The holiday season has a way of stirring up something deep inside us — memories, emotion, nostalgia, even a sense of belonging. For me, it also stirs something else: sound. Not just any sound, but the sounds I thought I’d lost for good. As someone who lives with hearing loss, a hearing aid, and a cochlear implant, this time of year feels like an annual reminder of how far I’ve come and how much there is to appreciate.
The festive period brings its fair share of challenges — crowded rooms, overlapping conversations, clattering dishes, and all the sensory overload that comes with them. But it also brings extraordinary moments of joy in the small sounds many people barely notice. And for me, those moments are everything.
The first time I heard Christmas music clearly again
I’ll never forget the first time I heard “All I Want for Christmas Is You” by Mariah Carey through both ears — my hearing aid and my cochlear implant working together. And I’ll be honest: I am not a Mariah Carey fan. Not even a little bit.
It happened during a marathon 2007 Christmas shopping trip. You know the kind — hours wandering from store to store, trying to remember who you’ve already bought for, questioning your life choices, and wondering why you didn’t just shop online.
Somewhere between the food court and the fifth toy aisle, those unmistakable high notes came through. And for the first time ever, I heard the full song in stereo. Every bell. Every harmony. Every whistle note.
Part of me was genuinely impressed.
The other part of me wanted to run.
Because once it started… it didn’t stop.
Every shop. Every aisle. Every speaker in the entire shopping centre seemed determined to play Mariah Carey on a continuous loop — and now, thanks to modern technology, I could hear all of it. Crisp. Clear. Powerful. Almost too powerful.
I stood there thinking:
“This is amazing… and also slightly torturous.”
But looking back, it’s one of my favourite memories. Because even though I’m still not a Mariah fan, hearing that song properly for the first time — in all its festive, high-pitched glory — reminded me just how far I’d come.
And it proved something important: joy and humour can sit side-by-side. Sometimes, even in the middle of a shopping centre with Mariah Carey belting in both ears whether you like it or not.
Coping with noisy celebrations and sensory overload
Let’s be honest: holiday gatherings can be a minefield for anyone with hearing loss.
You’ve got:
- Kids running around
- Pots and pans crashing in the kitchen
- Music playing
- Conversations bouncing off every wall
The kind of chaos that leaves even hearing people rubbing their temples.
For me, this is where strategy comes in. Over the years, I’ve learned to:
- Position myself so I can see people’s faces
- Step outside for short breaks when things get too loud
- Adjust my programs on my hearing aid and cochlear implant
- Remind myself it’s okay to say, “Hang on — can you repeat that?”
It’s not about surviving the noise — it’s about staying connected in a way that feels safe and comfortable.
And when I give myself that permission, the gatherings feel far less overwhelming and far more enjoyable.
Appreciating the small sounds
If the big celebrations test my stamina, it’s the small sounds that fill me with gratitude.
- The gentle clink of glasses when we say cheers.
- The soft crackle of wrapping paper being torn open.
- Children laughing in the next room.
- The rustle of the Christmas tree as someone brushes past it.
- Even the sound of footsteps across the floor in the early morning before the house wakes.
These are sounds I once lived without. Now, they feel like little gifts — reminders that hearing is more than speech, more than comprehension. It’s sensory richness. It’s atmosphere. It’s texture.
I don’t take these moments for granted anymore. They ground me in the present and remind me how far I’ve come.
Gratitude for connection, technology, and community
The festive season always makes me reflect on how much I owe to the people and technology around me.
My cochlear implant and hearing aid aren’t just devices — they’re bridges. They connect me to my family, to music, to shared moments I couldn’t experience otherwise. They let me participate instead of sitting on the sidelines. And they allow me to hear my children, nephews & nieces laugh, my wife call my name, and the world buzz along around me.
But I’m equally grateful for the community — for others navigating hearing loss, for audiologists and hearing care professionals helping people reconnect with sound, and for everyone who takes the time to communicate with patience and kindness.
The holidays have a way of reminding us what matters most. For me, it’s connection, understanding, and the incredible privilege of being able to rediscover the world through sound.
Final thoughts
This time of year can be noisy, chaotic, and exhausting — but it can also be beautiful. Living with hearing loss doesn’t take away the magic of the season. In many ways, it adds to it. It teaches you to slow down, to look for the small moments, to appreciate every sound you can hear, and to find joy in unexpected places.
So as we wrap up the year, I’m choosing gratitude.
- For the sounds I hear.
- For the ones I still work hard to understand.
- And for the people and technology that make those moments possible.
Here’s to a season full of warmth, connection, and joy — in every sense of the word.
I would like to finish this post with a small gift to you: my favourite Christmas song, The Little Drummer Boy by for KING + COUNTRY. I hope this incredible version fills your heart with the same joy it brings me every time I hear it.
Talking Hearing Loss 
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