The Social Situation Navigation…And Those People…

I love people, I love to talk, and I love a party!  I really enjoy meeting new people, hearing about others’ experiences, and maybe even picking up a few new friends along the way.  But – socializing, for me, is a lot of work – particularly when I am in a new situation with people that I have never met. There are very real limitations and parameters that are placed upon me because of my hearing loss when I find myself in a social situation.  The amount of work that is required on my part to successfully participate in and enjoy social gatherings is often hidden and unknown to others, and it is not what you might think – it is not “the background noise” of a loud room. It is far, far more involved as I will outline in today’s blog post.

The volume and background noise or even the physical set-up of the environment is challenging in its own right, but fortunately, as an adept lip-reader, I can successfully “fill in the gaps” of conversation that I may have been missing because I am watching your facial expressions and body language.  The factors that actually cause more stress and have a larger impact include some of the following: facial hair…tongue rings…weird looking lips…excess makeup…plastic surgery…Botox (your face literally doesn’t even move so I have no idea of your reactions)…accents…talking with your teeth clenched…false teeth…speaking with your hand over your mouth…excessively touching your face as you are talking to me…turning away from me while you are talking…too many people in a crowded conversation huddle…and it goes on and on and on.  My eyes are my toolbox to support my ears – I am hearing something, but the eyes are my back up. I have to be able to see your lips moving, your facial expressions and your body language to help me piece together an entire conversation.

The next level of social jockeying comes when I am in a crowd of people with multiple participants in the same conversation – it is impossible to lip read everyone at once, and the rate of conversation is quite rapid.  I often “miss the joke” and laugh along with everyone else so I can still keep up the appearance of being part of the group. Unfortunately, most of the time, I have no idea exactly what is going on – and I am looking for an opportunity to get out of this disastrous configuration.  I also have to be constantly on the move, positioning myself out of direct lights that may be getting in my eyes thus increasing the difficulty of lip reading or positioning myself towards people so I am close enough – but not too close – to engage in dialogue. (Never want to be too close, no one likes a “close talker”).  To add to this level of fun, I am always trying to position people so they are on my left side, which is my relatively “good ear” – (which makes me laugh because, let’s face it, they’re both pretty awful at this point!)

And then…The Speech.  How I DESPISE the need for The Speech – there is no other way to describe this agonizing yet necessary announcement than it is literally “coming out of the disabled closet”. I have to disclose the hearing loss – especially when I meet new people, all in the name of avoiding social awkwardness. I like to put all the awkwardness up front, and state something that usually goes like this: ““Hi! My name is Julie, nice to meet you – just to let you know I wear two hearing aids and I may need things repeated, but I will let you know if I am having trouble hearing you. Thanks!”  Oh how I hate The Speech. I often wish that there was a more effective way to circumvent this whole thing – perhaps the host of the party could send out an email with my photograph and a printed version of The Speech? Maybe a brochure could be handed out at the door, like a fancy program you would receive at a classical music concert or musical? Maybe business cards? Anything but The Speech! I dance on a thin line between wanting to let people know my situation while sometimes all I want is to be able to walk into a room and “be typical”, even for just one night, a la Cinderella at the ball.  I just want to be seen as a “person first” not as a “disability first”, which inevitably happens once The Speech leaves my lips.

Because…once The Speech has been spoken aloud…I guarantee you that the following reactions are consistent across every social situation I have been in – do you recognize  yourself in any of these? 

Reaction #1:

The dumbfounded, blank, and awkward stare after the Disability Announcement.  This is when people are encountered with someone that they do not consider “intact”, and literally do not know what to do, say or where to look next.  For a few moments, I have been regulated to the level of a zoo animal and the desire to make an elephant trumpeting sound is very, very difficult to contain within my impulsive nature.

Reaction #2:

This person tries to break the awkwardness that they would swear they didn’t have with a joke in poor taste, usually by saying, “What?” and supporting that with a hearty guffaw.  (Yeah – you’re a comedic genius, pal – never heard that one before…so original.)

Reaction #3: 

And the worst one…the worst…is when people mistake my necessary advocacy and friendliness for sudden familiarity and any attempt at socialization quickly turns into the 7th circle of Hell. These are the people that have earned the top spot on my annoyance list, and rightfully have their own subsections as listed here.  I have additionally included the responses I would like to give in return, but am always unable to because I find myself in polite company and need to follow the social boundaries of acceptable interaction – trust me, it pains me to no end.  

Here we go: 

The Curious Questioner

This is the person that says things like, “Oh! When did you lose your hearing?” 

My response in my mind: “Oh god, it’s lost again! Where did it go this time…wait a minute, I thought I saw it next to the car keys on the tray table in the living room…excuse me…” 

The Do-You-Know-So-and-So

This person drops this gem, “I have a friend whose cousin’s daughter’s roommate is Deaf – do you know her?” 

What I desperately want to respond: ‘Yes, we have a directory, an email address book, and our own Facebook page – we sit next to each other and share a donut on the first Thursday of every month at our ‘I’m Deaf And That’s OK’ support group.”

The I Have Disabled Friends

These well-meaning poor souls have to drop something like this: “Oh! My best friend from Kindergarten is in a wheelchair!” 

What I stuff back into my mouth: “Really…Tell me more about how you know all about life with a physical disability…” 

The I Know Sign Language Person

I really have no use for this person…none.  Inevitably, this statement is made, “I KNOW some SIGN LANGUAGE – WATCH!” as they uncomfortably proceed to laboriously spell their name out using the American Sign Language Alphabet 

I will say this one of these days, because I am truly at my breaking point with these people: “I’m not Koko the Gorilla. This is not an episode on PBS. Just stop.”

Please – I beg you – the next time you meet someone with a disability, hold back on the “Curious Questions”. Please do not try and relate to us in any way with our disabilities.  We do not want to watch you sign or hear about how you “played wheelchair basketball once, it was really inspiring!” We are not a side show act or a museum exhibit – we are just regular people trying to enjoy a night out.  Just stop and pass the stuffed mushrooms.