I refused to give up reading so I just force myself to do it.
Concentration is a muscle, and it can be regained or retrained in spite of loud, constant noise. At least, that's my experience.
The more I resign myself to not having a normal life, the more quickly my life slips through my grasp. The more that I stoically force myself to lead a life which externally appears to be 'unchanged', the more fulfillment I find.
Sometimes when I read books now, even in silent rooms, paragraphs, pages and chapters sometimes slip by without a thought of tinnitus. In the first few years, I was thinking about tinnitus three times per sentence at least. Sometimes it's still like that, but, you know what? I can still read, I can still work, I can still spend time with my family. I can still play video games, I can still ski, etc. I have some dead friends who can't say that anymore, and I do not envy them their silence.
As long as I'm here, I'm holding on to the things I cherish.