The Silence I Couldn’t Hide: Why Hearing Loss Forced Me to Redefine “Success” at 31
How Hearing Loss Taught Me That Success Means Impact, Not Noise
For a long time, I believed that success in a high-pressure career meant being the fastest, sharpest, and most available person in the room. I measured my value by my ability to navigate complex systems, lead projects, and maintain a relentless, “always-on” pace.
But then, the world began to change.
When progressive sensorineural hearing loss started to steal the sounds around me, I felt as though the volume was being turned down on my future, too. I spent months in a state of “listening fatigue,” exhausted by the invisible work of pretending I could hear every word in every meeting. I was terrified that the silence would eventually mean losing my seat at the table.
Hiding in Plain Sight
Sitting in an MRI machine and eventually being fitted for hearing aids was a reality I never expected to face at such a young age. I was terrified that these devices would rewrite my professional narrative—that colleagues would see a “limitation” before they saw my leadership. I didn’t want my potential to be capped by someone else’s assumptions of what capability looks like at my age.
Starting over wasn’t a choice; it was a reality I had to survive. The moment I truly “began again” was the day I stopped hiding and let my village in. I let my mother, my sisters, my partner, and my mentors see the fear behind the exterior. I leaned into the strength of my mother and the enduring memory of my late father, using them as anchors when the path ahead felt quiet and uncertain.
Trading “Busy” for “Better”
In the quiet, my entire philosophy on work shifted. I realized that my value isn’t tied to my ears; it’s tied to my brain. I stopped chasing the “busy work” of taking on every project just to prove I was still “capable.”
I began to prioritize impact over activity. I found I could deliver more meaningful results than I ever did when I was trying to do it all. I stopped chasing the noise of constant action and started focusing on work that actually moves the needle.
A Message to the Next Woman
To anyone navigating an unexpected change or a medical hurdle that feels like it’s shrinking your world: seek out the people who will challenge you and lift you up. We often burn ourselves out trying to do everything, believing it’s the only way to earn our worth. It isn’t.
My world may be quieter at 31, but my vision has never been clearer. Don’t chase the noise—focus on the impact.
