I'm 47 and My Hearing is A Threat to Society

I don’t know when it happened. There was no announcement. No gradual fade. No warning from my body like, “Hey, just a heads up, we’re about to stop processing sound correctly.”

One day, I could hear.
The next day?
Absolutely not.

I am 47 years old and my hearing is doing whatever the fuck it wants, whenever the fuck it wants, with zero regard for safety, courtesy, or basic human decency.



I Can’t Hear You, But Don’t Yell at Me

Let me explain something.

I cannot hear shit.

But also — don’t raise your voice at me.

Because now I’m offended.

This is a very specific contradiction, and I live in it daily.

People will be talking, and I’m nodding along like I understand every word, meanwhile my brain caught maybe three syllables and filled in the rest with vibes.

And I don’t realize I missed something until it’s too late to ask “what?” without looking stupid.

So now I’m just agreeing to shit I didn’t hear.

That’s dangerous.



The Jump Scare Problem (Why I’m Always Startled)

Here’s how I found out my hearing was officially broken.

I’ll be sitting somewhere — couch, bed, chair — minding my own goddamn business. Peaceful. Calm.

Then my son will come out of his room and say my name.

Not yelling.
Not screaming.
Just saying it.

And I will jump like someone fired a gun in the house.

My wig?
GONE.

Heart racing.
Soul leaving my body.

And he’s standing there like: “I said your name.”

WHY DID I NOT HEAR YOU WALK UP???

How long were you standing there??

Were you watching me???

Because apparently my ears did not register ANY PRESENCE until sound directly entered my face.

This is terrifying.



My Hearing Has a Proximity Requirement

I’ve realized my hearing now comes with conditions.

You cannot talk to me from another room.
You cannot talk to me from behind.
You cannot talk to me casually.

You must be:
• in my line of sight
• facing me
• preferably close

If not, your lips can be moving and I will hear NOTHING.

It’s like my ears need visual confirmation now.

Which brings us to the most confusing part of all.



WHY CAN I HEAR BETTER WITH MY GLASSES ON??

Explain this to me.

I take my glasses off, and suddenly I can’t hear you.

Your mouth is moving.
I see the effort.
I appreciate it.

But the sound?
Not making it to my brain.

As soon as I put my glasses back on?

BOOM.

Sound restored.

What kind of Bluetooth-ass body malfunction is this???

Why do my eyes and ears need to be synced??

Am I lip-reading without realizing it???

Because this feels suspicious.



Driving With Me Is a Hazard

Now let’s talk about driving.

Because my hearing problems do not stop me from doing reckless things.

My music stays LOUD.

Not “oh that’s a little loud.”
LOUD.

Because I need to FEEL the sound, not just hear it.

Which means I have absolutely driven through town completely unaware that:
• fire trucks
• police cars
• ambulances

were screaming past me with lights on.

I don’t hear shit.

I see the lights and I’m like: “Oh damn, my bad.”

Sirens used to scare me.

Now they sneak up on me.

That feels illegal.




Selective Hearing or System Failure?

People love to say: “You just don’t listen.”

No.

I AM LISTENING.

The signal is just not coming through clean.

This is not selective hearing.

This is a system failure.

My brain is buffering.

And if there’s background noise? Forget it.

TV on.
Music on.
Fan running.

You might as well send a text.



The ‘Huh?’ Phase of Life

I say “huh?” a lot now.

Sometimes twice.

Sometimes three times.

And by the third time, I’m embarrassed, so I just smile and pretend I heard you.

Which is how misunderstandings happen.

This is how people end up thinking I agreed to things I absolutely did not agree to.

Because I did not hear them.



Why This Is Actually a Problem

This shit is funny — until it’s not.

Because not hearing properly means:
• I miss details
• I miss tone
• I miss warnings

And that’s not cute.

It’s also exhausting trying to keep up.

I be tired from LISTENING.



The Real Betrayal: Nobody Warned Me

Nobody talks about hearing loss like this.

We talk about eyesight.
We talk about memory.
We talk about sleep.

Nobody said:

> “Oh by the way, sound will stop making sense.”



Nobody said I’d need:
• eye contact
• proximity
• reduced background noise
• and a prayer

to understand basic conversation.



My Body Is Clearly Freestyling

At this point, I’ve accepted something.

My body is no longer following the manual.

It’s improvising.

Bladder? Wild.
Memory? Gone.
Eyesight? Rebellious.
Taste buds? In a conspiracy.
Sleep? Optional.
Hearing? Absolutely unreliable.

I am one malfunction away from becoming a liability.


Final Thoughts From a 47-Year-Old Who Needs You to Face Her When You Talk

If you speak to me and I don’t respond, I promise I’m not ignoring you.

I just didn’t hear you.

If you scare the shit out of me by saying my name from three feet away, you might want to duck or watch my arms, because I might swing.

That’s on you....

And if my music is loud and I miss sirens?

Mind your business.

I am doing my best with the equipment I’ve been given.



Conclusion: Yes, My Hearing Is a Threat to Society

Because I can’t hear warnings.
I can’t hear casual conversation.
I can’t hear you unless you’re in my face.

And yet, I’m still out here driving, working, parenting, and existing.

Which feels irresponsible.

But here we are.