The Day My Life Changed Forever & the Journey It took To Get Back On My Feet… Literally

On February 17th, 2017 my life, as I knew it, changed drastically, and suddenly.

It was a Friday, just like any other Friday. I was going about my morning, doing a load of laundry, feeling completely normal. Out of nowhere, I heard a loud ringing in my right ear. Minutes later I began experiencing an extreme and continuous spell of vertigo. The dizziness continued to worsen minute by minute, until I could no longer stand.

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks, suddenly I became aware that I could no longer hear from my right ear.  I had completely lost 50% of my hearing, and to this day, my hearing has yet to return.

I was later diagnosed with Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss. SSHL is a condition which affects the nerves associated with hearing and balance. Doctors have no hard evidence as to why this happens to some people, and they also have no cure. Some say it’s an autoimmune response to a virus, others say it can be triggered by stress. Initially I was misdiagnosed, but after seeing a few different physicians, they were able to determine the type of hearing loss I had experienced.

I was treated with a high dose of oral steroids for 2 weeks, followed by steroid injections to my inner ear. Both treatments ultimately did nothing and I was left feeling hopeless, as steroids are the only course of treatment for SSHL. My doctor’s recommendation was “learn to deal with it” and “take care of my good ear”. Awesome. 

When you’re experiencing such a huge loss, so suddenly, it feels as though your whole world stops. And for some time, I think it actually does. Particularly when it comes to your own health.

This is the second time in my life when everything changed in an instant and there was nothing I could do about it. The first time I experienced tragic loss was when my house caught fire, 3 years earlier. That is loss on a whole different level, because yes, we lost all of our belongings, but none of that mattered because we also lost our sweet angel dog Lola. I’ve yet to write about it, but one day I will tell that story, too.

Realizing that at 29 years old, 50% of my hearing was permanently gone, felt like my whole world was over.

Not being able to stand on my own 2 feet because of vertigo felt like my whole world was over.

Having constant tinnitus 24/7, felt like my whole world was over.

Not being able to enjoy going out to restaurants and socializing with my friends because I can’t hear, felt like my whole world was over. 

The first month was a blur. I was pretty much incapacitated, physically and mentally. Because of the vertigo, I was not able to stand on my own 2 feet, quite literally. My husband (then fiance) had to help me shower and walk up and down the stairs. It was terrifying, the idea of being “stuck” this way.

I remember crying. A lot. I remember thinking, “how could this possibly have happened to me? How could this possibly be permanent? What did I do to have caused such a horrible thing to happen to my body?” Those first few weeks were real messy. I didn’t leave the house unless it was to see a doctor. I had some visitors. I watched a lot of Friends and How I Met Your Mother. I read a lot of books. I cuddled my dogs.

There were days when I cried myself to sleep, thinking, “it will be better when I wake up in the morning.”, but it never was. I would wake up realizing nothing had changed, and instantly start crying again. In retrospect, some of these emotional breakdowns were likely caused by the high dosage of steroids that I was prescribed, but nonetheless, I was a mess.

The second month was similar to the first month, except the vertigo got a little better, and I was able to start getting a hold of myself. I still could not practice yoga or exercise without getting dizzy, which left me feeling lost and like a shell of myself.

You have to understand: movement is such a huge part of my lifestyle. I teach yoga for a living. Movement is how I get connected to myself. It’s where I get grounded. It’s where I feel at home. It’s what gives me life. And I couldn’t do any of it.

The turning point

I decided that I needed a routine, so I began every morning by waking up at 6am and journaling about what I was experiencing. I meditated. I lit candles. I started taking daily walks around my neighborhood as my exercise. I took lots of baths. I drank more tea than I’ve ever drank in my entire life. I was getting acupuncture twice a week to try and heal the nerve damage. I was reading a lot. I got back on my mat for a few very, very gentle movements.

The vertigo was much better than at first, but I still felt a little dizzy pretty much all the time, and especially when I would stand up, lay down, or go from a forward fold to standing, etc.

I began realizing that everything I put in my body had an instant effect on my tinnitus and the way my body felt. I did lots of research and learned that inflammation in the body has a direct effect on tinnitus and the feeling of “fullness” in the ear. So I decided to begin really focusing on my physical health and diet.

The doctors say that there is a 3 month window in which you could potentially heal and have some hearing return, so I decided to try. I  cut out basically everything from my diet that didn’t grow in the ground, and anything that was known to cause inflammation.

I started taking all kinds of supplements. I cut out sugar. I cut out alcohol. I cut out gluten. I cut out dairy. I began limiting my sodium intake because too much sodium causes my symptoms to instantly flare up. And although none of these things made my hearing come back, I at least felt like I was doing everything I could do to try. 

Everything else was out of my control, and this was something I could control, and that was everything for me during that time. 

By the third month, I was able to get back on my yoga mat. I began taking classes in the studio (I was not yet back to teaching at this point). My practice was extra slow. Everything was modified, but I was doing it, and that’s all that mattered. 

The anxiety of getting back in public after you go through trauma is so f-ing real

Getting back in public was very difficult, and it created a lot of anxiety for me in the beginning. I can’t hear from my right side, and if there’s any background noise, or the space is echo-y, it’s hard to hear even from my “good” ear. When I get anxious the tinnitus gets louder, which makes it even more difficult to hear, which creates even more anxiety…. snowball effect. 

There’s a weird thing that happens when you experience a life trauma or physical illness, and then re-emerge to your life and see people that knew you before this “thing” happened to you.

People treat you differently. They treat you like a fragile child. They want to offer support and ask if there’s anything they can do (unless you can bring my hearing back, then no), and I know it’s from a place of love, but you just know that they don’t know what to say, and so they just look at you with that face. They look at you with eyes of pity that scream, “I’m healthy and you’re not”. They feel sorry for you, and you can just see it in them.

Well intentioned people would come up to me and ask how I was doing, and then say to me, “at least you didn’t lose ALL your hearing.” Wow, thanks. Some people would say, “hey, look at it this way, this is just your new normal.” Cool, that really makes me feel better. 

The biggest issue with these comments is that they were unsolicited and uninvited.

These were mostly comments from acquaintances or students of mine, all well meaning and lovely individuals, but nonetheless.

Everyone wants to offer their unwanted advice and tell you stories of someone they know, or a friend of a friend that has gone through something similar, which is never actually similar because they actually have no idea what I’m going through. People would try to relate by saying things like, “oh yeah, I get vertigo sometimes, it really sucks.” OH REALLY? Do you get vertigo for months at a time that prevents you from doing your job or walking on your own two feet? Coupled with total hearing loss? Coupled with loud, annoying ringing in your ears that’s permanent? I DIDN’T THINK SO, SO DON’T TELL ME YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL BECAUSE YOU DON’T. Now don’t get me wrong: I had plenty of support from friends and family that are close to me, and it’s true, without that support, I don’t know how I would have gotten through it as well as I did. 

Here’s a tip: when someone you know is going through something terrible, don’t give them advice unless they ask. Just listen. Just be there with them. You don’t have to come in and fix the situation, because guess what, you can’t! And definitely don’t compare what they are going through with an article you read, with a story that you heard, with a situation that you know of that is somewhat similar to theirs, just to sound relatable.

There’s nothing like losing your hearing, or having your house burn down, and then having people tell you that it could have been worse. Yes, it could have been worse. Thank you for pointing that out, and no that doesn’t help me to feel any better whatsoever.

In my experience, the most powerful support came from friends that would just show up to be there with me. I had friends come over to just watch TV or to go on walks. I had a girlfriend who, without telling me, paid for all of my acupuncture sessions because I wasn’t working at the time, and acupuncture can get really expensive. I had friends stop by and bring me food. I had people send me books, and Amazon Prime me my favorite Kind Bars, and my favorite facial spray. I had a friend send me to get a massage. These things were so helpful in my healing process, more than I will ever be able to put into words. 

When I wrote this article, it had been 1 year and 6 months since I lost my hearing. I was 30 years old. Today, as I publish this, it’s been 2 years and 8 months. I am 31 years old.

I’ve been through all the stages of grief: denial that my hearing is gone and I’m forced to live like this forever, anger that something like this could happen to me (even when I do my best to live a healthy lifestyle and I consider myself a good person), bargaining with a higher power and promising that I’ll do anything if only I could hear again, depression…, and finally, acceptance that this is, at least for now, my new normal.

What it’s like on the other side

Accepting is the hardest part, but here I am, living proof that going through the hard stuff is HARD AF, but it’s possible, and on the other side, I feel like myself again.

To be honest, I feel like a better version of myself. This whole situation forced me to take a long hard look at my life. I had to make shifts to be sure that I was taking the best possible care of myself. Perhaps deep down there is a fear that what happened in my right ear could also happen in my left ear (which is unlikely, but nonetheless, possible), and at that point I would be deaf. I don’t think that will happen, but I do need to do everything in my power to make sure the hearing that I have remaining is strong and healthy. 

What I realized was that although on the outside you can look like a picture perfect image of health & happiness, that doesn’t necessarily mean shit. 

Yes, I taught yoga and meditated. I had abs and visible muscles, which I was so proud of, and which were likely the result of living in a calorie deficit because I thought being skinny meant that I was healthy, and I equated my size to my health.

I didn’t nourish my body properly. I exercised a lot, and didn’t eat enough. I stayed up way too late, and woke up early. I drank lots of caffeine throughout the day to combat my lack of sleep. I worked nonstop. I was teaching studio yoga, teaching private clients, flipping houses, selling real estate, designing new homes, interior decorating, managing and opening new airbnb’s…. all at the same time. And let me tell you, I did NOT feel tired.

I was functioning on fumes and endorphins. My body was in extreme adrenal fatigue, and it was not until everything came crashing down (I lost 50% of my hearing), that I slowed down long enough to realize what I was doing to myself.

I am by nature a very driven person. I am what you might call a “go getter”. But I had no balance. I was going and getting and going some more, and not spending any time resting and recharging my batteries. The hearing loss forced me into a place where I no longer had a choice but to slow down. My body literally said, “OK if you’re not going to take care of yourself, I will make it so you have no choice”. And that’s exactly what I did. 

I might not be able to go to bars and hear people at concerts, or even go to concerts without ear plugs, but I can honestly say that I am happier than I was before I lost my hearing.

I do less, but I feel more fulfilled. I rest when I’m tired. I eat when I’m hungry. I exercise because it makes me happy and it feels good, not because I want to be skinny. I am more present. I am more connected. Somehow, I am more myself than I was when I could hear out of both ears. It’s weird, I know, but going through something like this transforms you, and fortunately for me, that happened in a positive way.

I am able to see things more clearly and I’ve learned to prioritize what’s important to me, like creating a deeper connection to everyone I encounter, to my friends and family, and more than ever, to myself.

I don’t feel as though I have a disability, and I don’t walk through life like something terrible has happened to me. Like all the wise teachings say: You can’t control what happens to you in this life, but you can control how you look onward, and how you choose to react to the cards you’ve been dealt.