March 14, 2015

I still can’t believe I switched on the cochlear implant only last week.
It feels like such a long time ago. 
A lot has been happening including going back to uni, so I barely had time to sit down, collect myself and reflect.
I’m moving in a hustle and life feels like a bustle. Moving so fast, sometimes I feel like I can’t get past.
I can’t sit down and get myself in check.
But in the rare moments when I do, I can’t stop the tears of gratitude silently escape me.
Those few seconds where I’m alone and I feel like time stands still. Nothing around me, but new sounds, silently amazes me.
Sometimes it doesn’t feel like the sounds are picked up by the microphone of the cochlear, traveling, and processed into my brain.
But rather, it feels like a breeze, sounds are softly trigged by my ear.
My brain, a silent whirlpool, trying to figure out what is known and what is new.
So silently, sometimes I don’t even notice them myself.
Off, without the cochlear, complete darkness linger. Complete deafness.
On, the cochlear isn’t loud, but the clarity of sounds I couldn’t hear before, the sharpness of pitches I couldn’t grasp before; it’s a silent journey of awe and anticipation.
Listening to old songs to notice any difference, comprehending my own voice and those I’ve known before; differences I draw in amazement.
I know I’ve got a long journey, to raise the level week and check my progress.
To adjust to new sounds and label them.
To adjust to new things and enjoy them.
But it’s vital for the success of the cochlear to stop and smell the roses.
I need to be aware and comprehend, all the new noises.
It’s important that moments like these, rare moments of ease,to stop and collect my self and reflect within the motions.
The tears silently evoking my gratitude and emotions.