Not Deaf Enough, Not Hearing Enough: Life in the Middle

If I had stayed entirely in the Deaf world, I may not have become the person I am today.

I wouldn't have danced to music I could hear.

I wouldn't have discovered the thrill of rhythms, songs, or even the beauty of spoken languages.

My cochlear implant didn’t make life easy—but it opened up possibilities.

It allowed me to step into the hearing world and taste the things I once thought were unreachable.

But that world came with a cost.

Because even now, I'm still not a fully "hearing" person.

I struggle in noisy environments.

I get lost in fast group conversations.

I ask someone to repeat a word, and they look at me as if I'm slow or distracted.

Sometimes I just smile—not because I understood—but because I’m too tired to explain that I didn’t.

Living in Between: The Invisible Space

I am not completely Deaf anymore.

But I am not truly hearing either.

I live in the space between.

Psychologists call it a liminal identity—living between two states, never fully one or the other.

And that space can be exhausting.

You're constantly adjusting, translating, performing.

You're accepted—but not entirely.

You participate—but don’t always belong.

In the Deaf world, I’m understood emotionally, but limited in action.

In the hearing world, I’m included practically, but misunderstood emotionally.

This middle space is confusing.

It’s a challenge. A journey. At times, even a burden.

What the Hearing World Doesn’t See

In group conversations, I’m constantly trying to piece together meaning.

If I miss one person’s sentence, I quickly turn to the next person to fill in the blanks.

But people often mistake my questions for annoyance, or assume I’m not paying attention.

What they don’t see is the mental overload happening inside me.

The frustration. The anxiety. The fatigue.

It's like all my emotions crash together—and I can’t always control them.

To cope, I isolate.

I go for long walks.

I sit alone in the library, just to breathe.

Sometimes, I pour everything out to my mom at the end of the day—and only then do I feel calm again.

Between Noise and Silence, I Found Myself

Even if I don’t feel fully accepted in either world, I’ve found meaning in the space between.

I’ve learned to dance—not just with my body, but with my challenges.

To feel music—not just with ears, but with movement.

To speak—not always with perfect sound, but with heart.

And to listen—not just to words, but to emotions behind them.

This middle space gave me perspective.

It taught me patience, resilience, and empathy.

 

A Note to Those Living “In Between”

If you're like me—someone who lives between two worlds—please know this:

You are not broken. You are not half.

You are whole, even when the world doesn’t see it.

You don’t need to fit perfectly into a single identity to be valid.

Whether you're Deaf, hearing, disabled, neurodivergent, or navigating cultures—you belong.

Even if it’s not to a place—but to yourself.

Because sometimes, the people who live in between?

They become the bridge the world needs most.