Through the Eyes of a Newbie

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Milo Cade - Fidos For Freedom, Inc., Service Dog.

Milo Cade – Fidos For Freedom, Inc., Service Dog.

Many of Hearing Elmo’s readers know that I retired my service dog, Chloe, this year. Since May 1st, she is enjoying retirement and still does some hearing alerts at home. She is happy, spoiled, and we believe well-deserving of all the naps and belly rubs she is currently receiving. I was recently matched with Milo, from Fidos For Freedom, Inc. Milo is a shepherd/lab mix and I am enjoying the process of being partnered with a mobility/balance service dog versus a hearing/balance assistance dog. We determined my primary needs are mitigating issues with Meniere’s disease and not hearing alerts. I love my cochlear implant, and feel like I have adjusted to the world of “hearing again” very well. My balance is, and will continue to be, a major issue. I suppose in a way, this is an introduction of my new partner, Milo.

One thing I have enjoyed is experiencing MY world (work, church, walks, etc.) through the eyes of a newbie. For Milo, everything in MY world is new. He looks at everything in awe. If he isn’t looking in awe, he is sometimes in “investigation mode”.

Is it scary?

Is it freaky?

Is it edible?

Is it alive?

What does Denise think?

At a training session with my trainer a week or so ago, I brought Milo to one of my classes. I had allowed enough time to exit the service dog safely from my car. I had allowed time for a short potty break. (Honestly, Chloe hasn’t been at home long enough for me to get out of the habit of some of these things. I found myself at a potty area recently and realized I didn’t have a dog by my side!). I allowed enough time. Not.

I did not allow time for all the new things my newbie partner was seeing. The grassy area was new. The trees and picnic bench were new. The ramp into the building was new. The automatic door push-button was new. At least… it was new to MILO. For just a brief second, I was mildly annoyed. I had not allowed time for appraising all of these new environments. That was MY bad, not Milo’s. I want my dog to be confident and aware of his surroundings. I was almost late to class, but the time I took “extra” was time worth taking. Newbies need some extra patience from those of us who are veterans to the schedule and environment. We owe it to them. But you know something?

Blowing It BIG!

I really know how to blow it. I mean, I don’t do anything half-way. This isn’t always a good thing. I recently became extremely exasperated with someone relatively new to “hearing again”. I try hard to be a positive advocate for people with disabilities, and chronic and/or invisible illnesses. This blog is, in part, a way that I try to raise awareness and encourage people to talk about tough subjects.

I see this lady about 3 times a month at the grocery store. Over a year ago she saw my CI, asked about it, and eventually had surgery herself. This individual was relatively new to hearing loss. She was still struggling to help the people important to her understand that the CI did not “FIX” her hearing. Instead it was restored to a type of hearing (bionically) and  she would still be in environments occasionally where she would need others to understand that she needed to 1) see their face, 2) slow them down, and 3) find a quieter spot. After listening to her for about ten minutes – really distraught about not feeling accepted –  I felt myself becoming impatient. We had this conversation before and I felt as if we were “beating a dead horse”. Remorse and shame immediately washed over me. I stuck my finger in my own face and preached, “Really, Denise? Really?” (Y’all are trying to figure out how you stick your own finger in your face, aren’t you?)

As I had (thankfully) kept my mouth shut, I continued to listen and realized she was now apologizing… “I’m sorry I keep bringing this up. I just can’t seem to help them understand that the CI was not a CURE. I’m so frustrated!”

I realized then and there that I needed to put myself in newbie shoes more often and remember how difficult those early years were. Advocating and educating take time. Families and friends do not just wake up overnight and suddenly “get it”.

I told her that I often forget how hard those early years were, and that she had to keep at it… eventually some of it would start to sink in for her family members.

As a person of faith, I believe everything happens for a reason. We may not always like the purpose behind God allowing something to happen, but there is always a reason. I’m also (gulp) old enough now to know that we may not EVER completely understand why something happened this side of Heaven. I have ALWAYS felt like that the acquired disabilities I have were allowed so that I could help others… or at least try to do so. I blow it. I blow it BIG. However, I think those of us that have lived the life a few years, owe it to the newbies in our lives, to lovingly coach, encourage, cheerlead, advise, and HUG often.

You are going to have newbies in YOUR life. Unless you are isolating yourself, you will have folks new to whatever “ails ya”. People will look to you for understanding and advice. You will be able to empathize much better than their doctor, their families, and their co-workers. Of all people – YOU get it.

Are you looking for a way to invest your life in someone with similar challenges? There are opportunities everywhere. You simply need to know where to look. Urban areas often have face-to-face support groups for various illnesses and disabilities. There are numerous online support networks, discussion forums, and peer supports. Many doctor’s offices and rehabilitation specialists have contacts to support personnel. Invest yourself in the life of a newbie. Remind yourself while investing how difficult those first years were! It shouldn’t surprise you to discover, sometimes by accident, the student becomes the teacher. Always, always be teachable.

Denise Portis

© 2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Self-Talk

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Self-talk. Chances are you have been using self-talk since you were a child. As a matter of fact, developmental psychologists tells us that self-talk begins in middle childhood, ages 6 to 11-years-old (Arnett, 2013). Perhaps that is why many folks think that simply “talking to yourself” out loud is the same thing as self-talk. Children often “play out loud”, adding sound effects, conversations, and even lengthy monologue within imaginary play. This is not self-talk. Self-talk is really just your inner voice. It often reflects your conscious and unconscious thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions (Psych Central, 2015).

Self-talk CAN be out loud… don’t get me wrong. One of my favorite things to practically shout when I use self-talk, is “Girl? I REJECT THAT!” This is said out loud, with southern accent, hand on hip, and oozing with attitude.  (Are you picturing it? If you know me, you likely have even heard me say it).

Self-talk is also studied in Sport Psychology. As a matter of fact, if you do some searching online, many athletes have often used quotes that incorporate the use of self-talk. We ALL use self-talk, however. Whitbourne (2013), explained “Psychologists have identified one important type of these inner monologues as “self-talk,” in which you provide opinions and evaluations on what you’re doing as you’re doing it. You can think of self-talk as the inner voice equivalent of sports announcers commenting on a player’s successes or failures on the playing field” (para. 1).

This is why sometimes internally and oft-times out loud, we say, “Well. That was stupid”. As a matter of fact, much of our self-talk as adults is negative. Some of us may be parroting things we actually hear others say. However, most of the negative self-talk comes from the heart of pessimism and self-deprecation. Why? Why are we so hard on ourselves?

People who live with chronic illness, or invisible (or visible) disabilities often have negative self-talk. Statistics tell us we don’t really engage in negative self-talk more than adults who do not struggle with these issues, but perhaps the source is different. Frustration tends to be a significant source of negative self-talk for the differently-abled.

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Perhaps you are trying to discover how to do something independently. Maybe your are coming to terms with having to do something differently. Here are some things I have found helpful when I find frustration is spawning negative self-talk:

1. Identify it. Perhaps this is why the first phrase out of mouth is often “Girl? I REJECT THAT”. I identify that I am engaging in negative self-talk. See it (or hear it). Call it what it is. Now that you recognize it:

2. Change your spin on it. See if you can’t put a positive spin on it. Perhaps your self-talk has recognized something that you need to pay attention to but you need to say it like you are talking to your best friend. Be your own best friend. We wouldn’t say, “Geesh, that was dumb”. Try re-phrasing it. “Well I’m smarter than this. How can I make sure this doesn’t happen again?”

A great example of this happened to me just last week. I took a really hard fall between my front door and the grass to “potty the dogs”. It was late, and pretty dark outside. I was in a hurry. My pillow was calling out to me and I wanted to reply face-to-face. I left the house without my cane. I was only walking 10 yards. What could happen?

I have 6 bruises and a small cut on my arm to show how wonderfully intelligent that choice was. So laying there in the grass with “mother earth” in my mouth, ear, and eyes, my first thought was:

“Dang. You are so graceful”.

Yeah. I speak fluent sarcasm.

My second thought was, “Geesh, that was stupid”. I’m a bit of a motor-mouth so I’m pretty sure the conversation went on a little longer, discussing how many brain cells I have, could I be any lazier for not taking 10 seconds to grab the cane?, and competing very hard to convince all living things listening that I deserve my title of Accident Prone Queen.

Because I’ve had so much practice at this, I immediately identified what was happening. Putting a new spin on it meant I could say, “Well this is why you should take 10 seconds to grab the cane!” Folks, I was WRONG to leave the house without my cane. But finding a middle-ground and re-phrasing the self-talk helped me be just a little more kind to myself. We need to take the time to be kind to ourselves.

3. Flexible expectations. No one knows you like YOU know you. If you have lived with invisible illness or disability for any length of time at all, you know what your own limitations are.

Unlike some of my cochlear implant friends, I still do not hear music very well, nor enjoy what I hear. My iTunes account could be deactivated. Does this mean music isn’t a part of my life? Absolutely not. I sing 80’s tunes at the top of my lungs when home alone.

Because of positional vertigo, I cannot use exercise equipment like the cross trainer (my husband’s favorite), stair-climber, or anything that moves my position vertically. Does this mean I cannot exercise? No. I can use a treadmill and I can walk. The latter I do twice a day.

The doctoral program I am in is designed to push you through in two years. I will be done in 3.5 years. And you know what? That is OK. This is the pace I can do successfully and complete my schooling. I can be flexible in my expectations!

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When all else fails, tell yourself to shut up. You may not say, “Girl? I REJECT THAT!”, but don’t be afraid to tell yourself to zip it. It may even be helpful to say it out loud. It works for me! In the end, you can actually work self-talk to your advantage. Learn to cheerlead yourself. Most of us look great with poms-poms.

Arnett, J. (2013). Developmental Psychology: A cultural approach (1st ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Education, Inc.

Psych Central (2015). Challenging negative self-talk. Retrieved June 15, 2015, from http://psychcentral.com/lib/challenging-negative-self-talk/

Whitbourne, S. K. (2013). Make your self-talk work for you. Psychology Today. Retrieved June 15, 2015, from https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/fulfillment-any-age/201309/make-your-self-talk-work-you

Denise Portis

© 2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

The Two Sides of Me

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happy-sad

I work as an adjunct professor at a local community college. This year I was thrilled to participate on the “Year of Social Justice” committee and to head up one of the major activities for the year – “disABILITY for a Day”. The students were given 5 disabilities to choose from, and were to experience a day of class rotation with the chosen disability. We limited the options because we did not want students (for example) choosing a mental illness and inadvertently feeding the stigma of various diagnosis. The students were to then answer 10 response questions and write an essay about the experience; or, create a video segment on their experience. If a student had a disability or invisible illness, they could do the activity “as their norm” or choose something different.

I received a number of finished products from some of my own students, some of whom I had no idea had a disability or invisible illness, and a few that I did. With permission, I am sharing part of that response (and leaving out names and identifiable descriptions).

An Invisible Influence

While I consider myself a person with invisible disabilities (profound hearing loss/hearing again bionically, and Meniere’s disease), I have worked very hard to make the invisible – VISIBLE. I learned in my late 20’s, that it served in my favor for people to recognize that I did not hear normally nor move normally. I do this by “BLINGing up” my cochlear implant, using a brightly-colored cane, and going about my daily life with a service dog by my side.

Although I have “been out of the closet” for years, there are more subtle things that I do not even realize are an influence for others who are struggling. I’m open about my challenges and actually have to work hard at not using too many personal illustrations throughout my lectures. (It’s one thing to educate your students about the disability community, and another to overwhelm them with details).

When I stumble, I usually say, “Woah!” and then grin super big and ask “would you like to see the rest of the dance?” I giggle at myself. Genuine, embarrassing/snorting giggles. If I turn too quickly towards the white board and slam into it, cheek first, I would have a spiffy comeback sometimes such as “ouch… up close and personal”. At times I would simply say, “Crap. It’s gonna be one of those days”. My students knew when I was having a particularly bad day because I would sit during most of the class, or simply announce that I was going to limit motion today (so please come to ME-smile).

One day in class, I reached to pick up a paper clip that I did NOT want Chloe to retrieve and fell on my face to the floor. Several students were there in seconds lending me a hand to resume my vertical stance. After hearing a couple of times, “Geez, professor. Ask for help”, I learned that I could ask for assistance when my service dog could not do so safely, and no one minded at all! I work hard at being transparent. I simply didn’t realize how well students with disabilities could see right through some of the “stuff” I used to advocate in a positive way.

I had a student this semester with visible disabilities, hidden and covered up to make them as invisible as possible. The student sat on the front row and wore a hoodie the first couple of weeks of class. It hid her face and her torso. I saw a transformation in this student in only four months. It wasn’t until the “disABILITY for a Day” assignments were turned in that I understood the why behind the change.

By the end of the semester, the hoodie was gone, she sported sparkly jewelry that actually drew attention to some of her challenges. She smiled (and golly did she have the most beautiful smile). She talked to everyone in her vicinity in the classroom. I saw students come up and hug her at the end of the semester and exchange phone numbers. The following is part of what she shared:

The Two Sides of Me

I always tried to hide my disability. In public I would cover up as much of me as possible. My face could be seen and I’d smile when someone looked at me. I would never allow them to look to long. In reality, I was broken, scared and even scarred. I have a professor who embraces all that she is, disabilities and all. I’ve seen her put other people’s unease at rest. She cracks up at herself. When she is having a bad day, she says so but continues to do her thing and teach. She never makes us feel sorry for her on her bad days. I’m not sure how she does it because one thing I hate is pity. Maybe it is because she is real when she is having a good day or bad day. I’ve heard her use the words “differently-abled”. She says she borrows it from a lady she knows with incredible courage and strength who lives with significant challenges. I don’t know why I’m 19 and only now figuring out that I’m differently-abled and not disabled. I have now learned to tell my family or close friends that I’m in pain or having a bad day. I don’t let it drag me down though. I have really good days, too. I’ve even learned how to put on make-up with one hand. Yay, me! There are two sides of me, and I like both sides.

I Get it Wrong – So Will You

I don’t share any of this to “toot my own horn”. As a matter of fact, I’ve made so many mistakes. For example, I had a student ask me this last semester, “Are you OK, today?” “Sure,” I replied with false sincerity. “Bull****”, they replied.

Busted.

I share this post today for one reason only. You often aren’t aware of your own influence.

Do you have a tough life? Be genuine, but live as if you are being watched. Be real, be transparent, but remember that someone somewhere is taking notes.

good example

“Denise, you have no freaking idea what it is like. You have plenty of support. You have a job. You have friends”.

Yes. I hear from disgruntled readers from time to time that I cannot understand what it is like to experience the hardships they face. They are right. Their challenges are not my own. I know that I do NOT always have good support and feel alone. I have a job, but it is really hard to go to work some days. I have friends, but only a few that I could actually say, “please help me”. I don’t want anyone to ever think that I do it right all the time. If I was perfectly at ease with who I am and comfortable in my own skin, I wouldn’t be seeing a counselor twice a month. I have major depressive disorder and it is very closely linked with my disabilities. I do not want anyone to think I do not struggle – for I do. My motto is “I have disabilities; my disabilities do not have me”.

Quotation-Scott-Adams-life-influence-people-Meetville-Quotes-125021

Live your life – that’s right, the one that is often TOUGH – as if someone was watching.

Someone is.

Denise Portis

©2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

SYTYCD

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funny_dancer

We had a brief spat of rain this past week. When that happens I’m at risk for a “brief splat”. Folks? I think I’m more reliable than the Weather Channel. Seriously.

I’m like a human barometer. If it is going to rain, I know it. My vestibular system goes haywire, the tinnitus increases, and my world spins much faster than it normally does. So on a rainy day this past week, I was in class and took a very quick, very unwise turn from the whiteboard to face the class.

I actually have no idea why I didn’t fall. Call it luck. Maybe it was God. Perhaps I’m just THAT GOOD. However, just because I didn’t fall doesn’t mean I didn’t “bust a move”. As a matter of fact, it takes quite the “fancy footwork” to correct a near fall.

I stood there for a minute, with my arms stretched out to aid in my balance correction. I know my eyes were as wide as saucers. I actually heard my breath HITCH. (And if *I* heard it, it must have been VERY LOUD). I may not be able to move fast, but I think fast. I immediately thought, “Ok. How do I explain this? Do I cover with a counter-move?”

I pictured myself launching right into the MOONWALK, and prophesied I’d end up on my fanny.

I pictured myself STAYIN’ ALIVE, but this was long before THEIR time. Instead I decided to just lower my arms slowly and calmly say, “WHEW!”

A student in the front row nonchalantly said, “You should charge for that. Seriously. It’s that good”. Everyone laughed and the tension was broken. Professor Portis didn’t land on her face…

TODAY

How Do You Explain It Away?

If you have an invisible illness or disability that sometimes has your body doing things you wish it didn’t do, you’ve likely tried to think of ways to explain it to others when it happens.

I have a friend with a neurological disorder which causes her extremities to sometimes “twitch”. If she is fatigued and having a “bad day”, she may twitch very violently. I’ve learned to give her a little bit of space so that I do not accidentally get “hit”. I’ve known her awhile, however. Other folks who aren’t use to being around her, may experience a “near miss”. She cracks me up with her practiced come-backs.

“Duck!”

“You should see what I can do on a dance floor!”

These are coping mechanisms. Not everyone tries to laugh it off and poke fun at themselves. Some folks ignore it. Some folks just apologize (like it’s their fault? Wha…?) Some people don’t even try. They isolate themselves so that they aren’t put in a position to have to explain anything.

Kids. Expect it! They Are Curious!

Some of the best things ever said to me about my disabilities came out of the mouth of babes — children! I get so cracked up sometimes that it is all I can do to bend down to take the time to explain.

I’ll never forget when a kiddo pointed to Chloe in vest and asked, “Why does that dog have on a SADDLE?” 

Sometimes OTHER people help me out. They help me explain to children what is going on. The Costco I go to on occasion know me now simply because folks start recognizing my service dog. One day I was in the freezer section and had to pass a more narrow opening to the aisle due to two cooking stations set up at the end. My balance wasn’t great that day, so I decided to just hang on to the cart and walk on through. The Costco deli representative had better ideas.

“Here, you’ve got to try this. It is really good!” She stuck a toothpick in a piece of meat that she had just fried up in her Wok. I shouldn’t have done it, but I reached for that toothpick.

Yup, I almost fell face first into the Wok. The lady grabbed my elbow and continued to extol the virtues of the seasoned meat.

A child nearby exclaimed with horror in their voice, “Dad! That lady almost fell in that cooker!”

The Costco worker, without missing a beat, said, “No worries. I caught her. We’re not frying up that kind of meat today”. Everyone laughed and numerous folks moved their carts clear so I could get through with giant cart and service dog in heel. I wasn’t the least bit embarrassed. I’m glad when people can tell that I am comfortable enough with being ME, that I don’t mind a little humorous dialogue.

When to Accept That There is No Way TO COVER

Humor doesn’t explain away everything. Laughing at yourself doesn’t always succeed at helping others feel more comfortable. Sometimes, all you can do is state the facts and move on.

I am sporting a big cut on my left thumb. It is healing and my nail is finally growing back. I acquired this injury as the result of cutting an apple with a paring knife on a day I wasn’t being extra cognizant of the fact that I have peripheral neuropathy. I was in class the day of the “big cut”. A student asked, after pointing to the huge bandage on my thumb, “what in the world happened to your thumb”? I explained how I got my “boo-boo” and the student stated the obvious. “Maybe you should get someone else to cut your apple!” I laughed and agreed, but have to tell you… I was peeved for a minute. I mean, I work SO HARD at being independent! I can’t even cut my own apple safely. I was still in a peeved mood when I went for my neurologist check up that afternoon. This was a re-check after the March 8th concussion. It was supposed to be a quick “in and out”.

But…

I was still peeved. After checking everything out, I told Dr. S. “Listen. I’ve had vestibular rehab. I use a service dog. I have my cane with me all the time. I walk with a helmet now on bad weather days. I never wear socks. I alert family members when I’m headed to the shower. I don’t drive at night. I drop things all the time, and cheerfully allow my retired dog to retrieve things if she’s there, or without shame, ask for assistance when she isn’t. You’ve got to help me! I can’t even cut an apple!” I exclaimed while gesturing towards my injured thumb.

I’m sure Dr. S. has heard exasperated – even desperate demands for an answer all too often. He sat there a minute digesting all I said. I have a feeling that after all the tests have been run and all efforts at rehabilitation are exhausted, his response is at times, “I’ve got nuthin’

However, he got a lightbulb look on his face and turned to his computer. He typed something in and then turned the screen so that I could see it.

apple slicer

Ah. An apple slicer. I bought one at Target that very weekend.

If something is difficult for you and you need a “work around“, brain-storm with a doctor, friend, or family member. Perhaps there IS a way you can do – whatever it is you are having trouble doing – safely! I think asking for opinions help others  understand that you really are striving to be independent, too.

SYTYCD (A television show called, “So You Think You Can Dance“),

if you use humor to help educate and advocate,

if you speak in plain terms to help others understand,

or if you get a bright idea from another source… simply celebrate the fact that you found a new AND SAFE way of doing things. A positive attitude goes a long way!

Denise Portis

© 2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

NOT “The End” – Turning the Page on a New Chapter

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"Hanging it Up"

“Hanging it Up”

I’m a reader. Perhaps it has something to do with having a mother who was an English teacher. Maybe it is because both my parents are readers. All I know, is that I can’t remember not having books. I lived in a rural, farming community and as it was before the “age of the Internet”, much of what we did in our free time was reading. Thanks to my mom, I have read all the “great classics”. I also grew up reading series such as “Trixie Belden”, “The Bobbsey Twins”, “Nancy Drew”, “Hardy Boys”, “Sugar-Creek Gang”, “Agatha Christie”, and “Little House on the Prairie”. I remember being SO BORED one summer that I started reading my dad’s favorite series, “Louis L’Amour” and discovered they were actually OK too!

I always felt a little melancholy when coming to the end of a good book. If it was a series, I fretfully waited for the sequel to come out. It was especially hard when the author ended a book with a “cliff-hanger”. I think that is when I started biting my nails.

I’ve had an emotional roller-coaster kind of 2015. I have been slowly easing my service dog, Chloe, into part-time work. I have already started training for a successor dog at Fidos For Freedom, Inc. In the past week, Chloe has gone from part-time working dog to “when hound dog feels like it”. I always ask her if she wants to “get dressed” and more often than not she flops her tail at me and gives me a sweet hound-dog look. “See you later, mom! I’ll be here when you get back!” 

Her vest is more often hanging on its hook, than it is being worn by faithful service dog. It has been a harder transition on me than it has been on her, and frankly? That’s the way I want it.

People notice that Chloe isn’t with me now. I suppose when you are thought of as a team, when the “cute red head” is missing, people notice. I’ve answered these questions dozens of times:

“You get to keep her, don’t you?”

“What will she do all day?”

“How will a new partner and Chloe get along?”

At first, it made me really sad to see her vest hanging on it’s hook as I walked out the door. I had an overwhelming feeling of finality. I know I’m making the right decision, but for awhile I felt like I was facing the end of a book–“The End“.

However, I realized that just like in OUR lives, finishing one chapter in life doesn’t mean the book is over. We plan to ease Chloe into therapy dog work if it is something both my husband and I can work into our schedules. If she doesn’t transition that direction, she will continue to be a beloved furry member of our family.

When the Life You Had Is Over…

One of the most disconcerting things about acquired disabilities or invisible, chronic illnesses, is that at some point you may not be able to do everything that you once were able to do. I’ve heard some people say, “Don’t ever say you CAN’T. Just find a new way of doing it!” But friends? That isn’t always realistic.

Take roller-skating for example. I love to roller-skate. I was actually pretty good at it, too. I could skate backwards, do a single axle, speed race, limbo on skates, and much more. Post balance/vestibular disorder, I can no longer skate. Sure, I could probably find various devices to prop myself up, or skate with a walker on wheels. But, I won’t be skating like I was. This doesn’t mean that I stop doing ALL extra-curricular activities. There ARE some things I can still do and do so safely. I simply started a new chapter in my book, “This is My Life“.

Some people find that after acquired disability or diagnosis, they can no longer work. Their “new normal” includes chronic pain, debilitating fatigue, or other symptoms that make it impossible for them to work “9 to 5″. However, they may find they there are some things they can do to continue earning a paycheck. There are a variety of things one can do to earn money while working at home.

Some people become volunteers and do a number of things that yield personal satisfaction and allow them to “give back”; however, the activities are not dependent on a set schedule. I know some people who no longer work due to a diagnosis, and likely do TOO MUCH as volunteers. There are so many opportunities! There are so many ways people of various abilities can do to benefit others.

If your life took an unexpected turn after a diagnosis or acquired disability, your book isn’t finished. You are just starting a new chapter.

BUT… YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. Everything in my life has changed! I cannot successfully reach goals I made a long time ago before this diagnosis. My friends have changed. My relationship status has changed. My book really is approaching “The End”. 

Perhaps your life really did experience a 180 change in direction. Some of my favorite books are part of a SERIES. The book may have ended, but there is a sequel. Set new goals. Make new friends. Do new things. I have found that some of the most rewarding experiences I have had were the direct result of my embracing my own “new normal”. I stopped trying to be the Denise I was before hearing loss and Meniere’s disease. The people I have met, the job that I have, and the organizations in which I am involved would have never been a part of my life if I hadn’t been forced to start a new chapter, or even a new book in a part of a series.

Hanging your vest up? Have major changes happened in your life? Your story isn’t finished. The chapter may be done. The book may even be finished. Your story is NOT complete.

Writer’s block? Network with others who have similar diagnosis as you do. See what they do to volunteer, serve, or even jobs and careers they may have. It’s never too late to go back to school! Many older adults sit in my classrooms taking classes to earn a degree and prepare them for something new. Gone are the days where all my students were 18 and 19 years old.

From an editorial review of “The Story of My Life” by Helen Keller: “Many of her later works were largely autobiographical, but there was always an emphasis on the inherent power of the individual to journey through life with hope. The Story of My Life is the first chapter in such a journey.”

If your life has significantly changed, it is simply the end of a chapter. Your story – your journey continues.

Denise Portis

© 2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Retiring My Service Dog

By request, I am transferring a copy of this to “Hearing Elmo”.

Almost "11-year-old" ChloeAlmost “11-year-old” Chloe

Dear Chloe,

I started asking questions of other veteran teams about a year ago. I started to notice some things about your energy level throughout the day. You were always great about taking naps when the time was available to do so. It helped keep your tail wagging and enabled you to always be on your toes when I needed you. Lower energy levels coupled with some obvious pain when your packmate, Tyco, hit your back clued us in that something else was up. I noticed that if someone reached down to pet you with heavy hand you’d shy away or even yelp. Your beloved vet verified you had developed arthritis in your spine. We tried a variety of helps and eventually found something that didn’t make you walk around like a zombie but kept your pain at bay. I tried to ignore what my heart was telling me. I’d deliberately think of other things; things like those early years.

Alerting to my cell phone jingleAlerting to my cell phone jingle

Do you remember?

… when you first learned to alert to my cell phone ringing? We had practiced all day. That evening, you calmly lay by the tub while I indulged in a bubble bath. Evidently my phone rang, because the next thing I knew both you and the phone were in the tub with me. I guess all those bubbles did look like a solid surface.

Do you remember?

… when I learned awfully darn quickly to carefully search through the laundry basket before lifting it up if you were doing a PERFECT POINT towards the hidden cat in the warm, dry clothes?

Do you remember?

… when you came running in the office and popped me in the chest – something not at all allowed? I corrected you and made you lay down and you hopped right back up and popped me in the chest again. So I followed you – down the stairs and into the laundry room where a fire had started. Right as I entered the laundry room, the smoke alarm went off. You were more reliable than the smoke alarm.

Do you remember?

… flying all over the country speaking at various conventions and conferences for the Hearing Loss Association of America? You were always such a great ambassador for service dogs and for Fidos For Freedom, Inc. You accompanied me to speak at a Cochlear America’s convention. It didn’t matter if we were speaking on Capitol Hill, or a local chapter of people with hearing loss, you were a friendly, hard-working service dog wherever we went.

Do you remember?

… being on television because we were kicked out of the Francis Scott Key Mall in Frederick, in spite of your good looks? We couldn’t convince security that you were a service dog and that it was a violation of the ADA to not allow the service dog that helped me be independent into the mall with me. Mall management apologized, we did a training, and your mug was in newspapers and video feeds everywhere. What a great ambassador you are!

Do you remember?

… when my balance disorder become much worse and I cried myself to sleep almost every night? You’d lick my face and snuggle close and were simply “there” for me.

Do you remember?

… when I noticed a student struggling and asked to meet with them after class? We all sat down and I asked “Is everything, OK?” You stood up and walked over and put your chin on their knee. The floodgates opened and we discovered the tragic circumstances this young man was trying to deal with on his own and were able to get him the help he needed. You were always so good at reaching out to students in need.

Always so happy in stores...Always so happy in stores…

Do you remember?

… how every store employee in all the stores we frequent, eventually learned your name and had to say hello to you? You’d bow and then wag your tail. Oh my goodness, all the items you’ve picked up for me over the years! I have grown so accustomed to not having to ask people for help.

Do you remember?

… running home to bark at the door for dad after I slipped and rolled down the hill and hit a tree? We thought I had also broken my ankle, but it was only sprained. You went all that way back to the house by yourself and got help. You didn’t complain that I had to use a walker for 5 weeks.

Do you remember?

… all the trainings at Fidos For Freedom? All the DEMOS, information booths, and community awareness activities? Girl? You shine.

Finally brave enough to do stairs...Finally brave enough to do stairs…

Do you remember?

… when I was finally brave enough to try stairs? If a national park like Harper’s Ferry did not have elevators, walking paths were impossible for me. You allowed me to hike again. Thank you.

all the re-certification tests we've done together! Wow!all the re-certification tests we’ve done together! Wow!

Do you remember?

… all the re-certification tests we’ve done? You sailed through your requirements each year while I sweat out the written part of the test. Oh for your calm, hound dog!

Do you remember?

… being the topic of NUMEROUS posts on Hearing Elmo, my now fourteen-year-old blog for people with acquired disabilities?

Do you know how many lives you have touched? What a difference you’ve made in my life, and in the life of others!

Do you know how much I love you? I love you enough to let you retire even though I miss you desperately when I go to work on the days you are now staying home. I love you enough to let you rest, and play, and be a beloved pet. I love you enough to support you in your second career and let you be the therapy dog you’ve always wanted to be. I love you enough to phase you out of donning your vest each morning. I love you enough that I miss having you by my side 24/7, but love you enough to know you are sleeping and resting at home – waiting for me to come home so that you can cover me with Chloe kisses.

Thank you for being my partner, Chloe. You have given me independence and confidence to help me realize my dreams and to be involved in the disability community. Thank you, for loving me unconditionally and teaching me to do the same. Enjoy retirement, my red-headed sweetheart. You deserve it!

Your partner,

Denise

Tree Hugger

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2015-04-11 19.08.33

The weather is finally feeling “Spring like”. The trees are all budding out and blooms galore, decorate my neighborhood. It ain’t all good. *achoooo* – but allergies seem a small price to pay for such pretty walking weather.

A couple of days ago, I ventured out of my immediate neighborhood and down a nearby walking trail. I’ve posted about beavers and bullfrogs in other posts as the path stretches along the perimeter of a small pond. At “the bend in the path” where the trail takes a sharp right turn, a huge tree was cut down. This was supposedly done to insure the path remained semi-straight. When I first saw it last year after this section of the trail was finished, I grieved a little seeing that this huge tree was chopped down and for the apparent reason it was hauled away. I haven’t been down this path in months and months. When I got closer to the remains of this giant, I looked for the scarred stump. I was surprised at what I saw. Every which way, new growth and small branches, sprouted from the stump.

I almost became a “tree hugger“. Not in the traditional “activist” sense, but I was so excited to see that it had persevered! I even took a few steps off the path to see how to approach for a hug. Seeing no great way to latch on and SQUEEZE, I instead reached out and calmly high five’d a small branch closest to me. I stood and silently celebrated the fact that this tree was still alive, determined to continue in spite of being chopped down!

Have You Felt the Woodsman’s Axe?

I turn 49 this year. Honestly, growing older doesn’t bother me in the least. Yet, because I have acquired disabilities, I have to admit that where I am is NOT where I thought I’d be. Don’t get wrong.

I feel good about me. I still have goals. I strive to make a difference. I love what I do. I have good days and bad days. There have been days I have really felt cut down.

AXED.

For many with acquired disability, chronic illness or invisible (or visible) conditions, much energy and focus is geared towards being independent. We don’t want to be a “bother” or put people out. I stopped trying to “fit in” a long time ago. I don’t hear normally. I don’t walk or stand normally. As I have become comfortable in my own skin, others have learned to accept me just the way I am as well.

But sometimes? Well, sometimes someone comes by with a wicked, sharp axe and hacks away at me, chipping away at who I am. Do you know what sucks? Sometimes the woodsman is someone I know well. Do you have people in your life who tell you “for your own good” to suck it up? “If you didn’t go around making a big deal about your disabilities, you would fit in better!” “Well aren’t you the DRAMA QUEEN?” “I’d never know something was wrong with you if you didn’t go around with a service dog!” (As if it never occurred to them I’m independent BECAUSE of the service dog).

There will be times we feel “cut down” because it is JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER. I have some friends (those I call family, really) who have significant challenges. A few of them have really had a tough year. One took a significant fall in a store and is STILL recovering as the injury fall out was compounded by her MS. I have another friend with MS who is a stroke survivor. Her husband is now dealing with significant health issues. A young woman I got to know through Fidos For Freedom (who also writes) has a terminal illness and things seemed to go from bad to worse for her this year. These warriors have been chopped away.

Yet people with disabilities and chronic illness are stubborn. We persevere. If anyone “keeps on keeping’ on” it’s us! There is not any person with ANY challenge that cannot explode with new growth in the Spring. Winter is harsh. Axes are sharp. Bad stuff happens. But friends? Life isn’t over. Good can come from this.

Spring is here. Have you had a tough Winter? Did someone take an axe to you? You still matter. You can still make a difference. You are important. It’s Spring. Time to bust out in blooms or branch out in new growth. Don’t make me come fertilize you. :-)

You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good in order to bring about this present result. Genesis 50:20 (NASB)

Denise Portis

©2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Embracing It!

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"So... tell me the truth. How does this look?" (Terry) "Baby? You are rockin' that helmet!"

“So… tell me the truth. How does this look?” (Terry) “Baby? You are rockin’ that helmet!”

I believe that there are very legitimate reasons for people who choose to keep invisible disabilities invisible. I respect their choice and their reasons for doing so. In many circumstances, it makes “good sense” and isn’t at all about vanity or shame.

I am “all out there” for lack of a better way to put it. In my profession, in my life, in the community service arenas I’m involved in, and for personal safety reasons, making my invisible disabilities – visible is the right thing to do.

I wear bling on my implant. I think it is fun. It puts a smile on my face. I’m so SO thrilled to be hearing again. The progression of my hearing loss took 12 painful years. I was completely deaf for almost two, silently researching and investigating cochlear implants. I’m so proud to be hearing again. Some say I’m flaunting it. Ummm…

YEAH.

If you do not want to bring attention to disabilities, do not ever choose to be partnered with a service dog. Even though our dogs are taught to be nearly invisible (and don’t you know folks are always startled when I get up to leave restaurants because they had no clue my dog was there?), when you walk through a store or into a doctor’s office, your service dog will bring attention to the fact that “something is different about you”. It has been a very long time since working dogs were only trained to be guide dogs. There are diabetic alert dogs, seizure alert dogs, autism dogs, PTSD service dogs, mobility assist dogs, balance assist dogs, alzheimer assist dogs, hearing assistance dogs, and the list goes on! My service dog makes me more independent. I don’t have to ask for help nearly as often. I don’t miss things (sounds my CI won’t pick up), and I’m confident and more safe. But choosing to have a service dog will bring attention to you.

When my Meniere’s disease worsened, I finally realized that 3-5 falls a week were too many. When I have my cane, I stumble maybe 3-4 times a week, but rarely go all the way down. I average only 2-3 falls a month now. I have three canes. They are bright, bold, and beautiful. I don’t try to hide that I carry a cane with me.

I love to be outside. Perhaps it’s the “farm girl” in me, but I love to be outside and love to walk. Just because I have a balance disorder does not mean that I am going to stop walking. Yet… I seemed to have trouble doing it safely. Even with cane and service dog, I was still taking tumbles when the roads or sidewalks were bad. Winter is my favorite season. I love snow, love ice, love “visible breath” in the air… but I have had some bad winters, 3 years in a row. As a matter of fact, when perusing my medical records with my neurologist, I was averaging 2 concussions each year, usually in Winter months. My last mild concussion was March 8th. I have a follow up with my neuro the first week of May. At the last appointment, he said, “You know. You need a helmet for when you walk!”

I laughed and said, “all my friends tell me I need to be wrapped in bubble wrap or need to wear a helmet.”

He looked at me eye-ball to eye-ball and said, “You don’t understand. I’m being serious. You CANNOT continue having concussions”.

Oh.

OH.

NO FREAKING WAY!

I sat there a little stunned for a minute but then began to consider the possibilities. I’m not afraid of what people think. I don’t care about what is fashionable – heck I consider myself a “disability-advocate fashion expert”. But could I embrace a helmet for walking when road and sidewalk conditions were bad?

I decided that yes… Yes, I could!

So I started researching, (cuz, yeah, that’s what I do) and found the helmet I wanted. I was crazy ecstatic that it is called a … “Brainsaver“! Ain’t it great? *BEAMS*

Triple 8 Brainsaver Rubber helmet with Liner in Rasta Yellow

Triple 8 Brainsaver Rubber helmet with Liner in Rasta Yellow

I blinged up the helmet with some of my favorite stickers, (I’m a nut for daisies), and now I’m all set for walking. I even fixed the liner where my cochlear implant magnet had a little place to “rest” inside so it would not get pushed off.

I realize my approach to MY LIFE may not work for you. However, I love embracing who I am and holding my head high. I want to be an example to others, but I certainly know and understand that it is “different strokes for different folks”.

I hope I can report this time next year that I haven’t sustained any new concussions. Yay for me, and yay for neurologists who push to get their patients to take their brains seriously.

Denise Portis

© 2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

How Can I Redefine Me?

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redefine

I stopped looking at myself as “disabled” a long time ago. I am, however, quite comfortable with being a person with disabilities. A friend, fellow-client at Fidos For Freedom, Inc., and blogger, was the first person I ever heard use the words, “differently abled”.

I have to tell you that sometimes I’m really feeling my disabilities. It can make me discouraged and frustrated. So many of us who live with disabilities or chronic illnesses often gripe, “I’d like just ONE DAY of feeling normal”. 

I’ve become very comfortable with being a “hearing again”, cochlear implant recipient and “late-deafened” (without my technology). I’ve even grown accustomed to having a vestibular disorder (Meniere’s disease). I use a cane, have a service dog, and bedazzle my cochlear implant with some amount of pride and transparency.

One thing I’m not OK with is concussions. I’ve had a lot. I was even told I had “post-concussive syndrome” after a moderate concussion in 2013. “You know… like football players have.” But…

I don’t play football.

My neurologist had me do ten weeks of vestibular rehab. This was actually a fantastic experience and I learned all kinds of tricks, most importantly how to fall safely – cuz I’m going to fall. Sure, I learned all the great things to minimize the possibility of falling, but I will take some tumbles. So I learned how to unlock my knees and SIT (albeit without any grace) to avoid falls. In spite of this, stuff just happens. And you know what? I get mad.

March 8

Take March 8th for example. There was some ice and lingering snow everywhere. I prepared to walk – which means I had my no-slip boots on, my tripod cane, and service dog (who is off vest but heels like the pro she is). I bundled up and made sure my charged cell phone is in a buttoned down pocket. I don’t use my cell phone while walking. No ear buds or attachments either – No listening to music. I pay attention when I walk. (Well, I also talk to my dog but that was the topic of another post).

So when I crossed a street and fell backwards on the ice I actually felt MAD on the way down. I had taken all these precautions! The back of my head actually BOUNCED on the road. Right before I blacked out I thought…

THIS SUCKS. 

I wasn’t out very long (I rarely am). I suffered with a headache for 4 days and made an appointment with my neurologist. (Follow up in May)

I remember thinking after texting my husband and making my way the rest of the way home, that I do not like being this person. I don’t like being the fall guy (get it?). By the time I walked the 2 blocks towards home, Terry met me and I sat on the porch for a good cry. After eliminating some of that tension (and freaking my husband out), I sat there to think (and yes, hold ice on my head). I kept thinking, “This isn’t who I am. I am not the walking, talking concussion waiting to happen. I have GOT to get a handle on this.” I needed to redefine myself. I’m NOT a fall guy. I’m a very careful person who sometimes sits quickly. I sit when I’m lucky… and when I’m not that’s OK. I have plan for that, too. I’m thinking a hockey helmet when the roads and walks are bad. Imagine how I can bedazzle THAT.

Your Thoughts Matter

Two hours before my fall, the pastor of my church (Weem’s Creek) spoke about courageous faith. Do you know that people with disabilities and chronic illness are some of the most courageous people I know? Here are some of his main points. If you aren’t a person of faith, read on anyway. This can easily pertain to anyone. If you are a person of faith you may be like me and think, “Well why have I never seen this before?”

1. To live a courageous faith, we must cultivate a habit of thinking thoughts that are from God. Instead of focusing on not thinking wrong thoughts, we need to focus on thinking right thoughts.

2. We can’t always control the thoughts we have, but we can control the thoughts we hold. We need to learn to hold the thoughts that are true, noble and excellent… those from God.

3. Meditate on God’s Word, not on our misery.

I think ATTITUDE is the real disability. If you can change your attitude, you will never feel disabled. Change your attitude – and that new attitude will CHANGE YOU.

I think of it as redefining me – redefining what having a disability means. My focus is on what I can do. I pour energy into discovering how to do things that I want to do – perhaps differently (using canine, technology, or assistance). This keeps our disabilities from defining US.

Be careful to acknowledge that everyone has a personal “definition”. Just because you may have a hearing loss too, doesn’t mean we define who we are the same. Being in control of our own definition (even if we need a necessary “redefine”), also helps others see us how we see ourselves.

It may take some work. I have a colleague at work who constantly tries to “help”. I finally told her one day, “watch how I do things WITHOUT your assistance”. That shut her up, made her watch… and don’t you know she learned so much? She told me later she just assumed I needed help. Having a disability does not mean you are “not able”. Most of us find very unique ways to be VERY abled.

Are you at a point in your life where you need a little redefining? Perhaps you have believed some of the “hype” about what you cannot do because of your diagnosis. Redefine yourself and hopefully change both your attitude and how others see you.

redefine4

 

L. Denise Portis

© 2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

 

When They SHOULD… but they DON’T

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support

Do you know the #1 topic of emails to Hearing Elmo (or face-to-face for those of you who know me personally) is support or the lack thereof? I have not met a single person with acquired disability, chronic illness, or invisible condition that took on their “new normal” by choice. We need support.

People need other people. I don’t care if you are an introvert and “loner”, or a gregarious, extrovert. All of us need human connections to some degree. I hypothesize that those of us who live with acquired disability, chronic illness, or other invisible condition may need solid, supportive relationships even more than those who do not face daily challenges. Coping is TOUGH stuff, and geesh… don’t I hate we don’t burn calories for all the work we put into COPING? In psychology,  we have a special term for how important our relationships are to adjustment – psychosocial adaptation. Bishop (2005) explains this better than I could: Psychosocial adaptation “may be conceived as a process of responding to the functional, psychological, and social changes that occur with the onset and experience of living with a disability, chronic illness, or associated treatments” (p. 6). There is a ridiculous amount of research on how important relationships are to an individual’s psychosocial adaptation. Intimate relationships are imperative to the quality of life for individuals who are differently-abled. All very interesting STUFF, in my humble opinion, but not at all the goal of or intended topic of this post.

Intimate Relationships

When we hear the word “intimate” we may think of sexual expression. Maybe we think of fancy-smancy underwear. (So aren’t “we” the weird ones?). Intimate relationships are interpersonal relationships that are physically OR emotionally intimate. This means that we can have close friends or family members who have an intimate personal relationship with us in that they know us very well. We have let down our guards at some point and shared things with them that others have no clue about nor care. Yes, intimacy is often physical as well, and those of us who have a physically intimate partner in a spouse or significant other, count it a major blessing to also be a friend to this individual.

Our expectation of our intimate relationships is “through thick and thin” (and I don’t mean WEIGHT). We expect these folks to love us on our good days and our bad days. We know we can belly-ache to them and they won’t think less of us. For those of us who took traditional vows, we put a lot of faith in “till death do us part”. These folks know us – and love us anyway.

When acquired disability or chronic illness enters a life unexpectedly, we rest in the knowledge that our spouse or significant other, and intimate connections with friends and family members will strengthen us and help us adapt. We have this HOPE and expectation, yet so many share with me that they were let down by someone they had counted on to BE THERE for them. Some of you have even had to deal with broken relationships. Others may have partners and friendships that have stuck like super-glue, but you cannot help but feel as if you are a burden and that these folks feel “stuck” with you.

Perhaps someone shared with you that they get tired of how tired you are. Maybe they shared or insinuated that life with you sure is HARD. As if things weren’t hard enough, someone you depend on is tired of your diagnosis too? Thanks so much for that…

I know. Not a single person reading this post hasn’t at some point wished they could have just ONE day of normalcy. “If I could just have 24 hours of normal, it would re-set my gripe-o-meter box”, shared a long-time reader. Yup. I get that! So for someone in our intimate circle to complain that they are tired of all that WE are tired of? It’s enough to make you want to spit. Or hit someone. Or SPIT while HITTING someone…

So what do you do when you realize that those who support you are having trouble supporting you? I have three tidbits to share.

1. If the Shoe Were On the Other Foot

Please don’t lash out and tell your significant bozos (cuz at the point you are mad at them for their lack of support means they have morphed from close relationships to close BOZOS), that if things were “the other way around” you would TOTALLY be there for them – ALWAYS.

This, my friends, is impossible to prove. YOU are the one dealing with a significant, life-changing diagnosis. We don’t know how we would react to “the shoe being on the other foot”. Criticizing and attacking another by insisting we would support and behave differently is not fair, nor is it justified. There are numerous studies that support that stress and anxiety can be vicarious experiences by those who support people who are struggling.

I believe one of the very best things we can do for those who support us is to acknowledge up front that WE KNOW THIS IS HARD ON THEM TOO.

2. Engage in Active Listening

All relationships benefit from active listening. Active listening was made popular by psychologist, Carl Rogers, in the 50’s. Many different counseling approaches now incorporate active listening to engage in good communication. One of the best descriptions of active listening that I’ve read can be found HERE. It is five WONDERFUL pages of all that is Active Listening. So I’m not going to take the time to explain it here and instead am giving you a “homework assignment” <wink>.

3. Yes, They Should. But… They Don’t

I cannot boast of 100% supportive relationships, nor brag that I’ve handled my own acquired disabilities with grace and diplomacy. Even though I’m in a “good place” right now with numerous supportive relationships, I have been disappointed by some of my relationships, and have even lost some folks along the way.

It hurts.

The biggest mistake one can make in shouldering all that encompasses living with significant challenges, is trying to do it alone. You are not alone.

For one thing, you are reading THIS. I care.

The Internet insures that we are NOT alone. The Internet is accessible to even those with significant challenges. If your intimate relationships and friendships have let you down, please know that you need others. Find them.

Places you can find support:

1. The newspaper: Many list various support groups and networks available for numerous types of challenges and health issues.

2. Churches: Many have support groups and networks available to both members and non-members.

3. Libraries: Many have community services bulletin boards (both physical and on-site, as well as electronic) that list numerous support groups.

4. Online forums: One only has to “Google” their diagnosis to find numerous avenues of support online. One great searchable database can be found HERE.

5. National non-profit and for-profit organizations: Most diagnosis also have organizations that provide education, advocacy, and support at the local, state, and national levels. Search the Internet for organizations that provide resources for your specific population. Many have support networks as well.

6. FaceBook and other Social Media Outlets: You’d be surprised what support resources are available on FaceBook. Many are closed groups as well as have confidentiality tenants of membership.

7. Start your own: I’m not a big fan of “wiki” anything (I suppose it is the teacher in me), but I have to admit, WikiHow did this up right. Check it out HERE.

Cut ‘Em Some Slack

Finally, I’d be a poor advocate if I didn’t give you heads up that people are going to disappoint you. Forgive them.

You are going to have a really bad day and need all kinds of support, practically draining those around you DRY. Dehydrated people can lash out. Forgive them.

You will struggle with having to live your life yet another day – so very tired of it all. Someone will point this out. Mock you. Complain about you. Forgive them.

Someone will try really hard to support you and come up short. Their personality or own needs simply do not allow them to be exactly what you need them to be. Forgive them – and support THEM.

You are going to have the kind of day where you are just done with EVERYONE. You burn your bridges, isolate yourself, and find yourself very, very alone. Forgive yourself. And rebuild.

Denise Portis

©2015 Personal Hearing Loss Journal

Bishop, M. (2005). Quality of Life and Psychosocial Adaptation to Chronic Illness and Acquired Disability: A Conceptual and Theoretical Synthesis. Journal Of Rehabilitation71(2), 5-13.

Rogers, C. R., & Farson, R. E. (1957). Active listening. Lexington, Massachusetts: D.C. Heath and Company.

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