support groups – Hearing Elmo

Why I Rarely Vent (in Person)

Published on August 14, 2015August 14, 2015 by hearingelmo4 Comments

My head is gonna explode. There's a reason I don't vent in person... — My head is gonna explode. There’s a reason I don’t vent in person…

Aren’t I brave to post a picture with no make-up on a “horrible, rotten, no-good day”? I decided last minute to stop in at work on Monday to check my mail box. I forget to do it during the summer when I’m not teaching. Anyway, I ran into a person I know fairly well. I almost ran the other direction because I know her well enough that I didn’t want her to see me with no make-up, flip-flops, and blue jeans. However, since SHE had all that going on too… I decided to let her flag me down instead of pretending I didn’t see her. We exchanged the “how’s your summer going?” questions and visited for a few minutes. We’ve served on various committees together and so when she asked me, “So how are you really doing?” I didn’t hesitate to answer truthfully. Silly me, I thought she wanted to know!

“Well, I have had a bad day. I get super tired of falling on rainy days. Ya know? But the weather for the rest of the week looks great” and I beamed my best smile!

She said (I kid you not), “Yeah, I fell this weekend and broke my friggin’ nail. Just look!” (she sticks her finger in my face for easier viewing). “I just got a manicure too!”

Now the first thing that popped into my head wasn’t nice. So I’m not even going to repeat it on here. My second thought, however, was “this is why I’m not honest to people face-to-face“. Besides… if you don’t live with a chronic illness or disability, you just can’t understand what having a bad day for THAT person really means. (I can’t completely understand YOUR bad day either). It’s not their fault. I chose to believe she was trying to commiserate and help in some way. I “ooo’d and aaaah’d” over her broken, manicured nail, getting madder and madder (but doing a fantastic job of hiding it, I might add!)

After due diligence in bemoaning her broken nail, I turned to leave. Since I had been holding her wrist to get a better look at the nail, I dropped my hand (and her hand) as I turned to walk away. It was then she noticed my arm. “Oh my gosh. What did you do to your arm?”

I turned my arm to look at where she was looking and saw a row of purple and blue bruises. “Oh that,” I said breezily, “yeah, I said I fell, right?” Her eyes got really big, and she whooshed out on an astonished breath, “Well, I’m an ASS, aren’t I?”

I giggled. Not at her.

Ok, yes it was AT her, but her self-condemnation and horrified look were truly priceless. I assured her that all was well, working hard to make sure we went our separate ways with friendship and her self-esteem still intact. After all, I didn’t want her to think that *I* thought she was an a**. Even though I did…

Why We Dodge the “HOW ARE YOU?”

On the short drive home I belly-ached out loud to Milo (new Service Dog). One of the great things about service dogs is their non-judgmental, listening ears. When I’m angry, I tend to cry. Not sad tears either. (Hubby has learned to not “there-there” me when he sees tears because chances are he’s in trouble and not that I’m sad and need a shoulder).

Many people with chronic illness and disabilities lie. Not premeditated lying. It’s more of a self-protective omission of the truth. When your NORMAL is not “normal” for people who do not live with significant health challenges, you do not really have symptom-free days. Instead, you learn to appreciate the good days and try super hard not to dwell on the bad days. You don’t ever answer “how are you?” truthfully. (Unless the person who asks lives it too and really gets it). You don’t want to be a negative Nellie; a sour puss; a stick in the mud; __________________ (fill in the blank).

So you dodge the question, or flat out lie. I had a friend tell me that “stating how my day really is going doesn’t make my day better. It only depresses the other person. Since there isn’t anything they can really DO to make it better, I grab FRIENDSHIP by the collar and don’t let go, insisting my day is going very well if only to talk to a friendly face for a few moments longer”.

Don’t get me wrong… we all need some folks we can be honest with and tell it like it is. For me, it is often God because I figure His shoulders are broad enough. Sometimes I need a flesh-and-blood human face to talk, too. This is why I highly recommend support groups. I rely on the people I have come to know at Fidos For Freedom. We couldn’t be any more different. We struggle with completely different kinds of disabilities and challenges, but each one of us understands why we dread the “how are you?” question. Even virtual support (through the medium of the Internet) can be very therapeutic to people with chronic illness and disabilities.

But… I really want to know! I really want to help!

I have a few people in my life (and I hope that you do, too) who I can be honest with when I’m overwhelmed with a “horrible, rotten, no-good day”. They may ask, “how are you really doing?” and I TELL them. The obvious next question is, “Well, what can I do to help?” Ya know? I’ve really wanted to take people up on this before. I mean… sometimes it may be that I need someone to go shopping with me. Milo is terrific, but there are some things he cannot pick up and some things I really wish I hadn’t dropped to start with! (like glass). Shopping is exhausting for me but a necessary chore.

My son has a “temporary disability” as he fell through the ceiling while in the attic and broke his arm. (The full story is much longer, but I’m not going there today). He is really struggling with doing “normal” things because he has one hand. So I asked him, “what can I do to help?”

Laundry. My son asked me to do his laundry! And do you know, I was almost hysterical with JOY? I love to do laundry! I am ABLE to do laundry! I love pre-treating stains, choosing settings on the washer, and piling things in evenly. I love putting wet clothes into the dryer. And… (OMGosh I’m trembling with excitement I can hardly get it out…) I love folding warm clothes from the dryer. I’m getting goosebumps thinking about the neatly folded piles of “like” clothing. It’s a very normal (and for most people), boring task. However, “son” couldn’t do it. *I* could help.

If you are in a position to help someone who lives with chronic illness, doing something rather ordinary — is EXTRAORDINARY for them.

Loading/unloading the dishwasher

Washing the bedding and re-making the bed

Mowing the lawn

Deep-cleaning a bathroom

I know people with various disabilities who do things to help out others with disabilities. That’s how it should be, right? People… just helping PEOPLE.

Concluding full circle here – VENTING

I have some high maintenance friends. And you know something? I love them. I knew in advance they were high maintenance and I chose to be their friend anyway. I also have some friends who “hold their hand close to their chest”. Heck, if I’m really going to see their “hand”, I almost have to yank them towards me and demand “a real reveal”. I’ve had to learn how to “read” them. I very well may MISS IT sometimes – the clues that tell me that all is not well.

Sometimes people just need to vent. They KNOW you can’t do anything to improve their situation. They KNOW they will have better days (so please? Don’t tell them, “the sun will come out tomorrow”?) They may just need a few moments to tell you like it really is. You say, “How are you?” and they decide to open the dam. It may pour out of them. It may be a trickle of water that you have to give additional encouragement to in order to really break down that barrier.

Let them VENT.

… and then what? I don’t recommend patting them on the shoulder and asking if they feel better. What’s the next step?

It’s two years old now, but I love — absolutely LOVE this advice. <Click here for full article> The highlights and three follow-up (recommended) questions to a “Vent-or” are:

What bothers you the most about the situation?
What is making you the most _______________?
(My favorite) What worries you about this?

This is listening done right. They vent. You follow-up with questions that let them know you were actually listening. You can brain-storm with them options that may help them with some of the things that are frustrating them. You may discover through dialoguing with them, a way that you can easily help them beyond providing a listening ear.

Folks who live with disabilities or chronic illness like being able to reciprocate, too. I am on CLOUD NINE that my son needs me to do his laundry for him right now. I love dog-sitting for my daughter’s dog when she needs to go out of town. There are some things I can do. Let me do them. 🙂

I hope you will look at venting a little differently after reading this. Especially if the venting you listen to is from someone who has significant health challenges. One of my dear friends has a seizure disorder as well as other significant health challenges. She often lets me hear how things are really going because she knows I care. I tell her I will be praying, and she knows I mean it. She immediately asks, “so how can I pray for YOU?” and I know she means it. A praying friend can be HUGE. Sometimes you can do more. I hope you will look for those opportunities. Lysa TerKeurst does a great job blogging about this. Please allow me to share her great article with you: “Don’t Say You’ll Pray for Me“.

Denise Portis

Sex and Hearing Loss

Published on December 6, 2010December 6, 2010 by hearingelmo3 Comments

When preparing to write this post, I went back and forth about providing “hard and fast” FACTS about gender differences in hearing loss and writing about personal observations. Because I can easily provide links to documents, research and scholarly articles about the topic, I decided to write about personal observations. Before I do that, let me provide those links!

A wonderful article about gender and race differences can be accessed HERE.

How hormones can have a part in the way hearing loss manifests in individuals can be read about HERE.

An article about why men are more likely to experience hearing loss can be accessed HERE.

An article by ASHA and Cochlear Americas can be accessed HERE.

Personal Observations

I realize that personal observations are somewhat limited by the experiences of the individual themselves. However, as I have had the opportunity to be a part of a number of hearing loss organizations, and have had the privilege of speaking to groups of my peers and professionals across the United States, I have a lot of faith in my own personal observations about gender differences. Sometimes new information was gleaned as the result of attending workshops, conferences and meetings; listening to experts on hearing loss discuss gender differences was very informative. However, I also happen to be a terrific “listener” in spite of my own profound hearing loss. Corresponding with people from across the United States that I may have met in my travels, or are frequently visiting “Hearing Elmo”, I have drawn some conclusions about how hearing loss affects the different sexes. Please allow me to share my observations with you!

Men with Hearing Loss

1. Men are more apt to be pushed into getting help. Perhaps men stay in a stage of denial longer than women do, but men are usually encouraged to do something about their hearing loss as opposed to taking the initiative to doing it themselves. I don’t think it is because they are unable to make decisions about their hearing health; rather, men are more likely to “fake” their way through life pretending they don’t really have a hearing problem. This does not mean that women do not “fake it”, nor does it mean that women are not ever pestered to visit an audiologist. I just believe that men are more likely to be badgered into going to a hearing health professional than women are.

2. Men do not usually seek support from peers until hearing loss has reached a critical point. I believe that men are more likely to “go on about their life” and “making do” after getting that first hearing aid than women are. If assistive technology allows a man to continue working, interacting, and living life, they will be unlikely to join support groups or advocacy groups compared to women with hearing loss. If hearing loss is progressive, men will also begin to seek out information, support, and peers once hearing loss interferes with communication and relationships. On the positive side, men with a stable, mild to moderate level of hearing loss are more likely to not let hearing loss define who they are. Hearing aids and assistive devices are merely tools. I think men may equate support groups with “talking about your feelings”, and as a result miss opportunities such as learning more about advances in technology, discovering legislation that may have an effect on hearing loss populations, and learning valuable communication strategies.

3. At the severe to profound level, men are more likely to shut people out. I can’t tell you the number of times men have told me that they alienated everyone that cared about them when their hearing loss really began to affect their lives. Perhaps it is a coping mechanism? One man wrote to me and shared, “I filed for divorce from my wife of 11 years. I felt in a panic to do it before she filed for divorce from me because I wasn’t the man she married”. One man came up to me after a workshop and said, “It’s easier to be be cranky and belligerent than to discuss with my family how my hearing loss makes me feel”. Still another shared, “I’d rather be accused of being distant than to talk about my hearing loss with her”.

4. Men are less likely to use hearing assistance dogs. Of all the people I know who chose to be partnered with a hearing assistance dog… most are women. Yes – there are some men… but my experience is that they are the minority. I believe if you are partnered with a hearing assistance dog, you have shouldered the responsibility of knowing that by doing so you will be making a potentially invisible disability very visible. Perhaps men are less likely to place their safety and trust in a canine partner? That doesn’t mean they are less likely to like dogs. (On the contrary, I am asked by more men to pet Chloe or field questions about what she does for me). The budding psychology student in me believes that men are more likely to strive to be independent of help from any avenue compared to women. What I find ironic, is that my own hearing assistance dog actually PROVIDES independence to me rather than a new dependent relationship. I think men and women simply view this very visible “assistance” in different ways.

Men in the Supportive Role

I believe men are supportive of those they care about that may have hearing loss. Many husbands attend HLAA, ALDA or AGBell meetings, conferences and conventions in support of someone they care about. However, I have heard women make complaints such as:

“He gets so frustrated that I’m still so SAD about my hearing loss!”

“He is supportive of MY problem, but does not acknowledge it is OUR problem.”

“He doesn’t mind making phone calls for me, but I can tell it frustrates him sometimes”

Women usually welcome a “helping hand” with something as intensely personal as hearing loss. They normally welcome a shared role in learning to live with the acquired disability.

Women with Hearing Loss

1. Women are more likely to “grieve” hearing loss. I think both males and females go through stages of grief when they experience hearing loss. However, I think women tend to get bogged down in depression and experiencing feelings of grief than men do. Perhaps it is because women are usually living more with their “feeler” than men do? I just know that I have heard countless testimonies of women who experienced real grief about their hearing loss. Maybe women are more likely to admit they feel sad about their hearing loss in comparison to men.

2. Women seem to need peer support groups even early in hearing loss. Not all hearing loss is progressive. However, I have been a part of a number of hearing loss support groups and traveled to visit groups across the country. Many hearing loss support groups have women who attend that have a moderate to severe hearing loss. Most of the time, the men I meet who attend these groups have a more significant loss. I think women rely on communication more than men do as a part of what holds their relationships together. When women see a threat to their relationships, they are spurred to action to seek out assistance from their peers. Women tend to flood the workshops on communication tips and will be the attendees who are taking copious notes.

3. Women tend to care about how their hearing loss affects others more than men do. Yikes. I may get “grief” for this one. Fellas? Before you send a barrage of emails to my INBOX, please note that I am not saying men do not care about how hearing loss affects the “others” in their lives. It has been my experience that women seem to be more concerned about how their hearing loss affects others… to a fault. Women can actually become bogged down in worrying about how their hearing loss is changing the lives of those around them. They may worry more about being a burden and how others “feel about them now”. A positive reaction, however, is that women are more likely to actively discover how the “others” in their lives are doing, and in the process adopt or modify communication strategies.

Women in the Supportive Role

I think communication is so important to women, that they may become NAGS to the men in their lives who have hearing loss. It is important to learn “HOW” to encourage the male in your life to seek help. Women may resort to desperate and negative measures if they see that communication has been influenced by hearing loss.

Men may attend support groups with their significant other with hearing loss as an ongoing part of their “protective/provider” role. When the male is the one with hearing loss, however, women should understand that the men in their lives may not necessarily welcome a partnership view of hearing loss. Men (especially at first) may prefer attending support groups alone so that they may continue in what they view as being independent in their role. Women should carefully choose how to discuss that support groups provide them with important information and tools as well as peer support from others who love someone with hearing loss.

As always, I welcome your input and own experiences as they relate to sex and hearing loss!

Now… for all those that saw the title of this post and thought I was going to write about something much different? You have an assignment:

Denise Portis

The “Folly” of Allowing “Deaf” to Define You

Published on September 19, 2008September 19, 2008 by hearingelmo3 Comments

Simba (My parent’s pooch! He’s the smartest little thing and has made a great addition to their retired life in Florida! He’s a Cock-a-Poo, and doesn’t look like ANY canine movie star!)

The Folly of Hollywood’s Influence

I love my mother. Mom is one of my best friends. But being a mom myself now, I can clearly see that my mother was extremely influenced by the canine stars she saw on television as she was growing up. I can make this assumption with a great deal of confidence, based on the fact that she has had two “look-alike” dogs of her own through the years. Prior to retiring to Florida, she talked my Dad into buying a boxer that bore an resemblance to “Pete” on “Little Rascals“. I don’t see the resemblance. After all, it is fairly obvious the circle around his eye was PAINTED on, and Mom’s boxer had no make-up whatsoever! But “Pete” was in black & white! So… who knows?

“Jingles” did not last very long as she was not a well-trained, super-star dog. On the contrary, she was a rather destructive and ill-mannered dog. She found a new home on a new farm with a family who had a little more patience.

Prior to “Jingles”, while I was still living at home on the ranch in Colorado, Mom talked Dad into buying a collie. I guess Mom had a thing for “Lassie“. I didn’t mind at all, as I thoroughly enjoyed watching not only the current “Lassie” series, but never missed a black and white re-run of the episodes Mom watched as a child. Mom may have insisted on a pedigreed collie, but Dad insisted on the name. “Jean’s Folly” was our … erm… COLLIE! We called her “Folly” for short. I wish I had a picture of Folly. She was actually much prettier than Lassie! She was the most beautiful collie I have EVER seen.

Living up to a Name

It turns out that Folly was aptly named. It seemed she was incredibly stupid. At least that is what we thought in the beginning…

In 1982, Folly was accidentally left outside when there were some stray dogs from neighboring ranches running around. These dogs thought Folly was really beautiful too… at least that’s what I told myself because she ended up pregnant. Folly was an outside dog; a different type of working dog than the one I have now. Folly’s job was to keep the on-site livestock safe, keep coyotes from killing our cats, and made sure that snakes stayed out of the yard. We didn’t interact with Folly as much as we should have. Had we done so, we would have noticed that she was pregnant PRIOR to her having puppies. It was at the birth of her puppies that I first began to suspect that Folly wasn’t as dumb as we first thought. It was October, and we had our first snowfall on the ground.

Folly went under our picnic table which was next to the house, pulled out most of her own hair, and had puppies on the cold, hard ground. (Pretty pitiful, huh?) On the insistence of my three siblings and myself, we brought poor Folly and her puppies inside. Their new make-shift quarters were under the rarely-used pool table downstairs in the game room. Folly and the puppies did really well for a couple of weeks.

During those weeks, I had the opportunity to really get to know Folly better. She would look at me with bright, inquisitive eyes, and watched everything I did with intelligence and attentiveness. She loved for me to “visit” her under the table with she and her puppies. (It’s fairly difficult for a teenage girl to fit under a pool table with a large collie and a litter of pups! But I’m talented!) I dutifully took her outside “when nature called”, and brought her back inside so that she could be with her puppies. However, the cold snap lifted and the weather warmed up enough, that my Dad said Folly and her pups had to be moved to the barn.

I fixed one of the rooms in the barn up with plywood and bales of hay. It was cozy and warm. The first couple of days I locked Folly into the barn with the pups. I think part of me was beginning to suspect something about Folly. I started doing “tests” of my own to see if my “feeling” could produce enough evidence to allow me to verbalize my fears.

Not Dumb… Just Deaf

I would sneak up on Folly when she was asleep, and as long as I took the time to move slowly enough that no vibrations were caused by my boots on the ground, I was able to “scare the daylights out of her” 9 out of 10 times! I would watch her looking out over the alfalfa field directly south of our home. She seemed eager to continue her vigilance in keeping the coyotes away. When I was ready to lock her back into the barn, I would call her… nearly screaming her name and she would continue her guard of the yard. I found, however, that if I walked into her line of sight and called her name with a smile and a pat on my thigh… she would come running with the unadulterated joy of a dog when seeing someone in their family.

My conclusion? Folly was deaf. I mentioned it to my dad. Dad is a quiet man who is at first pessimistic of others viewpoints until he acquires enough evidence to conclude that they may be right. He would have made a great debater. At supper several nights later, he announced in a matter-of-fact way that he thought Folly was deaf too. To this day, I have no idea what kinds of “tests” he ran himself to come to that conclusion.

As we felt Folly was now comfortable in the barn with her puppies, we left the door open for her so that she could come and go as she pleased. The puppies’ eyes were just beginning to open, and I couldn’t wait to get home from school each day to go visit them in the barn. It’s a shame we didn’t leave that door open for the first time over a weekend. I’m certain I would have noticed that the puppies were failing had I been able to spend more time with them. But as it was, one evening a few days later, I went to visit them and found them all dead. Every single one of them. My parents were at work, so I called my grandfather on the phone in near hysterics. He and my grandmother lived on the ranch a couple of miles east of us. I don’t know that he completely understood what was wrong, but he certainly arrived quickly!

He determined that the puppies had not been fed. He could tell that they hadn’t been cared for in a couple of days. He asked me questions about what kind of mom Folly had been. I explained to him how great she was with the puppies when inside the house, and that everything was fine when she was locked up in the barn with them.

My dad must have shared with him that she was deaf. He concluded that if she couldn’t hear them she didn’t know they were hungry. I was furious and shouted at both my grandfather and Folly. How could she not know they needed fed? How could something so IMPORTANT escape her notice? Did hearing the pups trigger true maternal love? She couldn’t be deaf AND care for the puppies? My grandfather insisted I was trying to make her out to be more than a dog. Instincts only went so far. Sometimes competing instincts were even more dangerous. Folly’s instinct to be on guard of our yard and farm overrode her maternal instincts. She was conditioned to SEE what needed done, not HEAR what needed done. None of this made sense to me. I’m ashamed to admit that all I felt for Folly after the day her puppies died was HATE.

To me, Folly was back to being “dumb”. I looked at everything she did after that with the irrational thinking that mistakes she made were just plain stupid. I conveniently seemed to forget that she was deaf – that she had a disability that for a DOG was almost catastrophic! I ignored the impact her deafness would mean on how she was measured in value as a working dog on a ranch. I ignored it all the way up until the day she walked right out in front of a pick-up truck she couldn’t hear, driven by a distraught neighbor who had no chance of stopping in time.

I grieved for Folly for a very long time. Quiet, yet bitter tears drenched my pillow at night for several weeks. I remember thinking, that of every bad thing that could possibly happen to someone or something, deafness had to be the equivalent to a death sentence. It was for Folly’s puppies. It was for Folly.

Life’s Little Ironies

My husband and I first began to realize I was losing my hearing when I was twenty-five years old. My… ermm… puppies, were 2 months old and 13 months old. I have probably thought about Folly every week since that first audiological appointment in 1991.

For me, my deafness does not define me. It is simply who I am. A cochlear implant does not negate my deafness. Certainly, I am indeed “hearing again”, but it is not perfect hearing. I will never have perfect hearing again this side of Heaven.

To “hear” and communicate well, I take advantage of the latest technology. I try to eat right and get plenty of sleep. I attend support groups with other late-deafened individuals. When I can, I go to workshops and conferences for people with hearing loss in order to educate myself. Folks? I try really hard. But at the end of the day, I’m still a deaf person! Actually… at the end of the day when I take my cochlear implant off, I am literally a deaf person! Smile!

And yet, I’m OK with that. Learning to communicate differently has made communication BETTER for me. I drop EVERYTHING to talk to people. I look them in the eye; I process what they are saying. I acknowledge when I’m not hearing well, nor understanding well. There is nothing else on my mind when I talk to someone, other than what it is they are saying. If anything else is on my mind, I immediately stop understanding. I truly give people my undivided attention!

I realize that Folly was just a dog. But I recognize the difference having a loving supportive family has meant. I recognize that God has brought specific individuals, message boards, writers and speakers into my life to “grow me”. I wish I had thought of ways that Folly could have lived her life in safety. I wish I had not equated her disability with her intelligence. It’s actually a surprise she lived as long as she did, when one considers the enormous number of dangerous possibilities for her demise on a working ranch.

I have thought of Folly more than I have any other dog I have ever owned. It will likely surprise my family to even read this, for my thoughts were private up until now. Perhaps I am finally coming to terms with what it means to have a disability and still have a productive and meaningful life.

I raised “puppies”, I teach wonderful, eager students, I have friends who are hearing and friends who are culturally Deaf. I work hard to minister to a group of peers that are late-deafened. My deafness does not “define” me. My deafness is a blessing, and enriches my life. I didn’t discover this quickly. I had to become an “old dog” first!

Denise Portis

Helping to Change a Fearful Heart

Published on September 2, 2008September 2, 2008 by hearingelmo2 Comments

Kyersten and Tyco at Gambrill State Park, hiking near our home.

The Fearful Heart of a Dog

My family and I recently adopted a beautiful Norwegian Elkhound named Tyco. Tyco is a year old male and came from a local rescue . The rescue had picked him up from a shelter in Pennsylvania. We have a form that his previous family filled out when they took Tyco to the pound to give him up. All the problems they claimed Tyco had, we have never seen… but then again we don’t have him chained in the yard like they did.

My trainer (and friend) actually “found” Tyco for us, and they as a rescue always do some preliminary testing with a dog they take in for fostering. She had told us that he was not aggressive nor mean at all. However, although she didn’t think Tyco had been abused, it was obvious he had been hit. When we first brought Tyco home, he was very timid around my husband and 17-year-old son. It may be that he was not treated kindly by the men in his previous home.

Therapy that Works!

Tyco, like most puppies, chews. When he’d pick up an iPod to chew on, (something my teens have now learned to not leave lying around), I’d say in an authoritative tone, “Tyco…. DROP IT!” He’d drop it and sit apologetically with his ears down. I’d come towards him to pick it up and say, “Good boy! Good ‘drop it!’ “, and he’d cower and look away.

If we were all in the back yard “playing hard” with our canine family members, he’d cower in fear if we ran up to him to tussle over a ball… dropping it and cringing away. So, I did what any good dog owner would do with a dog with a problem when people ran up to him in play. I began running at him all the time in the back yard… throwing my arms around his neck and cooing, and praising him like crazy. I gave instructions for the rest of the family to do the same. He quickly realized that these boisterous “Tyco interceptions”, only meant lots of belly rubs and scratches behind the ears!

We’ve had Tyco for 6 weeks now, and he is still a little timid when verbally disciplined, but has really come a long way. We taught him that we can be loud and even authoritative, but that we’d never ever hit him. When he stops doing what we are fussing at him for, we immediately change our tone and praise him like crazy. He’s “getting it”. He wags his tail and “grins” at any family member loudly headed his way in a full sprint!

Denise with Chloe (who is off duty), brave enough to hike miles from home

The Fearful Heart of Someone New to Hearing Loss

Whether you lose your hearing suddenly, or have a progressive loss, it is not easy to go from hearing “fine” – to hearing poorly. Every individual has their own issues. These vary from person to person, due to factors which include: gender, age, relationship status, self-esteem, and even “faith history”.

My first reaction to hearing loss? I dropped out of life. I holed up in my home and “waved a white flag of surrender”. I felt powerless to fight the self-imposed isolation, and my self-esteem plummeted. I was a stay-at-home mom at the time, and I’ve always been grateful I wasn’t working outside the home. I’m sure I would have quit work unprofessionally and with a chip on my shoulder, certain that the hearing people I worked with were out to get me. As it was my marriage and friendships imploded, and activities in my kid’s school and our church came screeching to a halt!

Therapy that Works!

Patiently and stubbornly my husband helped me see all that I still had to live for… in spite of not hearing well. Even my audiologist handed me a flier about a support group that met in her offices one Saturday a month. (Don’t you wish all audiologists cared enough about their patients to give them support information that will help them when they are not an an appointment WITH THEM?)

At the time HLAA (Hearing Loss Association of America) was SHHH (Self-help for Hard of Hearing People). Self help? My first reaction was that I wanted someone ELSE to help me… I didn’t want to help myself. I was a whiny, bitter, angry, young woman. Finally, a friend at church who happened to be the leader of the support group, talked me into attending. Part of going to a support group is the satisfaction and “growth” one experiences when you reach out to help someone who needs it more than you. I needed plenty of help… AND FOUND IT.

No organization is perfect, and HLAA has it’s faults as well as benefits. (On the side-bar of my blog, you will see the links to numerous organizations that help people with hearing loss. All provide great resources, and serve a purpose). In a support group, I was able to find people just like me… those who had lost their hearing later in life. This meant the WORLD to me.

Now I am part of a hearing loss support group in Maryland. I look for people with a fearful heart. They are easy to spot! They look like what I saw in my own mirror every day for a long time. Sometimes that person needs somebody to catch their eye and then sprint towards them with open arms and praise them like crazy! Sometimes a “fearful heart person”, needs another peer to quietly listen and empathize. I’ve even met people that I could tell needed me to gently scold “DROP IT”. Their fear and pain were destroying who they were meant to be. They needed help to recognize that.

I see some of those changed people every month at support group meetings. They don’t wag their tails like crazy, but their smile of welcome is like a beam of sunshine shot straight from what was once a fearful heart. They hug my neck, but only briefly… someone has just walked into the building with a fearful heart that they recognize needs THEM.

The thing I love about HLAA, is that even if you do not have access to a local chapter that meets physically as a group, they offer support, networking, friends and advice through their online chapter and message boards as well. You can live ANYWHERE, and find the help your late-deafened fearful heart needs!

Denise Portis