Consider invisible disabilities before judging others

“Why is your husband rude, aloof, and anti-social? I called out to him at our community center and he ignored me”.

What Do I Think? 

I often feel antisocial, aloof, and alone in noisy, crowded spaces. It’s not by choice—I have a disability that makes these situations incredibly difficult. For a long time, I thought I was the only one until I discovered a Facebook group of 5,400 others with the same condition: Single-Sided Deafness (SSD).

For many of us, this condition came on suddenly and without explanation. My right ear stopped functioning between 2 and 4 a.m. on July 1, 2012. The cause? Idiopathic—medical jargon for “we have no clue.”

One member of the Facebook group summarized our shared struggles perfectly:
“No one can see the fact that I have no idea who is talking to me or where any sound is coming from. No one can see how hard my brain is working to make sense of what I hear. No one can see how exhausted I am.”

Single-Sided Deafness often comes with a cruel two-for-one special: tinnitus. My hearing was replaced with a constant 24/7 buzzing, like an internal white noise machine. Others describe fluctuating ringing, whooshing sounds, or even a relentless brass band. Unlike visible disabilities, this constant noise is invisible—not even fancy machines or doctors can detect it.

The Facebook group has been a lifeline for many of us. It’s:

• Therapeutic: We share our experiences and empathize with one another.

• Educational: Members trade tips for coping, technology solutions, and strategies for dealing with loved ones who don’t understand.

• Welcoming: We e-embrace and guide new members, many of whom feel scared and isolated by their sudden disability.

Why Should You Care?

Chances are, you know someone with Single-Sided Deafness or another invisible disability. Maybe it’s a family member, friend, or colleague who seems aloof or even rude. The truth is, they might not be ignoring you—they may simply be struggling to process their surroundings.

Consider this: If I had one leg, you might offer to take the elevator with me. If I had one arm, you wouldn’t ask me to carry a bulky box. But what about only one functioning ear? Just because my disability isn’t visible doesn’t mean it doesn’t affect me.

If we’re in a loud environment—a bustling restaurant, a busy subway, an airplane cabin, or a noisy banquet—I may struggle to hear you or figure out where your voice is coming from. I’m not ignoring you; I’m simply trying to process what I can hear.

A fellow group member said it best:
"I keep reminding myself to be patient and that others can’t see what I’m going through. It’s better than yelling at people who accuse me of ignoring them or not paying attention. Sometimes, I wish my disability were more visible."

The next time you encounter someone who seems aloof, consider this: Could they be dealing with an invisible challenge? Awareness and empathy go a long way toward creating understanding and connection—for all of us.