Why I, as a Hard-of-Hearing Person, Write

Why do I love writing so much?

I had a sudden thought, so I want to write it down here.

I was born hard of hearing.
Perhaps because I was born prematurely, I returned a little bit of my hearing to the sky.

Following my two older brothers, I attended schools for the hearing through elementary and junior high.
I went to schools where everyone could hear.

For 15 years, I lived in a world where hearing with my ears and speaking with my voice were the norm, even though it was a world where TV sounds, high-pitched noises, train announcements, and women's voices were virtually silent.

Since everyone in my family can hear except for me, they naturally communicate using oral language.
They use oral communication to talk.

I understand words by reading the shape of people's mouths.
In other words, it is lip-reading.

For example, even if I am facing a glass window and cannot hear any sound,
I can understand the words the other person is saying.

I can understand the content of what is being said on TV news or in dramas,
though not perfectly, I can grasp it to some extent.

From the perspective of those around me, it might seem amazing.

However, for me, it is a very difficult task.

It is like running at full speed the moment I wake up in the morning.
Breakfast, getting ready, school or work, and then running at full speed until I come home and go to sleep—that is how my day ends.
That is the feeling I have.

It uses up all of my physical strength and mental energy.
While fatigue accumulates day by day, the strain on my eyes also becomes significant.

Let me give you a slightly easier example.

You are Japanese.
You only understand Japanese.

Imagine you are all alone in a foreign land.

You don't know what the people around you are saying,
and you cannot convey what you want to say well.
When you ask them to repeat themselves, they act as if they've given up on you.

When people wear masks, it is almost completely silent for me.
I can tell there is sound, but I cannot understand the words.

The world I live in is exactly like that.

My ears can identify sounds and grasp words if I take the time to get used to them.
I can understand the sounds of motorcycles and cars, and men's voices.

I can recognize the sounds of motorcycles, cars, and men's voices.

However, I simply cannot hear mechanical sounds or women's voices, so I was bad at music class and talking to women.
I was bad at music class and talking to women.

As an adolescent, even though I wanted to be popular like my two older brothers, I couldn't even hold a conversation, so I was very bad at making friends.
I was very bad at making friends.

Because I was bad at it, I would watch how friends would tease each other to get along and just imitate that.
I would watch the scene of friends teasing each other to become close and just imitate it.

Then, I gradually started to be disliked.
I didn't understand how to communicate before teasing them.

My mother

"When you borrow something from someone, you have to say 'please lend it to me'"

She taught me that many times.

Even now, she talks about it like a funny story.

That was when a turning point arrived.

I encountered sign language.

Words that I couldn't see until now
were conveyed through hands, and words I didn't know
started to make sense one after another.

I was 15 years old.

I thought I had to understand my own ears more deeply,
so I decided to transfer to a school for the deaf,
a school where people who cannot hear gather.

Since then,
as if to vent all the frustration I had built up until then,
I started using my hands to have conversations.

I learned the finger alphabet in one hour,
and learning sign language in just three months is a small point of pride for me.

I remember being happy just to see visible words.

To me, being unable to hear
is the same as being unable to see.

Only noise raced around my ears,
and I couldn't join any circles.
I always felt lonely.

If I may say so without being misunderstood,
if a blind person cannot feel light,
then I could not feel hope.

Why won't you understand me!
That feeling alone would run ahead,
and I would often end up
causing trouble for those around me.

Looking back now, I can only think of how childish I was.

As I began to converse using my hands,
I felt the charm of language.

The words you use casually
were as fresh to me as if I had just learned them.

I, who did not know words, began to crave them.

Just as one gets thirsty, I was overwhelmingly lacking in words.
I was lacking too much.

I would read five books a day,
or debate with friends for hours,
just wanting to make up for lost time.

Thanks to my friends being kind,
I was able to have a very fulfilling school life in high school.

Having come to love words,
I began to think about what my weapon was.

I wanted to make the words I loved my weapon.
But there are incredible masters of language in this world.

I had no intention of winning, but I also had no intention of losing,
so I wanted to have the only weapon that I alone could compete with.

And then, I found it.

And it's right here close to me.

It was my ears.

My ears are fickle and convenient.

Though they are a nuisance to me,
my hearing loss was my weapon.

Because I hear less than others,
I am more sensitive than anyone to the information I gain through my eyes.

Because I am sensitive, I thought,
could I not wield words as a second blade?

If I am able to notice perspectives that no one else sees thanks to the visual information I have cultivated over many years,
I believe that is undoubtedly thanks to my hearing loss.

I like to write by imagining the scenery the other person is seeing.

Before anything about hearing loss, I just love writing words.
Ever since that day I thirsted for words.

However, there is one thing I want to say.

If I didn't have hearing loss,
I think I would have remained oblivious to writing.

I don't think I would have had the courage to share information.

Let alone take on challenges.

Hearing loss made me hungry.

There were many painful and difficult times, but
I think hearing loss is a gift from God.
I truly feel glad that I have hearing loss.

I am now deeply into music, which I used to be bad at,
to the point where I write lyrics and compose as a hobby.

This is the reason why I, as a hard of hearing person, write.

Thank you for reading until the end.
Please be sure to like and follow.
Your likes are my encouragement.