I have tinnitus. For those of you who don’t know, tinnitus is a condition when you (and no one else) hear ringing, whooshing or hissing in one or both of your ears. It can be caused by things like ear wax buildup, TMJ, circulatory issues or being exposed to loud noises.
I first noticed something was up with my ears two years ago when I would go to bed surrounded by peace and quiet except for the low-pitched ringing in my head. This wasn’t the blaring ringing hangover that occurs after one night out at a concert. This was a more subtle, came-from-out-of-nowhere sound that returned to visit me night after night.
Over those two years, I would occasionally wonder about this sound: Was I imagining it? Was it really tinnitus? Was it serious? And during that time I went on with my life, not making any amends for my new situation. I flew in airplanes, listened to music through my AirPods and went dancing. The ringing remained while I was busy enjoying new adventures.
As I found myself settling in a new town with much less activity in my life, I spent more time focusing on the tinnitus. I was experiencing earaches - were those a sign of tinnitus? How did alcohol impact the ringing? What about that time in Brazil earlier in the year when I didn’t notice it - maybe it comes and goes?
The more I concentrated on it the more I dreaded the idea of never being without the ringing. As I waited for a hearing exam, my mind sought certainty. It continued to ping-pong between theories, Google explanations, and kept me in a state of low-level anxiety. My mind was doing its job brilliantly – trying to keep me safe by predicting the outcome of this scenario and weighing options. It was also distracting me from seeing what I didn’t want to see.
It wasn’t just that I didn’t want the sound sensation to continue. Sure, I didn’t love it, but hadn’t I lived it with it for two years? No. To my mind having tinnitus meant something. It meant something was wrong with me, that this otherwise “perfect” body was flawed. Tinnitus meant I may eventually lose some hearing and how would that look? My mind didn’t like the optics of tinnitus – it didn’t jibe with my image of myself. So it continued to spin and look for answers and I felt worse.
As I began to look deeper at what thoughts arose around this new circumstance, I found a deeper issue still - a decades-old belief rooted in my childhood: “it’s all my fault.” The ringing in my ears could be the result of dance festivals I attended where DJs thought louder meant better. I had made those choices, and I was responsible. It was MY fault I might eventually lose my hearing. I could’ve prevented this.
It’s never our “problem” that’s the problem. It’s what our minds say about the problem that’s the problem.
Tinnitus is not the problem. Tinnitus is going to be tinnitus. By some estimates, 20% of the U.S. population is affected by tinnitus. I am not alone or unique. I will continue to have ringing in my ears at night, or I won’t. I will be annoyed by it or I won’t. I will have earaches that are associated with tinnitus or not. And I’ll never know. And if I need to get a hearing-aid when I get older, I’ll be like my dad. And he’s currently 96, so not so bad.
However, it was my mind's focus on tinnitus that was the perfect distraction from feeling deep-rooted shame around responsibility. But what is wrong with feeling shame? If we really take a look at shame, what do we see? Is it a physical object we can hold? Or is it a concept - a distant memory of something in our past that our minds like to keep alive in a never-ending effort to keep us safe? Your tinnitus is your fault – withdraw from life! Don’t go out anymore! Stay safe!
When I look at that shame I see a familiar old story of a little girl getting in trouble and not knowing where to turn for help except inward. I see a protective mind swooping in to save the day - to create a “good girl” who won’t get in trouble - and burying the shame. And don’t we all have similar beliefs our minds created years ago in reaction to an uncomfortable moment?
What if that shame is just an old wound like a skinned knee that if not allowed to heal, keeps bleeding and bleeding? Allowing that little girl shame to present itself however it does in this adult body is like giving that knee the Band-Aid it needs. Can I be with those old feelings and sensations, knowing they are not here to hurt me but are waiting to be seen and healed? Is that any different than being with the feelings and sensations that arise with tinnitus?
Tinnitus is like our thoughts. If we focus on our thoughts and believe they mean something, they feel uncomfortable and solid - like they are with us all the time. If I look at the condition as dangerous and give it attention, I experience it as more intrusive and stop seeing it as something that changes. But if I can get curious about what these thoughts are made of or be with whatever emotion arises with shame, then I can dive straight into the reality of what's arising in this moment, without all the bells and whistles that come with old stories and old identities.
Today I got my hearing checked. My audiologist said my hearing was normal and there was also evidence of damage to the tiny hair cells in my cochlea. “I’m sure it’s because of all the loud music I was exposed to while dancing” I said. My brain still wanted confirmation. And because maybe I couldn’t hear it from myself yet, I laughed when my audiologist replied “we have no idea.”
Going forward I will do what makes sense to deal with the effects of tinnitus when I need to and not before. Sure, I can make adjustments to my lifestyle (sleep, exercise, diet) that anyone can do to improve their health. But I can be wise to my brain’s desire to turn these actions into fear-based precautions. Rather, I can trust in the moment to guide me towards my next move and know that whatever arises for me right now – whether physically or emotionally – is here to be felt and not buried.