The toughest lesson in the world.
We all had pretty good lives - am I right?
Some of us had truly wonderful lives.
I would't have traded my life with anybody.
For me, jazz ability represents the pinnacle of artistic achievement - the ability to create passionate spontaneous music, literally while thinking on one's feet.
I played it - I always listened to the playback - I loved it. I could barely wait for my next engagement - my next foray into the world of jazz.
But I digress.
We all had very enjoyable lives, often full of truly considerable achievements, undoubtedly with even better times to come.
Other sufferers could tell equally impressive accounts, or more so.
But then - with absolutely no warning - our lovely peaceful lives were thrown into utter turmoil, complete chaos, by some hateful accident that sought to destroy us.
Physical injury of some sort which managed by some vile fluke of fate to destroy nerve fibres in our cochleas.
The next step for us takes incredible courage, if we wish to survive.
Are we going to allow our lives to end here, or is there some way to, not only ensure our survival, but to make a success of the rest of our lives.
How can we possibly do that?
Unbelievably sad that we can not have our old lives back - what a hateful twist of fate - but we all know that that is the truth of it.
To make sense of any of this, it is vitally important to me that my close family 'know' what happened to me, and accept it for what it is.
It is not my fault - I am not some pathetic neurotic depressive - I am the same person that they knew before, except that I have suffered an unbelievably dreadful trauma - I am a true victim, of a hateful condition.
If I am to live and fulfil my responsibility to them, then that is the very least I expect of them.
'Understanding and respect!'
If I am to be criticised - then I'm outa here,
perhaps literally!
The reality for us all is:
"Reality is all there is.
We are where we are.
Unfortunately we cannot return
to factory settings.
However unpalatable,
our only option is acceptance,
hopefully with humane support."
For the sake of those around me, and my three adorable pussycats, I want to 'make it.'
I write things like this because in some strange way it actually helps me to build my own often flagging resolve.
*This piece is only relevant to severe sufferers.
Those with mild tinnitus will not have one pickled clue what I am talking about.
**Trolls respectfully stay away pleas.
We all had pretty good lives - am I right?
Some of us had truly wonderful lives.
I would't have traded my life with anybody.
For me, jazz ability represents the pinnacle of artistic achievement - the ability to create passionate spontaneous music, literally while thinking on one's feet.
I played it - I always listened to the playback - I loved it. I could barely wait for my next engagement - my next foray into the world of jazz.
But I digress.
We all had very enjoyable lives, often full of truly considerable achievements, undoubtedly with even better times to come.
Other sufferers could tell equally impressive accounts, or more so.
But then - with absolutely no warning - our lovely peaceful lives were thrown into utter turmoil, complete chaos, by some hateful accident that sought to destroy us.
Physical injury of some sort which managed by some vile fluke of fate to destroy nerve fibres in our cochleas.
The next step for us takes incredible courage, if we wish to survive.
Are we going to allow our lives to end here, or is there some way to, not only ensure our survival, but to make a success of the rest of our lives.
How can we possibly do that?
Unbelievably sad that we can not have our old lives back - what a hateful twist of fate - but we all know that that is the truth of it.
To make sense of any of this, it is vitally important to me that my close family 'know' what happened to me, and accept it for what it is.
It is not my fault - I am not some pathetic neurotic depressive - I am the same person that they knew before, except that I have suffered an unbelievably dreadful trauma - I am a true victim, of a hateful condition.
If I am to live and fulfil my responsibility to them, then that is the very least I expect of them.
'Understanding and respect!'
If I am to be criticised - then I'm outa here,
perhaps literally!
The reality for us all is:
"Reality is all there is.
We are where we are.
Unfortunately we cannot return
to factory settings.
However unpalatable,
our only option is acceptance,
hopefully with humane support."
For the sake of those around me, and my three adorable pussycats, I want to 'make it.'
I write things like this because in some strange way it actually helps me to build my own often flagging resolve.
*This piece is only relevant to severe sufferers.
Those with mild tinnitus will not have one pickled clue what I am talking about.
**Trolls respectfully stay away pleas.