Sixteen years ago, I visited my doctor with fright in my voice. I explained that I heard a tone whenever I was in quiet spaces. I never liked them, but I now found loud rooms much more off-putting.
She chuckled wryly and said this was to be expected and would last the rest of my natural life. My doctor was - and is - an oncologist. The firehose of chemotherapy to arrest my stage four cancer had several side effects. That would be the first of several conversations I would have about the prices of survival.
While it would not kill or cripple me - nor was it the most “severe” of the post-chemo consequences - this tinnitus would change my relationship with sound for the rest of my life. Quiet became disquieting. Loud rooms and bars were nothing but din. I seek signals consciously because of the “tone” that chases me.
In the last decade, this has manifested in listening intently to people and asking questions. Sometimes people are surprised that I “get” their ideas quickly. My little secret is that I am more focused on their words and intent because I don’t have the tools to carry a conversation casually or with half of my attention. Because I need more signals, I ask more questions that follow from their words.
The last year has been a revelation in sound. I have learned how to use my eyes to regulate the terrible tone. In prior years I would look for auditory distraction when exercising or engaging in a sport like snowboarding. Now I use the focus of my body and eyes to open my mind to the ingest of more information and wisdom per day than I used to get in a month.
Audiobooks are often slammed as a slower, less-retained way of consuming information. All that may be true - I grant that they might be second-best to focusing my visual senses on a book in front of me. But they make sound my ally. They fill me with signal and - for a while - a respite from the tone.
I use sound as well to solve problems. Music helps me. I have to dial in the artist and genre that will speak to me in a moment, but then I let them play - 30 or 60 minutes on a loop to keep my mind relaxed and engaged. This combination helps me into a focused state to solve complicated problems.
In the past few months, I discovered Zoom-based accountability rooms. These let me leverage my eyes to stay in my chair while music relaxed my brain to zero in on multidimensional problems.
The last month has been a revelation in silence. I started a habit of morning pages based on The Artist’s Way by Julia Cameron. I sit with a notepad every morning before 5 am and write for three pages, just as the technique outlines. Initially, I did this with my AirPods in, music amping me up for the “real” work to follow while my coffee brewed. Then, one day in the last five weeks, I forgot to charge them overnight, and I wrote in the quiet of predawn. A new habit was born.
The words in my head started speaking into the silence. Words flowed from ideas. I focused on the inner monologue, blocking out even my poisoned nerves. For ten minutes, as words raced through my pen, I was whole, alone and still.
I don’t know what comes next. I did not understand my relationship with auditory experience until very recently. After I described my audiobook pace, a friend asked, “but do you ever read?” They meant, of course, do I look at words on paper or screen. Yes, though the level of wisdom I have heard seems to far exceed what I have seen in the past year. But more importantly, I have a better understanding of how I interact with information. I can build on that.
Either way, I am no longer afraid.