Hello Reader!
I didn’t expect to lose 40% of my hearing. Two and a half weeks ago, seemingly out of nowhere, the world got muddled. At first, I thought it was temporary—another passing effect of travel or the ear infection I’d had months before. But within days of returning home, I realized something was different. My good ear—the one I rely on—wasn’t working as it should. I underwent more rounds of stronger antibiotics, allergy meds, oral and topical steroids, and then more potent steroids, but nothing brought my hearing back. And, as the days passed, the uncertainty settled in: What if this doesn’t go away?
The Limits of Positivity
At first, I tried to frame it positively. This reframing could be a powerful invitation to be more present, tune out distractions, and focus on what’s right in front of me. And in a way, that was true. I had to pay closer attention to what I could hear, to the people speaking directly to me, to the immediate world instead of the noise beyond it. A 40% reduction in external sound required a 40% increase in presence. That sounded like a good thing…until the moment it wasn’t.
Beyond Positivity: Sitting with What Is
Then, reality hit. One day, I just felt sad and scared. I did what any self-respecting human in the age of Google does—I spiraled down a rabbit hole of medical articles, each one more terrifying than the last. Some people never get their hearing back. That thought gripped me; no positive reframing could suddenly shift the fear.
I needed a moment. I couldn’t just slap a happy face on it. So, I called a friend. Not someone to fix it or advise me on what to do—just someone who could be with me in that moment and hear me when I struggled to listen to myself.
“It’s okay that this feels hard today,” she said. “It is hard.”
“It’s okay to feel sad. It is sad and scary.”
She listened. And then she reflected what I was feeling, with love and acceptance. We sat in silence together, letting its weight be what it was. And somewhere in that space, I noticed the slightest shift. A little clarity. A thought: If this hearing loss is permanent, I’ll get a hearing aid. I’ll reach out to others who’ve been through this. I’ll follow up with the ENT.
Just like that, I had room to respond rather than react. The fear loosened its grip, and a little steadiness returned.
The Power of Being Seen and Heard
Not long ago, I wrote about how a small, intentional 10% shift can ultimately be transformational. But sometimes, life throws us a much bigger, unexpected shift—one we didn’t choose, like suddenly losing 40% of our hearing. In moments like these, the work isn’t in forcing small, deliberate changes; it’s in sitting with the shift, accepting it, and feeling into it before deciding what’s next.
This experience reminded me of something I learned decades ago: real change doesn’t come from rejection or resistance but from allowing things to be as they are.
I learned this years ago in an entirely different context. When I was 20, I thought I was too chubby to be attractive. Then I met my husband-to-be, who looked at me with total admiration and said, “You have a cute butt.” I remember staring over my shoulder in the mirror, seeing myself through his eyes for the first time. His love for me, as I was, created the tiniest space for me to love myself, too. And from that foundation—not from self-criticism, but from being okay exactly where I was—I found the energy to make the shifts I wanted toward fitness and adventure.
Acceptance as the Catalyst for Change
The thing is, suffering arises from resisting what is—pushing away fear, sadness, or uncertainty rather than allowing them to be. There’s a difference between feeling something deeply and suffering through it. When we stop resisting, allowing even our biggest emotions to surface, we create space for a more natural, easeful shift. The key lies in understanding that real change becomes possible when we stop resisting. And yet, we often believe that struggle and resistance are necessary for transformation
There’s often a hidden assumption that we must feel anger or frustration—or be motivated by something extreme—to effect change. However, I’ve found more room to respond with inner integrity when I’m not caught up in extreme emotions and am simply okay with where I am. Instead of spending energy berating myself or bemoaning the situation, I can lean into what I want to become or toward the potential I envision. Change doesn’t have to come from hate or frustration; it can happen lightly, even joyfully, from a place of acceptance of what is. When I accept where I am or what is, I can make a plan for where I want to go—without needing to fix what I think is “wrong.”
When I found myself slipping into fear and sadness about my hearing loss, I realized I didn’t need to pull myself together or reframe it into something more positive right away. I could accept where I was—feeling lost, scared, or frustrated—and let that experience be. And in that space, the something shifted.
Instead of fighting the emotions or rushing to a solution, I made room for them. Acceptance, not avoidance, gave me the clarity and space to decide what to do next.
Leaning Into What’s Next
Acceptance can be challenging for any number of reasons. Societal convention trains us to “put up a fight,” while the spiritual path seems to be about going for a rosy outlook. Both of these have some truth. We may need some energy to move forward, and an optimistic spin often helps. Still, if we dig deeper, we discover that we don’t have to be motivated by anger to find energy, and we don’t have to squash sadness to allow potential back in.
In my case, sadness and fear might have seemed like an “unspiritual” response. I should be more positive! But that wasn’t wholly authentic. I was scared and sad. The most powerful move for me then was to accept and be with it—to hear and allow it. From that messier place came perspective, space, and an opening again for leaning into something else.
That’s what my friend gave me that day. Not a fix. Not a pep talk. Just the gift of presence. The space to be exactly where I was, falling apart and all. And that opened the door for what came next.
Also, another silver lining? I’m so often the one others turn to, but this time, it was beautiful to let a friend be that person for me. It made me realize that receiving support is just as important as offering it—that friendship is a two-way street, built on moments of giving and allowing ourselves to receive.
Triage for Hard Days
- Cry first. Let yourself feel what you feel.
- Allow the sadness. Share it with someone who will listen without trying to fix it.
- Be where you are. Acceptance isn’t giving up—it’s creating space for what’s next.
So, if you find yourself spiraling, if you’re feeling the weight of something big, I invite you to reach out—to a friend, a confidante, or to me. Not for solutions per se, just to be heard. Because sometimes, that’s the only shift we need to find our way forward.
Good News & Upcoming Events
A Little Invitation
This week, consider this: Who is someone in your life who listens without trying to fix anything? The way my friend did for me when I needed it most. Can you reach out to them? Or perhaps, you can offer that kind of presence to someone else.
Smiles,
https://marijkemccandless.com
Kirkus Reviews endorses Naked in the Now!
Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 113 Cherry St #92768, Seattle, WA 98104-2205
