By Emmalee Watts
@hollowtwin
I am a partially deaf musician.
I have profound, inner-ear damage in my right ear as a result of Idiopathic Sudden Sensorineural Hearing Loss (ISSHL). This allows me to only be able to pick-up certain low frequencies with roughly five-to-ten per cent hearing ability. This sudden hearing loss phenomenon affects one in 100,000 people each year and can be triggered by a virus or injury. I was the one. This is my story.
I was 12 years old. My parents had divorced the year before and I was pursuing my new-found, to-be-short-lived interest: horses. I was introduced to the world of horses by my father’s new girlfriend, Janet* whose family owned a ranch. I had cultivated a bond with a particular male horse named Tommy, who I ended up nick-naming “Tommy Thunderbolt” in reference to a Three Stooges episode.
It was Remembrance Day 2005, I had the day off school so Janet* asked me if I wanted to come to the show park for a ride with Tommy as he hadn’t been getting much exercise lately due to switching stables.
I excitedly accepted the offer and an hour later I was high up on Tommy’s strong back riding along a wide path at a slow trot with Janet riding alongside me. I was comfortable with Tommy at this point and it was no longer suggested to me to wear any padding or helmet, especially if we were just out for a slow walk.
As we were trotting along, I felt a jolt and within seconds, Tommy had begun sprinting and there was nothing I could do to control him. He then began to kick his back legs up violently behind him repeatedly as I hung on for dear life. I learned later it was a full 10 bucks.
Finally, I couldn’t hold on any longer and plummeted onto concrete smashing the right side of my face and head where a helmet would have easily protected me. The only immediate injury I suffered was a sore jaw and head, as well as many, many scratches.
Fast forward a year later to my first year of high school, sitting in a stuffy, packed gym for an assembly. I had been situated on the right side of the gym right next to a stack of large speakers which blasted music for what must have been an hour or more, into my right ear. At the time, I was so immersed in the presentation that I wasn’t paying attention to just how loud this sound was right next to me, even though I had always been extremely sensitive to sound throughout my childhood.
I walked out of the assembly unable to hear out of my right ear. I felt dizzy and disoriented but thought it was just temporary as is the feeling of coming out of a concert and having your ears ringing. Five days later, it had not improved, so my mother took me to an ENT who was completely baffled and sent me for an MRI which, of course, I had to wait a couple months for. In the meantime, I was taken to specialist after specialist who all had different theories but I couldn’t get even one concrete answer, and my hearing had not yet come back.
The only way I could describe it to anyone was that it sounded like everything was muffled, like it was underwater. My MRI finally came and went and showed absolutely no evidence of any structural damage. A ruptured eardrum had been ruled out, which left my specialists and my parents scratching their heads. While the search for answers continued, I was having to adjust to life with half my hearing and this was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do. Because I played music.
Music had been a part of my life since I was in utero. I was exposed to and deeply moved by classical music as a small child through my mother, then being immersed in my father’s love for blues and rock, which he played every night on his Stratocaster in the basement. The basement was where we kept all the instruments. It included an upright piano, drum kit, flute and roughly five guitars. I was put in piano lessons at age five and picked up my dad’s acoustic guitar at age six, but stuck mainly to the piano for the years to come as I climbed through the levels of the Royal Conservatory of Music for 10 years. I was introduced to bass guitar when I joined concert band at age 11, as my father refused to let me be yet another kid who was forced to learn the clarinet. I developed a love and real skill on the bass, playing in both orchestral and jazz settings. I also sang in choir and wrote my own songs almost obsessively around the ages of 11 to 13 and listened to all sorts of genres of music.
When I suddenly lost my hearing, I had to adjust to only being able to function at half capacity when doing the things that I loved; the things that were my whole life. Singing, playing, writing, listening–it all changed. It became a challenge. But as it became clear that this was something that wasn’t going to get fixed any time soon, my only option was to accept it and learn that the show must go on. I focused on my gratitude for my left ear which, to this day, is in perfect condition. I am thankful for that.
After reaching a point of acceptance of my deafness, my parents and I abandoned our search for answers, and I continued to adapt and move forward with music. I graduated from an Arts Academy as a music major where I spent my last few years of high school. I then went on to learn about the Music Industry in my post-secondary education where I met my best friend who then quickly became my bandmate, as I began to focus primarily on guitar.
In 2012, we formed what would soon become Hollow Twin. As we evolved through the years, from playing covers to writing original songs, we discovered our own unique sound which began as rock but slowly morphed into dark folk. Over the past seven years, we have released 4 EPs, toured across Canada, and are currently in the process of writing our first Full-Length album.
Over the last 13 years, as I’ve gotten used to life being deaf, I’ve almost evolved to a point where I ignore it and keep it somewhat of a secret shame. The only time I will ever divulge that I’m deaf is when I am either recording or sound-checking; when it’s absolutely necessary.
I have never wanted to think of myself as disabled and I never saw it as something that had to be labeled as such or make me feel any less capable of anything. You may ask my I haven’t bothered to just get a hearing aid all these years? The real answer is that I don’t have a good answer. There is no reason.
Perhaps it was the fact that I’ve felt embarrassed and ashamed of my deafness as it is and I don’t need a clunky hearing aid sitting on my ear aging me and taking away my pride and confidence. It may have also been that I have never had the financial means to afford one.
It wasn’t until very recently, in the past couple months, that things started to shift for me. It was strongly suggested to me that I get a hearing aid by none other than my bandmate, Becky, who knows my struggle well and is directly affected by disability when we sing live together in harmony. It finally caught up with me. I had to face it if I wanted to move forward in my musical career.
This has been an incredibly healing and important process for me. Having recently gotten real information for the first time from the Western Institute for the Deaf and Hard-of Hearing, I found out that it was ISSHL. It was here that I learned the details of my inner ear damage and received confirmation that I was never going to be able to hear out of that ear again, not even with a hearing aid. My only option is a recently developed, more expensive “Cross-Over” unit.
Over the past few months, I have been able to summon the confidence to allow me to confront my reality which is my disability which is a part of me, and I no longer want to feel ashamed of that. I have come this far in overcoming a great obstacle, and for the first time, I am realizing that and allowing myself to feel proud of that. I am beginning the process of letting go of the resentment I feel towards the horse, towards Janet, towards the speaker, towards myself.
I guess the real lesson I’ve learned is that your ability to achieve what you were put on this earth to do, should not be inhibited by your disability. If you can get to a point where you can accept yourself and your challenges, and reach your true potential in spite of your obstacles, you will find no limitations. You will not be ashamed. You will not be treated differently. You will rise in the face of adversity.
*Name has been changed
Emmalee Watts is a Vancouver based musician with a background in classical piano, jazz bass and vocal studies and is a self-taught guitarist. She graduated from Capilano University with a diploma in Arts & Entertainment Management. She can be found playing guitar in dark folk band, Hollow Twin, which she formed with her best friend in 2012.
