Hear Me Out?
Posted: Thu Jul 14, 2011 4:57 pm
I am in that arduous and egotistical process of attempting to better myself. To that end, I have done the fashionable thing: I am seeing a therapist. In my own subjective view, I am riddled with flaws, things I would embrace in others but cannot seem to forgive in myself. With the purpose of self-improvement in mind, my therapist decided it would be a good idea for me to write down my thoughts and my feelings… I have decided to share it with you, instead. I do not know you, but I will share a deeper intimacy with you than I have ever shared with anyone. I will make no apologies, this is for my own sake, but if any can derive any lesson from it then perhaps it will not have been in vain. I am not trying to gain sympathy, you should not feel sorry for me. Through all the things I will share with you, I have never forgotten what a truly amazing thing it is to be alive, how fortunate I am. We all have our burdens to carry, our own secret sorrows. No, I do not want your sympathy, or your support...
I share this with you, because I want to feel understood.
I know absolutely nothing about the woman who gave birth to me, nor do I care to. I do not know the reason she did not want me, I suspect it may have been due to my “disability.” This is no bad thing, however, and indeed is the best thing that could have happened to me. Had she stayed, I have no doubt my life would be significantly worse than it is, as she could not have had a caring bone in her body if my “disability” really was the reason she did not want me. If that was the case, then I do not want her either. You see, I was born profoundly deaf. Regardless, I was a very happy, bubbly baby who didn’t seem to notice she was missing out on anything. My earliest memory was being confused, of trying to get to grips with the concept of what other children were trying to do when they tried to speak with me. I was however, fortunate enough to have the best foster parents anyone could ask for, they were patient, understanding, they even learned sign language themselves in order to teach me.
Over the years, I have become very adept at making myself understood, even to those who cannot sign. I can lip read very well, though most people slur their words of make it impossible by turning their faces when they talk. I can sense when people are talking, and I can read expressions well. I have learned to speak, but feel so self conscious about this that I never do, only three people have ever heard my voice. All of this paints me as a fairly well adjusted person, if it were not for one thing… I simply cannot connect with the vast majority of people.
Language generally, is deeply flawed. I say the word lonely, you hear the word, and your perception of it is tainted by your own ideas and experiences about what it means to fee lonely. Words may be publicly maintained, but how can I possibly believe with any certainty that you do understand? "Wherever you are, and whatever you do, you live your entire life inside your own head." Everything we experience is viewed through the veil of perception, everything we hear is coloured by our own memories and word associations. If words are flawed... Try to imagine this problem, when you cannot even speak.
It can be so isolating, silence in a world that is full of sound. I like the way I look, but when men or women approach me, I smile, I sign that I am deaf, and the conversation is simply… Over. They say something like “oh okay.” They are very polite, they are not trying to be offensive, they just assume I cannot possibly communicate with them. I have very few friends, because of this, but equally because of me. I get very nervous around groups of more than two of three, I become withdrawn, and I all back on my deafness as an excuse not to try to reach out. I have isolated myself, more than being Deaf ever could have.
I think isolation is the reason I fell in love with mathematics. I can scarcely imagine a more solitary pursuit. Maths is the universal language, it doesn’t matter what language you speak, or even if you can speak. When I’m working with others on a problem, there’s no need for words, and it is the only time I feel even close to being understood.
I am getting ready to start my masters in Pure Mathematics this September, having just achieved a first class honours degree from one of the finest universities in the world. I should be grateful, I should be on top of the world. And yet, I have never felt quite so alone. Every so often, I get this sudden blinding panic, as ridiculous as this sounds in those moments; I literally feel I am about to die. A sense of impending doom, a wild, irrational despair. I do not know what causes it, or how it started, more and more I am withdrawing into my own world of silence and I do not know why. The man who was in every way that counts, my Dad, died very suddenly when I was fourteen years old, I had idolized him beyond rationality; he was my hero. I have never felt pain or anger like that in all my life. Perhaps I have never come to terms with that. I cannot sleep, I barely eat and I very seldom go outside now. I am so very aware, of how self-involved all of this is, and I hate myself for expressing it even as I type. I have always been proud of my self-reliance, I never lean on anyone and I never complain. But as I share this with all of you, I lose even that. I feel rotten to my core.
The story of my life, is never feeling understood.
Am I wrong? Is there someone who understands…?
I share this with you, because I want to feel understood.
I know absolutely nothing about the woman who gave birth to me, nor do I care to. I do not know the reason she did not want me, I suspect it may have been due to my “disability.” This is no bad thing, however, and indeed is the best thing that could have happened to me. Had she stayed, I have no doubt my life would be significantly worse than it is, as she could not have had a caring bone in her body if my “disability” really was the reason she did not want me. If that was the case, then I do not want her either. You see, I was born profoundly deaf. Regardless, I was a very happy, bubbly baby who didn’t seem to notice she was missing out on anything. My earliest memory was being confused, of trying to get to grips with the concept of what other children were trying to do when they tried to speak with me. I was however, fortunate enough to have the best foster parents anyone could ask for, they were patient, understanding, they even learned sign language themselves in order to teach me.
Over the years, I have become very adept at making myself understood, even to those who cannot sign. I can lip read very well, though most people slur their words of make it impossible by turning their faces when they talk. I can sense when people are talking, and I can read expressions well. I have learned to speak, but feel so self conscious about this that I never do, only three people have ever heard my voice. All of this paints me as a fairly well adjusted person, if it were not for one thing… I simply cannot connect with the vast majority of people.
Language generally, is deeply flawed. I say the word lonely, you hear the word, and your perception of it is tainted by your own ideas and experiences about what it means to fee lonely. Words may be publicly maintained, but how can I possibly believe with any certainty that you do understand? "Wherever you are, and whatever you do, you live your entire life inside your own head." Everything we experience is viewed through the veil of perception, everything we hear is coloured by our own memories and word associations. If words are flawed... Try to imagine this problem, when you cannot even speak.
It can be so isolating, silence in a world that is full of sound. I like the way I look, but when men or women approach me, I smile, I sign that I am deaf, and the conversation is simply… Over. They say something like “oh okay.” They are very polite, they are not trying to be offensive, they just assume I cannot possibly communicate with them. I have very few friends, because of this, but equally because of me. I get very nervous around groups of more than two of three, I become withdrawn, and I all back on my deafness as an excuse not to try to reach out. I have isolated myself, more than being Deaf ever could have.
I think isolation is the reason I fell in love with mathematics. I can scarcely imagine a more solitary pursuit. Maths is the universal language, it doesn’t matter what language you speak, or even if you can speak. When I’m working with others on a problem, there’s no need for words, and it is the only time I feel even close to being understood.
I am getting ready to start my masters in Pure Mathematics this September, having just achieved a first class honours degree from one of the finest universities in the world. I should be grateful, I should be on top of the world. And yet, I have never felt quite so alone. Every so often, I get this sudden blinding panic, as ridiculous as this sounds in those moments; I literally feel I am about to die. A sense of impending doom, a wild, irrational despair. I do not know what causes it, or how it started, more and more I am withdrawing into my own world of silence and I do not know why. The man who was in every way that counts, my Dad, died very suddenly when I was fourteen years old, I had idolized him beyond rationality; he was my hero. I have never felt pain or anger like that in all my life. Perhaps I have never come to terms with that. I cannot sleep, I barely eat and I very seldom go outside now. I am so very aware, of how self-involved all of this is, and I hate myself for expressing it even as I type. I have always been proud of my self-reliance, I never lean on anyone and I never complain. But as I share this with all of you, I lose even that. I feel rotten to my core.
The story of my life, is never feeling understood.
Am I wrong? Is there someone who understands…?