Covert Silence

Yesterday I spent the whole day in secret silence, bustling around Melbourne. I caught trams and buses. I walked down footpaths and crossed busy roads. I bought clothes and ordered food.

I did this all while ensconced in my own private bubble. I had my ‘ear’ tucked away in my pocket in case I needed to whip it out. I felt very Alanis Morrisette - “𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘹𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘣”.

I had an entire conversation with the beautiful man working at a clothing store. I used my Cardzilla app to tell him I was deaf and proceeded to use gestures to show what I wanted to try on and in what size.

A screenshot from my Cardzilla app.

When I emerged from the changerooms, he had his phone ready with a message for me, asking how the jeans felt and if I wanted to try a similar style in another colour.

It was such a simple action, yet the effect was profound. He had taken ownership of his place in our interaction and hadn’t left me hanging to do all the work. He did it without fuss and we continued this way for about twenty minutes. I felt seen and respected (and bought two pairs of jeans!).

These connections mean so much when you have a sensory loss. It’s a bridge to the ‘other side’. The place where most people exist. Isolation is real and it compounds.

Today really demonstrated that silence doesn’t need to be lonely – if only people reached out, into it.