Post-convention withdrawals

Getting on the plane to come back home after the HLAA Convention was hard. Not because I couldn't understand the airline employee. Not because I was worried about traveling alone or trying to avoid the reality of going back to a routine come Monday. Not even because I loved DC so much that my inner history nerd could probably pack up and move there if given the chance.

No, coming home was hard because it meant leaving behind 1,200 people who get hearing loss. No, I didn't get to know each and every one of them. But for a few brief days, I didn't have to explain myself to anyone. When I asked someone to repeat themselves, no one rolled their eyes or sighed or looked startled - repeating is a natural part of the conversation among the deaf and hard of hearing. Communicating was comfortable and I never felt excluded from the conversation.

Don't get me wrong. Many of my friends and all of my family can hear. I love them dearly and I know the feeling is mutual. I appreciate it when they are sensitive to my hearing loss and work to include me in their activities. They are thoughtful and understand that sometimes I need a sensory break. They know to sit where I can see them and to speak clearly but not over-enunciate. I treasure these labors of love, though I know many of my friends and family would take issue with me calling it a "labor." "It's really not," they'll insist, and for that, I am grateful.

But as well-meaning and kind as my hearing friends and family are, there is just something that clicks more when I am with other deaf and hard of hearing people. It was a welcome break to be with other people who knew exactly what I meant and how I felt when I relayed the story of that one time my audiologist turned his back to me while he talked. We laughed together at the irony that even among other deaf and hard of hearing people, we still had to ask what was going on and who said what. We discussed hearing aid brands the way other people might discuss their favorite cars. We have our own vocabulary - audiogram, cochlear implants, CapTel and looping are probably not part of a typical lexicon.

Sometimes, when I am in a group of hearing people, who are all talking and my eyes are darting around the room, trying to figure out who is talking and what they are talking about and then trying to track that conversation as it flies from mouth to mouth... sometimes, I feel incapable. Like I am not smart. Like I don't have anything to contribute. I understand that may be my own faulty perception. Yes, there are strategies I can employ to maximize my group experience. No, I don't use them as often as I should. Yes, this is an exhausting lifestyle sometimes!

I came home to a Facebook message from one of my new friends that I had met at the convention."I eavesdropped a little on a conversation you were having," he explained. "I liked what you had to say." And I realized why leaving DC was so hard. Because I felt smart and capable, like I had something to say and to contribute. For lack of a better term, I felt more like a person.

Being hard of hearing in a hearing world is not the worst thing to happen to me. Not by a long shot. But I do often struggle with feeling like I live on the outside of things, always on the edge of everyone else's experiences. Helen Keller said, "Blindness separates us from things but deafness separates us from people." That separation is hard to bear sometimes, and that's why being around other deaf and hard of hearing people is a relief: I don't have to work so hard to understand and be understood. We know how to communicate so that everyone is included.

I'm glad I have a growing community of deaf and hard of hearing friends here at home, but I'm excited to make new friends across the country, too!

Next year in Rhode Island - who's with me?!

Small comforts

There is something blissfully comforting about curling up on the couch with a cold glass of chocolate milk, turning the TV on and flipping it to Friends, knowing that whatever episode it is, I can probably recite line for line.

It's the little things, really.

Is Happy Hour still happy if you don't drink?

Random fact of the day: When I was a kid, my chores were to empty the dishwasher and to take out the trash. To this day, I would rather clean my apartment from top to bottom than do either of those things. In fact, my clean dishes have been sitting in the dishwasher since Monday. Just go with it.

Hearing aids: I get asked a lot of I know sign language. I do, I just choose not to use it much. I'm happy to let my hands do the talking if I'm conversing with a deaf or hard of hearing person or with an interpreter but beyond that, I'm milking my voice for all it's worth. I don't like to sign because I tend to avoid things that separate me from other people, that make me different. I know, I know, we're all unique (gag) and should celebrate our differences (double gag) but I don't like standing out. I like to blend in.

In other news: I have a sneaking suspicion there's some kind of drinking subculture at... church. I know, right? One girl I met in my small group asked me if I did Happy Hour. I stammered out something like, "No, maybe, sure, what?" She said she'd invite me the next time she and her friends go. Then at church on Wednesday, this guy introduced himself to me and said that "a bunch of us are going to (Bar Name) if you want to join us." And all I could think is, "At 8:30?! On a school night?! Alcohol?! I have to work tomorrow!" I basically said thank you, but not this time. I told him I was still getting over a cold. Which was technically true but not true enough to be a valid reason for not going. The truth was twofold - a) I'm just not that into drinking and b) the idea of trying to get to know people in a dimly lit establishment after struggling all night to keep up with the topic did not really appeal to me. I didn't think it was the right time to dump all of that on him, though!

I'm really not against drinking. If you have a glass of wine with your meal or a beer during a game, what do I care? If you have several and start getting mean and lose your inhibitions or worse, get behind the wheel, then I have a problem. Drinking = ok. Getting drunk = no bueno.

I'm just not that interesting in drinking myself. I will have something mild, like a cooler, ooooonce in a while (I mean, I am talking like once or twice a year here) but that's it. Going out for Happy Hour or to the bar every week doesn't float my boat and here is why:

1) I'm not that crazy about the taste. If it's really fruity, I could probably go for it, but beyond that, ick.

2) CALORIES, friends. Avoid them like the plague.

3) Drinks are expensive! The day after I turned the guy's invitation down, I looked up the bar in question, wondering if maybe I was confused and it wasn't a bar, just a restaurant or something. Nope, definitely a bar. And the drinks were like $9, $11, $7. The cheapest I could find was $5 for a spritzer. (Which I made note of should I ever decide to join them) I would just rather put my money towards something else - Redbox, electric bill, groceries, savings account, shoes, a restaurant I actually like, etc. Alcohol is just not something I want to pay for regularly.

4) Alcoholism runs in my grandma's family. I don't really know where I stand on the whole "Is alcoholism genetic" debate, but why take the risk of becoming addicted?

5) I have an obsessive personality. For instance, if I'm going through some drama with someone - an argument, a disagreement, a personality difference, whatever - I tend to sink my teeth in it and never let go. I recycle old arguments in person and in my head and just can't seem to let things go.(And all my friends and family just looked at me in feigned shock. Go away.) I struggle with my weight because I struggle with food. I eat mindlessly and get cranky when I don't have something delicious stuffed in my mouth. I mean, seriously, have you seen me with a piece of chocolate? It is not pretty. So really, where's the wisdom in putting alcohol in the hands of someone who tends to cling to things and not let go?

This is not to say that I will never, ever, ever, ever drink or anything. I don't mind it once in a while. I just don't want to make a habit of it. Which leaves me wondering now - am I going to be able to make friends at church without Happy Hour-ing?

Meh. I'll just have to entice them with home-cooked meals and good, old-fashioned movie nights. ;)

Counting my blessings! Really!

Random fact of the day: I have to edit a lot of bridge columns at work. I can now tell you an awful lot about bridge except how to play it.

Hearing aids: One of my hearing aid batteries quit on me today and I didn't have any extras in my purse. It's not that big of a deal, really. Just annoying. It's like all the sound in one ear just gets cut off. Makes me feel off-balance. But it's different when I deliberately choose to not wear one hearing aid (usually because the earmold doesn't fit right or something). That doesn't bother me. Getting caught without spare batteries does. Weird, right?

I buy batteries in packages of 16. They usually cost something like $13, $14 per package. Not great, not horrible. I change my batteries maybe once every couple weeks, or once every week and a half or so. So I figure I use four batteries a month. So one package can last me several months.

A few weeks ago, I walked into Radio Shack to get more batteries (Radio Shack is my supplier, yo). They were marked as $2.99 each. I thought for sure it was a typo and they were really $12.99 each. NOPE. They REALLY were $3 apiece, so I bought six packages. YUP. That is like two years' worth of batteries for $24!!! WIN.

I've been thinking about hearing loss and relationships. I've blogged a bit about that before (here, here, here, and here ) but I don't really talk about the good things. There are good things and there are good friends and people who DO want to help. I think that often I just look at the ways that hearing people do relationships and how much easier they have it. When I look at my own life and realize it doesn't look like theirs - I don't function like they do, make friends like they do, etc - I assume I've failed. I think that others don't care because they don't interact with me the same way they interact with others.

But the thing I need to get is that's not true. I haven't failed. Just because people interact with me differently doesn't mean they don't care. It does mean they have to put a little more effort in and yes, I think that sometimes people who haven't gotten to know me are intimidated by that, but for every one like that, there are five who aren't. And yes there are times when people forget to speak clearly or they look away or get a little impatient, but how can I fault them for that? How can I expect them to remember everything all the time? How can I, when I'm human, too?

I'm so grateful for my church. They WANT to help me communicate and get plugged in and DON'T WANT to see me isolate myself and they recognize the dangers of doing so. We're learning together, I think, how to navigate this communication thing. I'm so thankful for my friends there - who pick up a notebook and jot notes for me. Without asking. For friends who know sign language and can clue me in from across the room. ;)

I'm thankful for my friends and family (who I totally take for granted) who love me for ME and chastise me for ME and tease me for ME and not for my hearing aids. And even the stuff about me they don't like - that doesn't have anything to do with my hearing aids but everything to do with who I am as a person. I love them for doing things like having a quiet side conversation with me at a crowded party. For cheerfully planning one-on-one activities, for texting instead of calling, for tagging along to movies that are 30 miles away.

I wouldn't trade my job for anything. Not because of the work itself but because of my bosses and co-workers. They so freely and naturally clue me in when it's apparent I've lost my place in the conversation. They choose the quiet part of the restaurant when we go out to eat. They let me know what I missed when we have company-wide meetings. They say things like, "If you ever need anything, let me know!" "What can we do to help?" "What if we tried this?"

Man, I've really got it good.

In other news: I'm going to pull a Seth Meyers and do my own version of "REALLY?!" (the clip I linked to isn't captioned, so please forgive me if there's any offensive content!)

Winter Olympics? Really? The Olympics for cold-blooded creatures who think they're too cool for normal sports? Also known as the Games That Remove All Hilarity From Thursday Night's Lineup. Really?

Google's Buzz - REALLY? What is this? Facebook for Google? Foogle? Twitter for Google? Twoolge? Worse yet, Facebook, Myspace AND Twitter for Google? I'd make up a word for that, but my keyboard might explode. Really.

Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow!

The one with the baby talk

Random fact of the day: Keeping chicken fried rice in the fridge too long results in the eggs tasting rubbery after a while. Gross.

Hearing aids: I think I talk really loud. But no one ever tells me if I do. I just noticed a few patrons eavesdropping on my conversation at brunch today, so I thought maybe I was accidentally yelling. Oops. I can't tell how loud or quiet I am. I just try to match the noise level that I hear (or think I hear). Kind of like how when I drive, I just go at whatever speed everyone else is. Because the speed limit posting is just a suggestion, really.

In other news: Every now and then I get baby fever. I'm really not one of those girls who won't be happy until she's married with children. I'm savoring every moment of my single life. But my hormones don't care and tend to attack without warning. So once in a while, I wistfully wander through the baby section at department stores and dream about the pitter-patter of little feet. Sometimes I think my arms physically ache to hold a little one. One time, on Friends (get used to me starting sentences like this, too), Chandler and Monica were being interviewed to adopt a pregnant woman's baby. There was a mixup and the woman thought they were a different couple. When she found out they had misled her, she wanted to wash her hands of them. Chandler tried to talk her into giving them one more chance:

"I really want a kid. And when that day finally comes, I'll learn how to be a good dad. But my wife, she's already there. She's a mother without a baby."

And so my stupid hormones make me feel like a mother without a baby. But after a couple weeks, it passes. And I think about the upcoming wedding in our family and I dream about nieces and nephews instead. (I was thisclose to buying a baby shirt today that said "I love my auntie!" on it, even though I've been told in no uncertain terms that there are no plans for babies anytime soon. WHATEVER.)