A Decade of Tinnitus Forced Me Out of Perfectionism

I've reframed my relationship with tinnitus after learning so much about myself and what I need.

This past April marked ten years of my having tinnitus, a milestone I hadn’t wanted to exist. Truthfully, there’s been some shame, as if tinnitus is a marker of my having done something ‘wrong’. What does it say about me that I can’t figure this thing out and rid myself of it?

I suspect that part of what drove shame was already having overcome a serious illness (sarcoidosis) in my late twenties and that, technically, tinnitus has lasted far longer and I’ve thrown eve-ry-thing at it.

Despite valuing and believing in a holistic approach where I look at my life as a whole rather than fixating on one part and taking a battering ram to it, tinnitus lingering morphed into a pesky nuisance for me to conquer with perfectionism and people pleasing.

It felt so debilitating, even physical, at times, that I became hypersensitive to my life. I’d make a decision or be in the midst of doing what I thought was right for me and the tinnitus would worsen, so I’d second guess myself and stall, spinning my wheels. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself anymore. What the f is my body trying to tell me? I’m sick of listening to myself! All I feel like I do is listen and still the tinnitus won’t shut up, I raged. Sometimes I had dark thoughts. But then, I’d gradually pick myself up and try again, attempting to listen and trust myself even if I wasn’t experiencing immediate results and even if things got better for a while and then worsened.

In case you’re unfamiliar with tinnitus, it’s essentially hearing sounds despite their not existing externally.

I experience a variety (whistling, hissing, ticking, ringing, rustling, and sometimes sounding like somebody emptied a tub of tiny beads onto a table). While sudden loud sounds, competing noises and voices, the sound of shower water, and, at one point, foil and plastic, trigger it, tinnitus also gives me a heads-up about an impending upset stomach (sounds like a whistling kettle), needing to pee at night (agitated rustling that gets louder until I get up), and when I’ve heard or experienced a truth, information or an idea that’s important and on point that I need to pay close attention to (brief ticks).

When the volume, intensity and frequency of the tinnitus increases temporarily, it’s typically hormonal, although sometimes related to a specific stress. And when it becomes elevated for an extended period, it’s usually the outcome of having pushed too hard so feeling burnt out and/or an expression of stuckness (e.g. paralysis, anxiety, overwhelm).

Over the decade of tinnitus, I’ve experienced several months at a time of it being ‘gone’, including, weirdly, the few months before and after dad’s death. It also went quiet while writing the first draft of The Joy of Saying No and for a month or so after I broke up with my mother. Currently, tinnitus is at its lowest for over two years.