I would like to make an amendment to my previous blog post about feeling embarrassed. At the time, I only had difficulty in expressing my frame of reference for embarrassment. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel embarrassment, since there were certain acts I was loathe to do in view of full public, but didn’t consider those worthy of being my most embarrassing moments.
Just recently, I experienced an incident that had me re-evaluating my previous description. I limited embarrassment as being a social construct, the visible type to blush furiously when unfairly placed in social situations, such as being forced in admitting to having a crush in a teasing public. But there were other manifestations that I hadn’t considered.
On this particular day, I was on my way out after doing some volunteer preparations when I entered the Metro and saw the station terminal was delayed. Since there was a larger crowd than usual, I decided to check out the bus schedule to the next station. That involved leaving the terminal and going back upstairs to see the timesheets, which showed that they’d be coming in about 20 minutes or so, and I’d just missed the last one by 2 minutes.
I attempted to go back and see if the Metro was running late, but my card refused to go past the main gate, having already having used it very recently, and not passing the honor system. I briefly said a few words to the Ticket Counter to try to explain my predicament, outlining the details above. He said a few words that I didn’t understand. I stood expressionless, nodded and then turned back towards the bus stop. Only, I decided not to wait for the bus, but walk to the next station instead.
As I was trekking, I became acutely aware of how heavy my backpack was, having brought some library books that were due. I was accustomed to carrying heavy loads, since I enjoy the weight while it’s resting on my lap as I sit on the bus, but it makes for unpleasant travel companions during long walking hours. Which is why I take public transportation in the first place.
I ruminated about my current predicament, going over the previous events in my mind. Sure, I could’ve made things simpler if I’d just waited, but that would’ve made things uncomfortable waiting in a crowded station with no way of knowing when the next subway would come or if the delay would be longer than expected. Sure I could’ve waited for the bus, but it didn’t feel right to be standing around doing nothing. There was also the possibility of catching another bus going my way. I could’ve simply explained my situation more clearly to the man behind the ticket counter, but that would’ve been too -
oh.
At that moment, I realized that embarrassment wasn’t limited to just being uncomfortable in group conversations. I didn’t register it as embarrassment because that’s my default state. When things get too difficult for me to explain, I find it easier to do it on my own.
The ironic part is that this happened right after I’d helped out with my volunteer organization for hard of hearing people to seek out services. And right next to the library that day, there was a booth for Deaf and Disability Arts Practices. I had an extraordinary amount of trouble asking the people there if a pamphlet available there was free or not, despite doing my best to gesture emphatically and raising my mask up to be better lipread. Even though these were people who should’ve been easily able to convey their agenda forward, communicating in a noisy environment was still an unsurmountable obstacle.
If you want to see yourself in a good light, you’ll avoid situations that’ll leave you looking bad. It’s also why so many elderly people are reluctant to admit their hearing which they’ve grown dependent on is starting to become less reliable than usual. As a result, there’ll be increased instances of flare-ups due to miscommunications and misunderstandings, keeping your distance from people you were once close to. Loneliness is one of the easiest causes of dementia, and deafness just enhances it.
There’ve been times when I’ve gotten frustrated over someone’s inability to understand me, despite my thinking that I was speaking clearly enough, a growing annoyance of having to repeat myself, the recipient unwilling to believe my words.
Though I’ve certainly never gone as far as to vehemently deny the existence of certain family members.
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