A Stormy Exercise

A friend asked me, “So what do you do to manage your tinnitus?” I’ve blogged around this question several times, and yet am stumped to address it squarely since I don’t have a complete answer myself. Mostly it is a matter of WAITING, focusing on God and waiting on Him, knowing He will keep me secure (His character is trustworthy). Sometimes I feel if I could just get across the reality of the noise, and know another person could truly understand, it would be very helpful for us both!

And so, I’ll try a little non-academic exercise. (My apologies for perseverating on this issue, but after all, it’s a 37-year-old topic for me). Please know this is not a plea for pity, but rather an invitation to understand.

Here’s my challenge, if you’re up for it. Try to remember several of the worst storms you’ve experienced in your lifetime. The season doesn’t matter – just the intensity of the storm. It could be a winter snow or hail storm, a spring hurricane or severe flood, or whatever. Now put them all together in your mind. Recall the atmosphere inside the house or wherever you were taking refuge; the general mood and the range of emotions.

Several instances come to mind immediately when I do this: an electrical/wind storm at the lake when I was a child and we ended up taking refuge under the bed, a tornado funnel (I watched it rip across a field at a friend’s house when I was a teenager) that literally severed three-story buildings and tossed cars as if they were popcorn, a severe ice storm here in Buck Creek in ’91 that encased EVERYTHING and we ended up being without electrical power for 14 days.

In each case, my thoughts and feelings hover at the end of the scale where adrenaline is flowing freely. But there’s more to it than that. When I revisit those memories and put myself back in the moment, I mostly feel compelled/driven to find a place of safety or at least relative security. I’m consumed by the storm; everyday things are temporarily forgotten as if nothing else exists. Insecurity or overwhelm might jump to the fore. I’m out of control since the elements WILL have their way.

My tinnitus at this stage of the game might be compared to an inner, vicious raging storm. I feel unsafe within myself, consumed and overwhelmed. This means that it only takes a little nudge from some other external stressor to tempt me to fall over-the-emotional-edge. It also means I value Good Samaritans who simply come alongside and care.

In the storm analogy, a house provides at least some degree of shelter and distance from the onslaught. But with tinnitus, there’s no place to hide, no place to go. There’s no cellar or closet or other refuge. The inner storm just keeps on, day and night, while I stand naked and unprotected in the midst of it.

You’d think the storm would eventually become so familiar it would become normal, and thus acceptable. But the body isn’t wired that way. Storms are NOT the norm. They’re supposed to come and go, not define every single minute of every single day. There would be great anguish, confusion, and loss if our world were in a constant storm state. (Remember Noah?)

Also, it seems obvious that distractions could help. That’s true to a point, but how easily are you distracted when you become New Orleans in the grip of Katrina?

And then it comes down to perceptions. Is it really so bad? Nah. Not really…not compared to many other chronic problems. My blind friend, Kathy, faces much more difficult challenges on a daily basis. And then there’s Nick Vujicik from Australia (who studied at Purdue, incidentally; I saw him on the street in his wheelchair with some buddies) who was born with neither arms nor legs. But even if it isn't totally debilitating, the truth is I can’t “perceive” my way out of the noise. I can’t ignore it.

A correct theological response is to seek refuge in the Lord. I know from my own experience this is true, and possible, and it works. And yet I am weak and imperfect. The storm is bigger than my will, and it is a constant battle to keep a right perspective/relationship with Him without crumbling under the pressure (which, in fact, might not be unlike actual barometric pressure).

Like so many other things, it comes down to prioritizing God (His presence, His sovereignty in my life) rather than the problem…waiting…letting Him work in me..

And just one more point that I’m sure I’ve mentioned before. It is lonely, here. In a true storm situation, someone else may well be in the house with you. You face it together; you jointly find the safest place possible; you help each other. Or at the very least, you compare notes on the experience (and the damages) with the neighbors when it is all over. There is community. With tinnitus and associated hearing loss that’s reached the intensity of mine, there is very little common ground, at least not with the average person. This is why I’m writing this blog today, as an attempt at education.