Hi friends,
Continuing the hearing loss theme for Deaf Awareness Month, I wanted to talk a little about a very simple idea that has had a profound impact on my life.
(I’ve mentioned this before, but doing so again because I’ve found I need frequent and consistent reminders to absorb anything.)
The idea is this: Something is better than nothing.
Five minutes of exercise is better than zero.
Eating one vegetable is better than eating none.
Writing 200 words is better than writing no words at all.
Etc. Etc.
We know this, logically, yet it’s hard to feel good about ourselves for eating a single carrot. Or to pat ourselves on the back for writing a crappy paragraph.
It’s hard to celebrate the small daily “wins” of life in the face of much bigger and more glaring failures. Not to mention the pervasive horrors of the outside world.
It’s much easier to flog ourselves for all the things we don’t do than to acknowledge the very real and very countable things that we do do.
But—spoiler!—we must acknowledge and count these things. Not only because it’s preferable to flogging, but because if we don’t do something, then we do nothing. We give up, defeated and slumped over, doom-scrolling on social media and wondering what happened to our ideals.
What really brought the better-than-nothing concept home for me was an interaction with a failed-nurse-turned-hearing-tech at Costco who fitted me for … my fourth pair (?) of hearing aids.
(I tried and failed to make hearing aids work for 13 years before they finally stuck.)
During one such adjustment appointment, I was complaining to this Costco hearing tech, whose name was Michael. Such complaints were likely above his pay grade, but when your quality of life is diminished and no one is all that keen to help you, it can make you a touch bratty, at times.
(I’m sorry, Michael!)
In any case, I was complaining to Michael about how frustrated I was with the limitations of my hearing aids, how they only really improved my communication by a tiny amount, and in my desperate, whiny way, I asked him why I should bother at all.
”Because it's better than nothing," he said.
He was right, of course.
Once his words sunk in, the bald truth of it shocked me.
It still does.
Since then, "better than nothing" has become a kind of mantra for me. I enjoy it because it’s at once hopeful and utterly defeating. It holds two truths side by side—the beauty of giving it your best and the quiet knife of knowing it won’t get you to where you want to be.
On my lighter days, I see "better than nothing" for its optimism, its central premise of hope, of trying, of doing our damn best in the face of insurmountable suckitude, and in doing so, I allow the gust of it to carry me a few feet further down the dusty road.
Here's one example.
The first time my father was diagnosed with lung cancer, my brother and I flew to Tucson to be with him. He was not expected to survive it. (But he did, that time, at least.)
He had pneumonia and there was a tube in his throat and he was semi-conscious when we arrived, and remained that way for days after.
Because he couldn’t speak, we had to communicate with him through writing—using a chart that had big letters and numbers on it.
I had always struggled to hear my father, and was a tiny bit excited and curious to see if the chart would allow us to communicate in a new way, albeit temporarily.
I was excited to see if it would open something between us that had been locked for years.
We held the chart out for him and told him to spell out what he wanted. We waited, breathlessly, as his finger made contact with the page.
W …
A …
His arm collapsed. He was too weak to hold it up for more than a moment. He tried again.
R …
His eyes closed. He was giving up.
No chart was big enough to contain the agony I felt watching him struggle to convey a single, basic need. To fail.
If he gave up now, how would he ever recover? How would I?
His arm collapsed again, and the weight of everything we had never been able to say to each other collapsed with it.
My brother and I began to make guesses, all of them wrong. We became frantic. He made a final stab at the paper.
F.
“Warf?” my brother asked, amused. “You want to watch Star Trek?”
The smile on my dad’s face was the first sign of life I’d seen from him in days.
It was better than nothing.
Advice
Come for the advice, stay for the canoe metaphors.
Ask Anna: My girlfriend is always on her phone
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Ask Anna: How much flirting online is too much?
In a healthy marriage, both partners work together to ensure the other feels loved, respected and secure. That’s not too much to ask.
Ask Anna: My boyfriend finds my work-from-home outfits unattractive
My boyfriend made a comment that’s really stuck with me. He mentioned that he doesn’t find my work-from-home outfits “attractive.” It caught me off guard and, to be...
Freebies
Lots this month - with queer offerings, some erotica, mysteries, and something called Super Nerds and the Snail Army of Doom (?!)
Some books on hearing loss
Memoirs
Shouting Won’t Help by Katherine Bouton - a memoir by a journalist who knows her shit and who lost her hearing suddenly while reporting abroad. It’s from 2014 so somewhat dated but it literally changed my life, so including.
Invisible by Michele Lent Hirsch - Not explicitly about hearing loss, but this book explores the experience of living with invisible disabilities, focusing on women’s and queer stories. It provides insights into how these conditions are often misunderstood or dismissed by society.
Novels/Graphic Novels
True Biz by Sara Nović - a coming-of-age story that follows a cochlear implant-wearing teen navigating the hearing and Deaf worlds (with a small anarchist subplot that I actually wish had gone further! But not reeeeally the point of the book at all.)
Deafening by Frances Itani - A beautifully written historical novel about a young deaf girl, Grania, growing up in a small Canadian town during World War I. The novel delves into her inner world, her relationship with sound, and how her hearing loss impacts her connection with others, including her relationship with her husband.
El Deafo by Cece Bell - A semi-autobiographical graphic novel about a girl who loses her hearing at a young age and learns to navigate school and friendships with the help of a hearing aid, which she imagines gives her superpowers.
Poetry
Flare by Camisha L. Jones - a short, snappy chapbook on hearing loss and chronic illness.
Deaf Republic by Ilya Kaminsky - A beautiful yet grim poetry collection that centers around a fictional town where residents, in response to political oppression and state violence, “go deaf” as a form of resistance.
Linkspiration
If you’re in need of more high-quality newsletters, check out Refind, which has tons on all topics, including creativity, writing, books, technology, learning, etc.) Explore here.
The wonderful
interviews on her progressive hearing loss and shedding the shame that comes with it on how AI is improving hearing aidsDeaf representation in the media has gotten much better—it literally used to be just Marlee Matlin in everything—but, as always, there’s still a ways to go
on access, bookstores, and “burdens” (again!), this time on ASL mythbustersSpeaking of ASL, some virtual courses: LifePrint (YouTube version), Queer ASL, DHCC, The Sign Language Center, and ASL Connect
Here’s one of my essays (originally in NY mag) on using humor to cope with hearing loss
This Etsy shop turns hearing aids into stylish accessories—with rainbows, spikes, and wizard prints. Or, if you prefer your aids or cochlear implants to be more punk, see Deafmetal.
Comedian DJ Demers (who also has a TV show that just premiered) is very funny and relatable.
Not deaf-related, but “be stubborn” is excellent advice for creatives and so is this story about how a successful-seeming author got dropped by his publisher (Open Secrets)
I could go on but Substack is giving me that yell-y red warning that I’m writing too much, so, until next time,
P.S. “Going Deaf” by Miller Williams
No matter how she tilts her head to hear she sees the irritation in their eyes. She knows how they can read a small rejection, a little judgment, in every What did you say? So now she doesn’t say What? or Come again? She lets the syllables settle, hoping they form some sort of shape that she might recognize. When they don’t, she smiles with everyone else, and then whoever was talking turns to her and says, “Break wooden coffee, don’t you know?” She pulls all she can focus into the face to know if she ought to nod or shake her head. In that long space her brain talks to itself. The person may turn away as an act of mercy, leaving her there in a room full of understanding with nothing to cover her, neither sound nor silence .
Warf ❤️🩹. That story touched my heart. It speaks to how well your father expects you to know him and he was right.
Also ordered El Deafo because that’s the best title ever