The Accessories I Didn’t Choose

Some accessories we choose. Others become part of us anyway.

I did not set out to become a woman with hearing aids.

Nobody does, really.

There was no cute little mood board. No shopping cart. No “Which color feels most like me?” moment.

They were not chosen the way I choose a bag, a lipstick, a necklace, or a pair of sunglasses that make me feel slightly more mysterious than I actually am.

They arrived because I needed them.

And at first, that made them feel like proof of something I was not ready to admit.

That I was getting older.
That something had changed.
That my body had quietly made a decision without asking me first.

Rude, honestly.

And it did not help that when I first started wondering if hearing aids might actually help me, Lou and a few friends thought the whole idea was ridiculous.

Not cruelly. Not dramatically.

Just in that casual way people say things when they do not realize the comment is going to set up camp in your head for years.

“Hearing aids? Now?”

Because hearing aids were for old people.

At least that was the story.

So I laughed it off. I tucked the idea away. I told myself maybe it was not that bad.

Meanwhile, I was living with a high-pitched ringing in my ears that never clocked out.

Not sometimes.

Not only when it was quiet.

All the time.

Twenty-four hours a day.

And still, embarrassment kept me from getting serious about finding the right audiologist. I do not know exactly how I finally got up the courage.

I just know that one day, I made the appointment.

And for the first time, I had answers.

Not drama.
Not vanity.
Not me being difficult.

Answers.

For a while, I thought of them as something to hide. Something to tuck behind my hair. Something I hoped people would not notice.

But the strange thing is, once I started wearing them, my life got bigger again.

I could hear conversations without pretending.
I could follow the joke the first time.
I could sit at a table and not spend the whole meal trying to piece together missing words like some kind of exhausted detective.

I could hear my people.

And then there were the little everyday miracles.

I could watch TV without closed captions.

I could hear what was happening without turning the volume all the way up to 39, like I was trying to host movie night for the entire neighborhood.

I could sit in my own living room and just… listen.

Not strain.
Not guess.
Not pretend I caught it.

Just listen.

And that changed everything.

Somewhere along the way, the thing I did not choose became something I was grateful for.

Not because they are glamorous.

Although, let’s be honest, if we can call glasses “chic,” then hearing aids deserve their moment too.

But because they gave me back parts of myself I did not realize I had been slowly handing over.

Ease.
Connection.
Confidence.
The ability to be fully in the room instead of smiling and hoping I was responding correctly.

They are still not the accessory I would have picked.

But they are one of the most useful ones I own.

And maybe that is the part I want to remember.

Not every part of becoming yourself feels like a choice at first.

Sometimes the thing you resist is the thing that lets you show up more fully.

Sometimes the accessory you didn’t choose becomes the one that helps you hear your own life again.

And honestly?

That feels pretty extra to me.

Tiny Truth:
Some accessories are chosen because they are pretty. Some are chosen because they give your life back.

Both are allowed in the picture.

What is one thing you resisted that ended up making your life better?