Turn Up the Volume

When Silence Speaks Louder: Living with Hearing Loss

If you’ve ever had to nod and smile after asking someone to repeat themselves for the third time—or worse, laughed at a joke you didn’t hear because it felt safer than asking again—welcome to my world. Here’s the plot twist: I’m not just bad at listening; I have legitimate, severe hearing loss.

For a long time, even I didn’t realize how bad it was. Most people don’t know I wear hearing aids, and honestly, I like it that way. But living with an invisible disability isn’t without its challenges—or its unexpected blessings.

When the Volume Turned Down

For as long as I can remember, my hearing has been less than perfect—a muffled world of missed whispers and indistinct conversations. But at 22, it became undeniable that something was changing. It wasn’t a sudden shift; it was gradual, like someone slowly turning the volume down on my life.

At first, I made excuses. The TV wasn’t loud enough. People were mumbling. It wasn’t me. But as the years went on, the silence crept in further. I stopped hearing the little things: the faint rustling of leaves, the soft buzz of a refrigerator, the gentle lilt of someone’s laugh across the room. Entire chunks of conversations slipped through my fingers, leaving me nodding politely and hoping I hadn’t missed something important—or worse, something funny.

By the time I reached 34, I couldn’t pretend anymore. My world had grown so quiet that even I could hear the silence. Reluctantly, I faced reality and got hearing aids.

I thought hearing aids would be like flipping a switch, restoring all the sounds I’d lost to some ideal version of clarity. What I didn’t realize was that the world isn’t quiet—it’s deafening.

Suddenly, the world became loud again. Birds chirped incessantly, the office buzzed with ambient noise, and every creak of a chair felt like a thunderclap. It was beautiful, overwhelming, and sometimes downright annoying. Did birds always chirp this much? And why does every office sound like a construction site?

It wasn’t the magical fix I’d hoped for. In fact, it made me want to pull the hearing aids out and retreat back into the silence that, while isolating, had at least been manageable.

The Frustration of Asking, “What?”

Before hearing aids, every conversation felt like an Olympic event in frustration. I’d ask, “What?” repeatedly, and after two or three tries, I’d give up—either faking a smile or nodding like I understood. Spoiler: I didn’t.

The embarrassment of constantly asking people to repeat themselves—or missing out entirely—was exhausting. I often saw the frustration in their eyes, felt the sighs, and noticed the subtle shifts in their body language as they repeated themselves. The lighthearted jokes about my “selective hearing” weren’t always so lighthearted to me.

But here’s the kicker: my inability to hear sharpened something else—a skill I like to think of as my superpower.

My Superpower: Reading Between the Words

When you can’t rely on hearing, you learn to read people. Facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice became my cues to understanding the world around me. I’ve learned to sense emotions, pick up on unspoken tension, and anticipate people’s needs in ways that surprise even me.

Where others might miss subtle signs, I tend to pick up on them. It’s like God traded one ability for another. And honestly? I wouldn’t give up this “superpower” for perfect hearing. It’s taught me to be present, to truly see people, and to connect with them in ways words often fail.

Struggling to Hear the Music I Love

Music has always been my first love. Singing in the church choir, playing instruments in school, or enjoying worship tunes in my quiet time—it’s been a constant in my life.

But hearing loss didn’t spare my favorite thing. The melodies and harmonies I used to easily pick up on now elude me. Sometimes, a song feels off—like a beautiful melody is lost in translation.

Yet I still sing for the Lord. I might not hear the notes the way I once did, but I know He hears me. And that’s enough.

The Challenges No One Thinks About

Living with hearing loss isn’t just about missing words; it’s about missing moments. Inside jokes, whispered secrets, the sound of rain tapping on the windows—all those little, irreplaceable details.

Job interviews were another challenge. Imagine walking into a room, eager to make a good impression, and not hearing half the questions. Yet, by God’s grace, I still got the job. Somehow, He used my confidence—or maybe my cluelessness—to open doors that felt firmly shut.

The Blessing of Silence

For years, I let people’s opinions shape me. Every comment, criticism, and offhand remark stuck like Velcro. But my hearing loss? It’s a blessing in disguise.

Proverbs 19:11 says, “A person’s wisdom yields patience; it is to one’s glory to overlook an offense.” Not hearing the offense in the first place makes this verse a lot easier to live out.

Sometimes, I think God muted the noise in my life so I could hear Him more clearly. And honestly, I’m grateful for it.

God’s Glory in My Weakness

Living with an invisible disability can feel lonely. People don’t see the frustration, the exhaustion, or the effort it takes to keep up. But 2 Corinthians 12:9 reminds me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

My hearing loss isn’t a limitation in God’s eyes—it’s a testimony. It’s a reminder that He uses the weak to shame the strong and the imperfect to display His perfection.

Finding the Humor, Because That’s Who I Am

Of course, it’s not all serious. Like when someone calls me “Ashley,” and I think they said “Sushi.” Or when my husband resorts to pointing at things instead of repeating himself.

Laughter, as always, is the balm to my soul. It turns moments of frustration into moments of joy.

Encouragement for the Journey

If you’re struggling—whether with hearing loss, another disability, or just a tough season—know this: God sees you. He hears you (even if you can’t hear yourself). Trust in His promise: “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28). His plans for you are filled with hope and purpose.

Lean into His grace, embrace your quirks, and remember: your weakness might just be your superpower.