A space for real stories, honest reflections, and small victories from life with tinnitus and hearing loss.
Here youāll find comfort, perspective, and maybe even a laugh or two as we learn to live a little more peacefully with that damn noise.
What I Wish People Knew About Tinnitus & Hearing Loss
By Marie

When people talk about hearing loss, they often picture silence. But thatās not my world.
I live with uneven hearing loss and tinnitus, so my world is full of sound. Some of it real, some of it imagined, all of it a little confusing.
Since all this began, Iāve started to notice the world differently. Not just because of the sounds, or sometimes the lack of them, but because of how people react when they interact with me.
This article isnāt about blame or pity. Itās simply a small window into what itās really like, and what I wish people around me understood a little better.

Tinnitus isnāt just a faint background hum. Some days itās a whisper, and others itās a storm that fills every quiet space.
Tinnitus alone hinders my ability to hear voices clearly. Itās not that Iām actively listening to the tinnitus, itās that the tinnitus gets in the way of me making sense of the world around me. It interrupts my efforts to follow conversations. It drains my energy.
And hearing loss isnāt solved by ājust turning it up.ā Louder doesnāt mean clearer. Sometimes itās like every sound arrives wrapped in fog. Voices blur together, and the effort to follow along can be exhausting.
For most people, silence means calm. For me, silence depends on how well I can manage my tinnitus.
The quieter my environment, the louder it feels inside my head. That said, I still love peace and quiet. Iāve had tinnitus for over half my life and most of the time, I deal with it well. But those who are new to tinnitus will sadly miss that feeling of real peace and stillness.
Thatās why some of us play soft background sounds when others crave silence. Itās not because I donāt value calm, itās because my peace sounds different.

When you have hearing loss or tinnitus, every conversation is hard work. Iām lip-reading, guessing, concentrating, filling in the gaps, and pretending itās all fine.
By the end of the day, that constant focus leaves me mentally drained.
If I seem tired or zone out, itās not that I donāt care. Itās that Iāve used up my listening energy.
Because my hearing is uneven, profoundly deaf in my left ear and around 40% loss in my right, I canāt always tell where sound is coming from.
When someone calls my name and I canāt see them, itās like playing an unannounced game of āHide and Seek.ā Iāll spin one way, then another, trying to look casual (but probably looking ridiculous) while clearly having no idea where you are.
Once, someone shouted āHey Marie!ā across the park, and I waved enthusiastically⦠at a complete stranger walking their dog. The person calling me was behind me, laughing. Moments like that used to frustrate me, but now I mostly laugh along. Itās part of the package. It's a mix of confusion, comedy, and learning not to take it too seriously.

Itās a kind thought, and I totally understand why you do it, but it can make things harder. Shouting distorts sound and changes facial expressions, which makes lip-reading tricky. Instead, just face us when you talk, speak clearly, and be patient if we ask you to repeat something. You have no idea how grateful I am when you help me out in this way.
If Iāve asked you to repeat something a few times (and honestly, I probably give up before the third try), the best thing you can do is rephrase it. A slightly different wording can make all the difference.
Think clarity, not volume.
Having a chat is one of the most wonderful connections humans can have. Remember, communication is a shared effort. Itās not solely about me, just like it isnāt solely about you. We both need to try to make ourselves understood. I promise, Iām doing my part.
Please, whatever you do, donāt say āNevermindā after deciding itās not worth repeating.
It might sound harmless, but it stings when it happens time and time again. It quietly says, āYouāre too much effort.ā
The danger here is that I start to feel more and more worthless. Most of us would rather struggle through the noise than feel left out of the moment.
Thereās no cure, no magic button to press, and that can make people uncomfortable.
But the truth is, I donāt need solutions as much as I need understanding. Sometimes, a simple āThat must be toughā or āThanks for telling meā goes further than any advice.
I often feel like a burden when I tell people Iām hard of hearing, but most people understand. They understand because they either know someone in the same situation or because theyāre just kind. And most people, Iāve found, are kind.

Living with tinnitus or hearing loss doesnāt make someone weak or broken. Although Iāll admit, on a bad day, I might disagree with that.
It teaches resilience, patience, and a strange kind of acceptance. We can learn to find joy in the moments between the annoyance of the noise.
We have immense gratitude for the people who make an effort to meet us halfway.
If someone close to you lives with tinnitus or hearing loss, your awareness can make a world of difference.
Here are some tips to help:
Be patient. Be kind. Face me when you speak. And know that your willingness to listen, really listen, is the greatest gift you can give.
Do you live with tinnitus or hearing loss? Or maybe you know someone who does?
Iād love to hear how you cope, what helps, or what you wish others understood better. Your story might help someone else feel less alone. You can use the "Contact Me" form below.
Take care,
Marie

(Itās a friendly buzz, promise.)
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I do not offer medical advice. I am not a doctor or a medical professional.
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