I listen for a living. As a therapist who sits in the presence of somewhere between 20 and 35 clients a week, as they share both the joys and sorrows of their lives, it’s important that I be able to hear what they have to say. In the past week, I have needed to tell them that my ears were clogged and I would be leaning in closer and even asking them to increase the volume so I could grasp the nuances of what they were saying, either in person or via telehealth. I tested my lip reading skills. I used an OTC ear wax removal kit and found temporarily relief. I spent the week, trying to release the pressure in my ears, blowing my nose, in an effort to return to clear hearing.
Last night, I attended a gathering of friends to celebrate the birthday of a longtime “family of choice” member. I kept asking those who were there to speak louder as well. If you place your hands over your ears and push a bit, that is the kind of muffled sense I had. It was incredibly frustrating. This morning, I woke up and turned on Sleepy Hollow on WXPN, which is the way I start my Saturday and Sunday mornings as I ease into the day with peaceful music. Even with the volume at maximum level, I could barely hear the melodies and harmonies wafting over the airwaves.
A solution that had worked a few years ago when I had this problem was to go to my PCP’s office as he did a warm water and peroxide clean out. Since it is a Sunday morning, his office isn’t open, so I got myself up, showered and dressed in time to be one of the first ones at our local Urgent Care. A wonderful doc examined my sad ears and a few minutes later, a gifted and funny tech got all of the accoutrements to do the job. A few wooshes later, she commented that there was a lot of gunk that came out into the basin from each ear. Not a technical medical term, but accurate. Both ears were almost completely blocked. I apologized that she had to be exposed to disgusting looking detritus. She laughed and told me that there was no need to apologize. I imagine that she has seen all manner of bodily fluids in her job. She is also a mom, so I KNOW she has.
By the time I left, I felt a huge physical and emotional relief. Oh, the things we take for granted, hearing among them . I am grateful that I can now hear everything I choose to. I have come out of what felt like a cave. It occurred to me, that this was more than a physical ailment. Every day, I am bombarded with horrible, terrible, not very good news. ICE occupation in Minneapolis and the murders of Renee Good and Alex Pretti and un-named others. The horrors revealed in the Epstein files that has brought with it a sh*tstorm of denial and deflection by the administration. Lies and more lies issuing forth from the current occupant of the Oval Office and his minions. The government disappearing people, immigrant or American born, at their whim. Threats of retribution against his perceived enemies. The rise of measles among the unvaccinated. Wars all over the world.
The bombardment is more than I can handle at times. Now that my ears are clear, I need to figure out how to process what I can’t control. I don’t want to be blissfully ignorant to what is happening in this country, and by extension, the world. I will remind myself that, as an empath, I can let go of what isn’t mine alone to carry. I am surrounded by so many others who put their chanting voices and marching feet where their hearts are so that one day we can hear the sound of peace on the planet. The 1967 Buffalo Springfield song For What It’s Worth echoes with the truth of what I am feeling in this moment. Maybe it does for you too.
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