Just for a moment, imagine having a tea kettle going off next to both of your ears.
Perhaps not *right* next to your ears, but maybe about 15 feet away from each of them.
Now, pair that sound with a softer but certainly identifiable sound of a morse code transmitter. You know the sound I mean...dit dit da dit...dit...da da da...dit...etc.
For me, this unique little pairing of noises has become my every waking moment. It is there when I first awake and it is there (especially) when I lay my head down to sleep at night. The 'tea kettle' tone comes in at a scorching 16,000 Hz, which is pretty close to the highest sound frequency capable of being heard by a person in my age range.
From this there is no escape. There is no solace and there is no peace and quiet. Ever.
If you think this sort of thing has the potential to drive someone to insanity, you'd be absolutely correct. This affliction is called Tinnitus, a French word for "ringing in the ears". Although really, the sounds I 'hear' seem to be emanating not from my ears, but from inside of my head, in the top right quadrant, actually. I began noticing these sounds about 6 months or so ago, during a particularly stressful time of my life (job loss). Since then the intensity has only grown and my quality of life as a result has only decreased.
Now, I don't care how long I stay inside or if I even ever see any other human being throughout the course of the day.
The condition this has put me in is akin to where I imagine Brian Wilson was, mentally, during his darkest days.
It would probably be ok if this issue was the only health-related struggle I had to endure but sadly, it's not. I also suffer from chronic bulging disc pain in my back and neck, as well as hip bursitis and a shoulder impingement. All of these are permanent, untreatable and chronic afflictions.This all so far sounds like the ranting of an old man, doesn't it?
But I'm 34. Not young, I know...but certainly not old.
There isn't a whole lot to be found on research related to this disease, aside from some studies on the effectiveness of "masking" (producing sounds that cover the 'T') and something called Tinnitus Retraining Therapy, or TRT. The latter is an often years-long process of training the brain to not react negatively to the recognition of the noises coming from within it. The costs of TRT are in the tens of thousands of dollars and positive results are never guaranteed. The success rate across the board sits in the 50-55% range, within 5 years of the end of TRT sessions.
Apparently there are some interesting clinical trails going on in Europe right now, that have to do with sending ultrasonic waves into the inner ear in order to incite healing of the tiny hairs that line the cochlea (it is damage to these hairs that is believed to be the cause of most Tinnitus symptoms). Even if these trials show promise, it's estimated this kind of therapy might be available in 15-20 years, optimistically.
And, speaking of optimism, mine has just about dried up. It isn't enough that I have to deal with the aforementioned health issues (combined conveniently with depression, now) in sequence or at different times in my life. No.
The fates deem it necessary for me to fight through all of this every day all in unison and without reprieve. This, all while maintaining some semblance of a positive attitude in my day-to-day professional life. Because no employer wants someone on their payroll who can't at least pretend to be in a good mood on most days.
The world now has a very certain hue of grey and a sort of dark magenta...almost blood colored. Deoxygenated blood colored.
It's when you really begin to suffer on more than one level and for a long enough time that everything around you simply...dies. It just dies. The sun, the grass, the ripples along the surface of the lake outside my home...it all just dies. Resigning to the rest of life knowing I am heretoforth condemned to anguish has removed any hope I may have had for a relationship, happiness or - and I would lovingly accept this option - simple contentedness.
I can't even meditate. I can't experience a mere 60 seconds of peace...I mentioned earlier in this post the very real possibility of insanity resulting from all of this. I have to say that I feel it coming on.
I now have a much deeper understanding of true mental breakdown of the novel-worth variety.
This is the kind of madness that makes a man inhuman. It's what happens to people before their entire lives and the people they love fall apart and crash to the ground in shocking chaos. There is never, ever *true* understanding of this kind of suffering by others unless they themselves endure it, which I could and would never opt for even if the choice was presented to me.
This madness I feel creeping like an invasive mold eating at the core of an otherwise thriving plant...this is the eventuality I now must face, or...well...there is another option.
There is one last place I can look for relief because from what I have gathered in this 34-year journey so far, it's all that is left.
Psychotherapy.
Seeing as I've explored just about every last option to alleviate what ails me (from chiropractic to surgery, from nootropic supplementation to exercise and from anti-depressants to detoxification and back again), this really is the final frontier.
However familiar I might be with psychotherapy (I saw a therapist for a spell some years ago), it's what I'm deeming my last resort. I am going to try with as strong of a heart as I have in my chest to use the help of a trained therapist to try and find a way through this cacophony.
It was very hard to pick up that phone, call and make the appointment, but it's set.
I do not have anywhere else to turn, and I hope to whatever deity may exist that I am able to craft a way to continue living this life.
I don't know how that will happen.
I need magic woven with miracles when this world offers neither.
It can't ever be said that I did not try.
Wish me luck.
