Voice Within Silence

  🎙️ Wired for Sound: Voices from the Cochlear Implant Wellness Collective I’m so excited to share the launch of our new podcast series, created together with my founder Dr. Vie . This space brings together science, lived experiences, and real stories from the cochlear implant and hearing loss community. 💡 In Episode 1: From Silence to Signal, I share my own journey: growing up in silence in Coimbatore, studying in an Oral School for the Hearing Impaired, and receiving my cochlear implant at the age of 5. It was the beginning of finding my voice between two worlds. This is just the first of many voices we will be sharing from parents, professionals, and cochlear implant users around the world. 💙 Grateful to Dr. Vie for co-creating this platform with me, and to everyone who supports this mission of awareness and inclusion. 🎧 If you’d like to listen, here’s the link: https://open.spotify.com/episode/0TM4ILlBD5N4qyULA6A97H?si=xRSUz3KxRU2WtkDdCAGfHA 💙 We’d love for you to join u...

  Beyond Normal: A Candle or a Laser Beam Sometimes, I catch myself comparing.   I look at people around me, the ones who hear without even thinking about it. They were born with sound. They wake up in the morning and the world already speaks to them. And then I look at myself. My hearing didn’t come easily. It wasn’t a gift handed to me at birth. It was something I had to fight for, with surgeries, therapy, practice, mistakes, and countless moments of doubt. There were days when I asked,  Why me? Why can’t I just be “normal”? But over time, I realized something important: comparing myself to someone who was born with hearing is like comparing a candle to a laser beam. A candle burns because it was meant to. A laser beam shines because it was engineered to cut through the dark with incredible power. Both give light, but in very different ways. That’s how I see myself now. Not as “less than normal.” Not as someone always trying to catch up. But as someone whose journey cr...

  The Ceiling Fan That Haunts Me People think trauma comes from big accidents or tragedies. For me, it comes from a ceiling fan. The sound of its blades is harmless to most. For me, it is sharp, heavy, and cruel. The constant wind sound,  whoosh, whoosh, whoosh , drowns out voices and scatters words until they slip away. It takes my confidence, my focus, and sometimes my opportunities. And it always happens in the moments that matter most. At the hospital, I sit in front of the doctor. He wears a mask, already making lipreading harder, and asks me about my symptoms. I lean forward, trying to catch every word. But above me, the fan spins. The rushing wind mixes with his muffled voice, and suddenly his questions blur into noise. My ears strain, my mind panics.  What if I miss something important about my health?  Luckily, my mom is beside me. She listens carefully and explains everything afterward. Without her, I would leave with confusion instead of clarity. During m...

 I Beat Silence. Rejection Can’t Win. For some, silence feels like peace. For me, it was once a wall. It was a barrier that kept me from laughter, music, and conversation.  Breaking that was was the hardest opponent I have ever faced. Through surgery, therapy, and endless practice, I fought for every sound, every word, every piece of communication. Slowly, I won, I found my voice. But here's the strange part. Even after all that, I still hesitate to speak. Take a simple dinner with friends. The cafe is noisy, everyone is talking at once, and my cochlear implant is doing its best to keep up. I smiled and nod, trying to join in, but it feels like chasing words in a storm. Then someone says, " You're so quiet today ", They don't mean to hurt me, but it stings. My silence in that moment is mistaken for disinterest. Inside, I want to scream: " Do you know how hard I've worked just to be part of this conversation?"   That's when I catch myself shrinkin...

 The Doctor I Dreamt to Be, and the Doors That Closed When I was a 6-year-old child, I dreamt of becoming a doctor. I didn’t think about barriers or rules back then, I just held onto that simple dream with all my heart. Years later, when I was in 12th standard, it was time to make real decisions about courses and college admissions. Medicine was still the only word my heart held on to. I pictured myself in a white coat, holding a stethoscope, serving people, and breaking barriers. But one day, when I spoke about pursuing MBBS, the words that came back to me crushed something inside: “People with a problem above the hip aren’t allowed to study medicine or become doctors.” It was said so firmly, as if it were a law of nature. Hearing that, I felt the words “you can’t” echo in my heart. I can still recall that moment my dream breaking, falling apart right in front of me. I walked out with a forced smile, but inside, I was in pieces. That day, I had to let go. Not because I wa...

  Rejection is just background noise. As a Cochlear Implant user, I’ve faced rejections that had nothing to do with my skills. Sometimes, it felt like decisions were made before the interview even began. For a while, it stung. I kept asking myself: “Why am I being judged for something I didn’t choose?” But then I realized something powerful: life never rejected me. When silence tried to define me, I refused. I finished school, earned my degree, handled research projects, internships, and presentations. Every step demanded resilience. Every achievement reminded me that effort speaks louder than noise. That’s why I no longer see rejection as a wall. It’s just background noise. Every “no” feels like static in my implant: temporary, annoying, but never permanent. The truth is my “yes” is still out there, waiting. And just like my soundprocessor’s battery pack, every time I recharge myself with belief, hard work, and consistency, I return stronger than before. This journey taught me an ...