By Nesha Board
What is everyday life like for individuals with disabilities, specificity, for someone who is deaf or hard of hearing.
Living with a disability can be hard, but it doesn’t make life impossible. Sometimes I wish people would stop and think: This person may have a disability, but they still live a full, unique life.Not everything comes easy, and that often means people with disabilities have to work through challenges others may never even notice.
Some disabilities are hereditary, while others are not. For instance, some people are born deaf, while others become deaf or hard of hearing due to trauma, illness, or causes that remain unknown. As people get older, hearing loss can happen naturally, too.
In my case, my hearing loss started when I was in seventh grade. I know—shocking, right? Here’s another shocker: doctors still don’t know what caused it. They made assumptions and offered theories, but no real answers. At one point, a doctor even said, “Maybe it’s always been that way, and you just hadn’t noticed it until now.” And I remember thinking… I’m pretty sure I would have noticed if I couldn’t hear right.
Growing up, I got tired of hearing the same questions every time I went to the audiologist:
Do you know how this happened?
Does anyone in your family have hearing loss?
Have you ever caused trauma to your ear?
It became frustrating. The questions became repetitive and exhausting, even though I knew they were trying to understand so they could help.
Now some of you may be wondering, Why didn’t they do more tests or investigate further? Honestly, I think the cost of additional testing would have been too much for me and my family to carry. And sometimes, that’s another part of living with a disability people don’t talk about enough—the financial burden that can come with simply trying to get answers.
That’s the bigger picture, but I want to share what this looked like in my own life, because my journey with hearing loss comes with its own struggles, questions, and lessons. I was only in seventh grade when my hearing began to change. I was sitting in class just doing my schoolwork then suddenly everything went quiet, to me I thought everyone around me just quieted down but in truth the sound around me just became muffled.
The moment I realized something was wrong was when a classmate tapped my shoulder to let me know the teacher was talking to me and I couldn’t hear a word either of them weresaying. I told the teacher “I can’t hear anything you’re saying” and the class started laughing as if I was telling a joke, but I was serious. The teacher realized I wasn’t joking and pulled me out of the classroom to talk to me alone and asked me “why can’t you hear me?” I shrugged my shoulders saying everything sounded muffled. The teacher then called my Mom and when she showed up, she realized that this was very serious and immediately took me to the hospital to figure out what was going on.
From there, that’s when everything really started—the tests, the appointments, the waiting. Honestly the waiting was the worst part. Sitting there, not knowing what the results would say, not knowing if things would get better or if this was my new reality. It felt like my life had hit pause while everyone else’s kept moving.
As time went on, I had to learn how to live in a world that suddenly didn’t sound the same anymore. And that came with more than just hearing loss—it came with people’s assumptions.
See, one issue people don’t realize is that the hardest part isn’t always the disability itself. Sometimes, it’s how people treat you because of it.
There are so many stereotypes. People assume that if you can’t hear well, you can’t understand. That you’re slow. That you’re confused. That you’re ignoring them. I’ve had people get annoyed with me for asking them to repeat themselves, like it was an inconvenience. I’ve had people talk around me instead of to me, like I wasn’t even there.
And then there are those moments where you just smile and nod, hoping you didn’t miss anything important—just to avoid saying “Can you say that again?” for the third time.
It’s frustrating. It’s exhausting. It’s lonely.
Because what people don’t see is the constant effort happening behind the scenes. The way you have to focus just a little harder than everyone else. The way you try to piece together conversations from bits and pieces of sound. The way your mind never really gets to rest because it’s always trying to keep up.
There were moments I felt left out, even when I was surrounded by people. Moments where I questioned myself. Moments where I wished, just for a second, things could go back to how they used to be.
However, at the same time, this journey shaped me in ways I never expected.
It made me stronger. It made me more aware. It taught me how to speak up for myself, even when my voice felt small. And it showed me that my worth isn’t defined by what I can or can’t hear.
My story didn’t end when my hearing changed—it just started a different chapter.
The next time you interact with someone who is deaf or hard of hearing, take a moment. Be patient. Be understanding. And most importantly, just listen—because their voice matters, even if it doesn’t sound like what you’re used to.
Because at the end of the day, being deaf or hard of hearing doesn’t make you different, it makes you unique.
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