A Recalcitrant Pity-fest

I am profoundly deaf. Basically I am deaf as a doorpost! I do not view being deaf as a disability because I grew up not being able to hear. My world was just the way it was, and I grew up with that as the standard. It is a bit like not missing something you've never had in the first place. Being deaf does not define me. It isn't who I am. I don't ascribe to a "Deaf Culture" or whatever. I don't even agree with, or like Auslan because I think it butchers English for its own purposes.

It is strange to me to see these words above, my statement that I am deaf. It is strange because deafness and not being able to hear are things that don't even occur to me in a large part of my life. It is not usually something I spend time thinking about, much like how I don't spend time thinking about, or being aware of say, my toenail. Oh sure, I'll pay attention to my toenail on occasion. I might stub my toe, bend my toenail, clip my toenails, or paint my toenails when it strikes my fancy. Yes for those of you who know me... yes damnit, I paint my toenails sometimes *lol*

So that is the point I am trying to convey here. I don't see my toenail as an integral part of my identity - and that is how I view my deafness. It is not an integral part of my identity any more than my hair colour, eye colour etc are a part of my body. The notion that I am deaf doesn't even enter into the picture for the majority of the time.

Then something happens. Bam. It is right there in my face. I am deaf. I didn't F. U. C. K. I. N. G. hear x and y happened because of that. Most of the time, I just take it in my stride but other times the enormity of it overwhelms me. I can't hear. I will never be able to hear. I will never have auditory language in the way that other hearing people do - never! Not even with the totally inconvenient and unworkable so called miracle cochlear implant. I am deaf and there is nothing I can do about it. Not now, not ever.

As I dissolve in helpless tears, I feel that familiar, irritable rage grow within me. Rage at myself for being upset. Rage over something I can't change. Rage that being deaf in that moment went from a non-issue to an issue of impaired capacity/ability for me. How dare it!! Then it swings back again to me. Shut up you silly ninny. Crying over something as ridiculous as this! Seriously!!? Get over it! Rage at my sorrow for myself. Rage at my compassion for myself. Where has my acceptance gone? I want it back and I want it back NOW. I have better things to do than spend it crying over a toenail of all things!

The last time this happened for me, I reached out to my mother. I put myself out there and texted her at my most vulnerable - something I had strived to avoid doing over the last few years as self protection from mother-daughter dynamics which were not benefiting me. I regretted sending the text as soon as I sent it, but her answer took away all my regret and provided validation and understanding. Finally here was something I shared of myself that she truly got.

Like a rain, my tears came and went, leaving me feeling that scent of calmness and freshly wetted earth. Life would go on. I would go on. It was over... until the next time my kids lock themselves in the laundry accidentally and can't wait patiently or go out into the yard to play until I come looking for them!!!! No, they kicked on the door until the door frame cracked! Oh yes, pityfest over until the next time. Thankfully they are few and far in between. I can't even remember the one I had prior to the recent one! At least now I know my Mum understands and won't hold me in any less regard for having the occasional woe is me moment over being deaf.

Narratives of My History Herstory.

Narrative, n. A spoken or written account of connected events; a story.

Please read this first before continuing...!

Inane Drivel ~ Fuck Skool Yo. - the beginning of my unschooling journey at 16 yrs old.

Seven Years in Me - my experiences of domestic violence

Breaking Free - a short story based on fact, names changed

Confessions of an Ex-Lapdog - on cults and recovery.

Joyous Birth - A political cult? - exploring cultish aspects

Growing Into Me - the transition from child-me to adult-me.

Shae - single mothering by choice.

A Recalcitrant Pity-fest - realisations of the hardships of deafness.

Thrice October - A tumultuous progression.

^ back to top

copyright © Lisa Morgan 2007-2012