By Libby Byxbee
Libby getting her first pair of hearing aids.
I sometimes wish my friends never knew I wear hearing aids. From elementary school all the way to high school, it has just been a known fact, a background detail like my hair color, so I never really talked about it with them.
But when I was younger, I carried this weird weight, believing the people I was close with had to know like it was some massive part of my identity that they deserved to know.
When I was about 11 years old, I was with my team at a water polo tournament in California. Everyone on the team was a close friend, but there was one girl in particular I was especially tight with, and for some reason, I felt this intense pressure to tell her. So, after our team dinner, as we were heading out the door, I just said it bluntly: “I wear hearing aids.”
I expected a shocked gasp or a million questions, but it was quickly followed by a somewhat confused, “Oh! Okay,” and we continued our conversation about the game without skipping a beat.
I was totally put off by her response. I remember standing there wondering why she didn’t care, and then it clicked: No one cared if I wore hearing aids back then, and no one cares now.
When I was younger, I convinced myself that my hearing aids defined me, that I was just “the girl with hearing aids.” I thought everyone who looked at me saw the plastic behind my ears before they saw me. But this moment made me realize that it never mattered. My aha moment then came, no one saw me differently except myself.
Hearing Health magazine staff writer Libby Byxbee is a high school student in Connecticut. She has a bilateral moderate to severe hearing loss.
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Then it clicked: No one cared if I wore hearing aids back then, and no one cares now.