING my students. Perhaps I had good role models. Perhaps it is because I have felt invisible myself. Do you know in my head I say, “Here’s LOOKING at you, kid”… with my best Bogart impression? I don’t just SEE you. I’m LOOKING at you.

I remember reading Blume’s book, “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” as a kid. I can’t tell you the number of times I have asked God this same thing… only I insert Denise. There have been times I have been angry and added some things like, “Do You even CARE? Do you really see me?” I don’t always deal with my “new normal” in a positive way. I struggle with depression. I get angry–even at God. I need constant reminders that He looks at me. He is watching me; that He does care.

My husband hasn’t been looking at me lately. I don’t mean this as a slam, and I’m not telling you something that I haven’t shared with him. He signed me up to go to a banquet/game night/workshop for Valentine’s day at our church. Many couples and singles will be there. I don’t go to things like this… at least not with people who do not understand disabilities. Three weeks ago I told him I wasn’t going… that he shouldn’t have signed me up. He asked me (nicely) to go… “I rarely ask you step outside your comfort zone“. We argued. I pleaded. Two weeks ago we repeated the conversation. One week ago we practiced redundancy. Yesterday, I said I would go, but I told him, “You aren’t looking at me. You see me, but you aren’t looking at me. If you were, you’d know that I’m suffering from panic attacks. If you were, you’d recognize the sleep walking I’ve been doing as anxiety“. Sometimes we see right through the people we love the most. We aren’t looking at them. (Because I recognize that being a chicken can isolate me from others, I’m trying to find my courage…)

Please know that I understand we cannot have our LOOKING eyes on all the time. That level of concentration is impossible to do during every waking hour. However, I do believe that we can do more LOOKING than SEEING.

Yes. It takes a little more time and perhaps more effort.

No. We don’t burn calories for our trouble (darn it!)

Do you ever WATCH others? It goes beyond looking and does take the sacrifice of time. In a world of “time is money”, few people perceive that they can afford to take the time to WATCH. I believe we cannot afford not to take the time to do some WATCHING. Our very soul depends on it.

WATCHING changes you. WATCHING often changes the world. It is only that level of concentration and taking precious, valuable moments to study what your eyes see, that any connection is made to your heart–where all change is born.

See — Look — Watch

Be deliberate in how you exercise your eye muscles.

Denise Portis

© 2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Cowlicks and Compromise

cowlick

Cowlicks and Compromise

I have a cowlick. I remember the first time I noticed the little tuft of hair—likely no more than 20 hairs total, in my bangs. I was at my grandmother’s house who lived on the farm 1.5 miles west of our own farm. I was washing my hands at the sink, and could just barely see my face and head in the mirror above the sink.

<SIGH> “Lookit this hair! It won’t lay down! It points the wrong direction”.

My grandmother informed me that it was a cowlick. Astonished and more than a little bit worried, I gnawed on my lower lip as I contemplated this new information. Demanding to know the “when and where”, Grandma calmly informed that it happened when I was a baby. I remember thinking, “Who would let a cow lick their baby’s head?” Either Grandma was tired of my questions, or she could see that this greatly concerned me. “It’s like a blessing. Even the cows knew you had great potential. You can do ANYTHING!”

I know she thought she was encouraging me, and later it actually WAS the source of encouragement when I recalled her words. However, she likely would have cracked up if she’d known how often I struggled to wash the cow saliva off my head after that.

Dreams, Goals, and Aspirations

I was a lucky little kid. I grew up in a small town, surrounded by really good people and warm, supportive family members. I was always told that I was really going to be something one day… I was going to make a difference. Whether it was the school counselor assisting me with college applications, or individuals in my church, each time it was said I thought, “This cowlick is coming in handy!”

Obviously, I grew to realize the cowlick had nothing to do with my “can do” attitude, but that seed planted as a youngster, certainly added to my determination. I already had a hearing loss in my left ear as I headed off to college. I would have one more surgery during Christmas break of my Freshman year. I never considered my hearing loss an issue as I had perfect hearing in my right ear.

Compromise

I know that I am a little bit stubborn. It’s not just because I’ve been told that I am, I recognize that it is hard for me to compromise. I’ve learned to compromise, which has only helped my relationships and even my marriage. I think in the beginning I saw compromise as “caving”. Because I was raised to be a strong, independent woman, I didn’t see how compromise could be a valued characteristic. I think compromise is actually misunderstood a great deal; perhaps even, considered a weakness.

My favorite definition of compromise (because there are a lot of them out there depending on the context in which the word is used), is from Chen (2004), when “a person has to give up something less feasible and achievable in order to accomplish career goals and projects that are more practical and obtainable” (p. 17).

After losing the rest of my hearing (ages 25-30), and discovering that what I thought was a natural “clumsiness”, earning the nickname of “Accident Prone Portis”, was actually Meniere’s disease, I learned to compromise simply because I was forced to do so. I learned to use adaptive devices, technology, and even learned to ask for help. I learned that to be realistic, I needed to cross some things off my my “to do” list. There are some things I just cannot do. That’s ok. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up or “settling”. I do get tickled at folks sometimes when they email me to say, “You are so inspirational!”

I’m not.

Huffingpost Post did a terrific piece on this topic. “When we think about inspiration, what inspires us most are ordinary people who have done extraordinary things. We appreciate when someone has the ability and willingness to be selfless, creative, innovative, or just dares to be different” (Green, 2013, para. 1). I’m not this person. I have no more talent, will power—or even COWLICK POWER—than anyone else. I have really good days. I have really bad days. Just this last week I found myself doing a little “soul cleansing” in the shower (the only safe place to bawl my eyes when you have service dogs in the house who cue off your mood).

I was crying because I was mad. Mad, that I’m forced to change the way I do my make-up. (I know… right?). I’ve always thought my best “feature” was my big, brown eyes and dark eye lashes. When my Daddy finally allowed me to wear make-up I learned early on how to highlight what I thought was one of my best features. My husband told me when we were dating that he just loved my eyes and wrote poetry about my peepers.

With progressive illnesses, one discovers that it is just that.

Progressive.

It sucks. Between my poor balance, shaky hands, and neuropathy in my fingers, it is impossible for me to use eye make-up now. I’ve had to change—to compromise HOW to wear and apply make-up of any kind. This… THIS is what reduced me to tears for a solid week! Some of the folks who write me and tell me that I’m “inspirational” also say, “I find that I spend too much time feeling sorry for myself!” Y’all? I’m crying in the shower because I can’t wear eye make-up!

I’m not very hospitable, but one of the great parties I know how to give is a PITY PARTY. I think most people who live with special challenges and illnesses find that they spend an inordinate amount of time feeling sorry for themselves. One quickly learns not to whine out loud because others frown on that. Both God and my husband know that I’m a whiney-baby. Trust me – I get feeling sorry for yourself. If your “differently-abledness” has you feeling sorry for yourself, you aren’t alone.

Weiner, Graham, and Chandler (1982) did some fascinating research on pity, anger, and guilt. Anger and guilt are associated causes perceived as controllable, while uncontrollable causes of negative events trigger self-pity (Weiner, Graham, & Chandler, 1982). I didn’t choose any of the challenges I deal with on a daily basis. You likely didn’t “sign up for” the challenges you face as well! When things happen outside of our control, it is natural to have feelings of self-pity. Charmaz (1983) explains that the medical field tends to “… minimize the broader significance of the suffering experienced by debilitated, chronically ill adults. A fundamental form of that suffering is the loss of self in chronically ill persons who observe their former self-images crumbling away without the simultaneous development of equally valued new ones” (p. 168).

All of us grew up with dreams and aspirations. Some of us read books about having one year goals, five year goals, and ten year goals… working hard to lay the groundwork to make sure the goals were attainable. Instead, life happens. You may feel as if your life has been de-railed as you struggle to stay on track on a journey you had all mapped out.

The key is to compromise – but not give up. You may have to change the way you do things. I threw away all my eye shadow and purchased a magnified mirror and set up a means to steady my hand so that I can at least wear mascara. Other compromises are more worthy of being called “growth”.

Finishing school through distance education instead of doing so through a brick-and-mortar institution.

Using a cane and service dog to avoid running into quite so many walls each and every day.

Asking a student to follow-up with an email because I cannot hear them over the “buzz of sound” after class, and the acknowledgment that if they speak loud enough for me to hear them, everyone will hear.

Letting someone with normal hearing take the minutes of a committee meeting, even though my desire is to take notes.

Sitting on my caboose during the music in church because I cannot stand when the words are on a screen with lights, movement, and flashes. (Remember the good ol’ days when we used hymnals?)

 

Asking a family member to chauffer me around if I have to be out after dark (oncoming headlights trigger vertigo).

Using a cutting board ALWAYS, since not being able to feel your fingertips is dangerous when wielding a sharp knife.

Asking my service dog to fetch clothes out of the dryer so that I can fold them, even though I occasionally have to wipe doggie drool off of clean, dry clothing.

The KICKER compromise that many of us have to learn as a result of our new normal?

Asking for help to do something when we once did it all by ourselves.

When Do You Choose Not to Compromise?

A tough lesson in living a differently-abled life, is learning how to compromise by your own volition and to accept your own reality, and learning when NOT to compromise for others. Having a long-term blog on disability issues, invisible illness and chronic conditions, I have received one type of letter more than any other.

“My _______ (family, spouse, friends, co-workers) want me to stop using ________ (a cane, walker, service dog, assistive listening devices, medication) because it _________ (embarrasses them, makes them uncomfortable, makes me look bad).”

I wish I could reach out and SMACK UP ‘SIDE the HEAD, the folks who are saying this to you. They don’t realize all the compromises you’ve already made in order to successfully navigate your life and accommodate your new normal. (That’s right… you’ve resorted to mascara ONLY).

My friends? Don’t ever compromise… on chosen means of compensating just to make someone else feel better about your challenges. That isn’t compromise. That’s caving to a bully. Compromising by doing something differently in order to continue DOING means you are in control. Buckling to the pressure of someone who doesn’t live what you are living, will only yield bitterness, brokenness, and an unhealthy dependence. Do we need to ask for help sometimes?

Yes.

However, having a means of independence and being asked to give it up to help someone else deal with your issues is detrimental to your mental health and relationships. There are plenty of people who care about me that I have learned to not “talk out loud” around. They misunderstand the reason I’m belly-aching and offer selfish advice.

“You get so mad when people interact with your service dog. Why don’t you stop using one and find some other means to cope with your disabilities?”

This from a peripheral family member who:

  1. Is never around for me to ask THEM for help because they are in absentia nor have any meaningful intersection in my life.
  2. Is able-bodied (though mean spirited)
  3. Hates dogs

If using a service dog has enabled you to be more independent, then:

  1. Be more careful of whom you belly-ache too. Contact a fellow SD partner or a trainer.
  2. Find a way for the “drive by petting” interactions to become a positive advocacy channel.
  3. Join some face-to-face or virtual support groups with individuals who mitigate their disabilities with the partnership of a service dog.

I was recently contacted by the wife of a guy I graduated high school with in 1984. He’s coming up on the BIG 5-0, and she was looking for pictures “from way back” that we had so that she could use them at his birthday party and celebration. I took out some old yearbooks and began flipping through them. My senior yearbook had some great pictures of “all those from the class of ‘84”. In one section, the class voted on and selected one male and one female for specific “categories”. I was selected as “friendliest” and also “most likely to succeed”. (Don’t get any grand ideas… my graduating class boasted of 22 students). I sat there a couple of minutes wondering…

“Am I successful?”

“Did I waste my cowlick?”  

What I find valuable is making a difference, even if in only in one person. I have good days and bad days, but ALL days are lived where I look for and try to make a difference in at least one. It’s an adopted attitude that has really helped me adjust to being a person with invisible disabilities.

never-worry-about-numbers-help-one-person-at-a-time-2

Denise Portis

2016 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Charmaz, K. (1983). Loss of self: a fundamental form of suffering in the chronically ill. Sociology Of Health & Illness, 5(2), 168-195. doi:10.1111/1467-9566.ep10491512

Chen, C. P. (2004). Positive compromise: A new perspective for Career Psychology. Australian Journal of Career Development. 13(2), 17-28.

Greene, R. K. (2013). What is the true meaning of inspiration? Retrieved February 1, 2016, from http://www.huffingtonpost.com/r-kay-green/giving-back_b_3298691.html

Weiner, B., Graham, S., & Chandler, C. (1982). Pity, anger, and guilt: An attributional analysis. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin.  8(2), 226-232.

Hearing Loss Valentines

hloss valentines

I’m reaching out on behalf of Cochlear Americas. We created Valentine’s Day cards for those in the hearing loss community to share with whomever they HEARt this Valentine’s Day. If you think the Hearing Elmo community would be interested in these cards, please feel free to share them!
How to access the Valentine cards: 
  • We have four Valentine’s Day cards that you can download, print, cut out and distribute directly from our Hearing Connections blog.
  • We will also be sharing the cards on our FacebookTwitter and LinkedIn channels. Keep an eye out for them to appear and share them digitally if you’d like.
Ways your community can use the Valentine cards: 
  • Print and distribute them in person or by mail with friends, family or colleagues.
  • Share them on your social channels.
  • If you have children, print for your child to distribute during their school Valentine’s Day party.

Denise Portis

Hearing Elmo