Chronicles Of A Deafman: Scenes of A Memory

Sunrise

Yes, you read that title right. No, it's not a typo. If it were it would be copywriting infringement and I don't need all that extra noise because of it. (No pun intended) This is a story of my life... wait scratch that. I'm not a celebrity, nor a successful tech genius, nor start from the bottom to top Billionaire protege.

I'm just.. Me. I am a normal 25-year-old broke deaf dude living in my parents' house and typing away what seems to be the beginning of a pointless autobiography if I had never met my success yet, or if I'll ever meet such success? Maybe, this isn't about the path to success, or the trials and tribulations leading to said success.

For several years, I thought about writing my story about challenges throughout my life as a deaf child growing up. A deaf child and his challenges through social skills, education and mental. How I worked my way through life with only one cochlear implant for two deaf ears.

However, after many reflections and considerations of how to put my mind into words. (which often has too many things to think about in one thinking session.) I struggled with how to place words onto paper. With my six-lane Houston traffic highway mind nearly jammed. I asked myself three questions.

That first question being, Who is going to bother about an autobiography of a deaf man? Well, I suppose there is a niche population of hard-hearing/deaf individuals throughout the world. However, I'm not writing for just those people. I'm writing for everyone.

But why bore them with a chronological prolonged essay of one's life? Maybe, I don't write about my life, but write short stories of events that happened to me. That impacts me, perhaps that way my audience can find a position of relativeness where they learn about who I am through my stories and hopefully, they can learn about themselves too. But who is the audience that you are writing for?

This question took some time to think about as I wasn't exactly sure. Who am I writing for? I went down to a lake in Northern Minnesota. Put a worm onto a hook, cast it out, and wait for a bite. As I waited, I pondered this question looking upon the crystal clear lake, reflecting the blue sky, the trout fries skirmishing the shallow waters. Small greetings of a painter turtle as it pokes through the glassy surface of the water.

Loons singing their sorrowful songs across the lake. Which is shadowed by the tall cedar trees that surround this lake. It was my oasis, my sanctuary, and my home. This is where I go when the world is too loud for me. News blaring, sirens, shouting, gunfire, money, money, money, and the heavy whines of the factories exhaust me of my focus on hearing clearly. Sure, I could take off my ear but it only gives volume to the voices inside my uneased mind. So I retreat to the woods, the lakes, and the swamps and reflect on life, to make peace with my struggles. I travel there to answer my question, this is the audience I am writing for.

I write for those who have other forms of physical or mental disabilities. Those of the strange, the unique, and the troubled. Those that have stride for the higher mountains but fell in an avalanche and remain trapped in snow. Waiting, for the snow to melt. I hope my words can help you climb out of the snow, or keep you warm until the snow melts and the sun reveals itself to you.

I write for those who have climbed the mountains, braving the cold, the wind, and the thunder. Climbing to the top, as you have achieved your greatest mission in life. But, above the clouds where the sky has nothing left to show itself to you but the stars above. For those who find themselves trapped at the top, I hope my words can help pick a new star to trek toward.

For those of the lost and lonely, ones that watch the sun go in circles around you. Time seems to be accelerating at a pace you cannot keep up with. Faces and familiarities of your life, fade faster from your memory. Faded to where a simple name is difficult to remember. I hope my words help you create or rediscover memories and to remind you, that a fallen leaf needs wind to follow the river. For those who have toiled for days, weeks, months, or years to earn a keep that does not promise you a positive future. As you, go in circles pondering if your destiny, your faith, and your happiness have its place in this world. I hope my words can encourage you to swing the hammer and keep building.

Lastly, for everyone, there are days when you lay in bed. Anxious, depressed, abandoned, degraded, downhearted, beaten, bruised, tearful, fearful, and suicidal. As you lay in bed, with all those painful words pulsing in your mind. Tearing you apart, and setting yourself beside your true identity. I hope you can hear the words of a lost man who happens to be deaf.

I Hear You.

This is Chronicles of a Deafman