Some say that man's greatest fear is dying. It's the final frontier into a realm where control is certainly not ours. Well, I worry about it, too, not because mortality, where Earth has passed away, but more because I'm truly scared of what will then await me -- after death, that is. You see, to dwell on death is absolutely horrifying. All these stories of Hell have taken shelter in our minds for decades and decades faithfully, and until that final moment -- when death descends upon us -- the truth is so elusive; the outcome like a riddle. Well, with extreme noxacusis, that's all changed for me.
Honestly, I'm ready for death, but only on God's terms. I hope He'll take me sooner rather than later since I'm battling with life as an incompatible vessel. As a young, triumphant man, I never thought I'd say this -- I always yearned to live. But nox destroys reality in every single way. Only those who know its hell can understand the pain. I do believe in Jesus, though -- that Heaven does await me, and those who choose Him truly. But despite that, I'm always so hard on myself. I always feel that I'm not worthy enough, even though I've asked for forgiveness on more occasions than I can count, even. Thus is the nature of OCD, I guess. It plays with my emotions. And nox is like the Devil now, adding to the fire.
Most will never know it, but something cruel inside the ears can bastardize reality and ruin life in every way: a beast called noxacusis. For those who sadly have it, they're walking on bedeviled grounds that most have never seen -- a battle with the universe and everything she stands for. Having nox is fatal, not for their mortality but quality-of-life. They're forced to hide from every sound -- any kind of sound. When nox is that severe, they don't have a choice. Blatant disobedience will cause their ears to worsen more.
Every noise -- big and small -- will conjure pain inside their ears, like flames or knives with violent force, every day and every night. And other hells will follow, too. Tinnitus is also a common problem with nox, a collection of phantom noises that often worsen, too, with every move they make. So it's super unrelenting. For the sake of their survival, obeying noxacusis -- their new, perverted master -- is absolutely crucial. It's not a choice at all. They're locked in steel chains. But nonetheless, it sadly reaps disaster, even with obedience. Sacrifice runs rampant, as life is fully nullified with sound that's everywhere. With severe nox, they lose ninety-nine percent of their precious life -- no exaggeration -- 'cause sound is just too sovereign.
It's super rare, though. It's so rare, in fact, that only a small facet of society will ever cross its path. As I said before, uncharted territories dominate their world -- fresh grounds that spite the creation itself. My estimation is generous, though, allowing one-hundred people for every million to have it. Though the number is likely much smaller than that, especially for severe levels of nox. In a city of one-million, for example, there are only two known cases of severe noxacusis -- myself and another individual in Columbus, Ohio. I'm part of communities that span the entire globe, and that trend is recurring in every corner of the world, where a couple per million are battling what I'm battling. Talk about bad luck.
My rational fear with nox is that the world won't care about its wrath and won't pursue a cure. What happens to us doesn't happen to people in the big scheme of things. As I said above, we're like one in a million or maybe two. Nox is so rare, in fact, that there's really a greater chance of being struck by lightning: one in fifteen-thousand according to the National Weather Service. So people won't worry about nox for the same reason -- the rarity. And you don't see people worrying about lightning either, do you? Well, there's your answer. They don't need to worry about either, because the possibility of either occurring is so slim that it doesn't warrant the need. For the people it does happen to, they're just written off as causalities in a world that's occasionally so tragic that it's beyond their grasp or measure.
But anyway, my name's J. D. -- a thirty-seven year old male with severe noxacusis. My loudness discomfort levels are so low that they're mostly in the teens. So as you can imagine, I feel pain to every sound and have to isolate. Even my own home is often not safe. That's how bad I am. And not only that ... I have severe tinnitus, too -- electrical and painful in how it feels daily. I'm trekking down a shaky path of mystery, tears, and broken dreams. It's totally egregious, and evil to its brittle core, as pain and awful suffering are always at the forefront -- a life of harsh uncertainty that's full of paradox; with loopholes in that mix, too, allowing my survival.
The loopholes are defiant. They're unrelenting bullies, breathing down my aching neck. They preside over every inch, every moment, every second of this hell. You see ... nox never kills you. And ultimately, that scathing loophole keeps the paradox alive, allowing sufferers to exist under the confines of hell and unimaginable duress. No matter how bad it gets, mortality is never on the plate. You'd think the body would finally give out at some point, via failures in the brain or central nervous system, but nope. Death is not a luxury. It kills us in every way except the fact we're breathing.
Since every sound is weaponized, it forces me to isolate and not engage with anything. I'm homebound like a prisoner. But as I said before, I don't have a choice. Choosing disobedience is not a real option. I'd worsen more and more and more, and have to die to end it all -- not 'cause nox would pull the plug, but more 'cause it would torture me and force me off the planet, as realms of hell and suffering would make life too unbearable. There is no cap to this. And I feel that suicide isn't an option for religious reasons.
My current state is so bad that my quality-of-life is one percent or so. While fighting, I'm also trying to preserve what little I have left. But it's winning, sadly. Nox has got the upper hand, even though I'm careful. Thing is, sound is everywhere in life. With severe nox, even tiny sounds are like a force to be reckoned with. So life becomes impossible in every single way, as sound is tied to everything, which carries poison everywhere. There's no way to escape it. The planet's inhospitable.
And as I said before, nox doesn't have a cap. It can always get worse. It's not like "Dante's Inferno" with nine circles of Hell. There are endless circles with nox. And no matter how bad it gets, it never kills a person. Though it does cause some to take their lives when things get too abysmal. The nature of nox is very cruel -- as cruel as cruel can be. It takes your life so viciously and everything you love, but leaves you here to see it. And the world doesn't care, as nox is super rare, which adds insult to injury. To convince outsiders that it's really real is a hard enough task, but to also realize that no treatments or cures are underway adds additional layers of jaded disparity to this journey.
I lost my life two years ago when I took a herb called turmeric. I had mild, stable nox and mild tinnitus. But now, both are very severe and I'm fighting to survive. Before this, I had big plans for the future. I was excelling at my job and a promotion was in the works. I was dating people. I envisioned a future where I'd someday be married and buy a house -- a world of prosperity. But everything is gone now: my job and opportunities; my hobbies and my car; and worse, my precious family.
Had I never taken turmeric, I'd likely be in Indianapolis, Indiana right now instead of Columbus, Ohio. My brother went to Indy to pursue a job in television broadcasting. We worked together for twenty years in different media jobs. An NBC hub was our longest collaboration for thirteen years. So I'm confident that I would've followed suit and joined him for work there. I might even be engaged or married by now. Who knows? I'd be enjoying car show circuits and summer dreams, soaking up the sun. I'd shop and go to movies, and dine at restaurants. I'd cherish people daily, having so much fun. I'd make the most of life, traveling and roaming. I've always wanted to go to Ireland to trace my family roots, too. And I've always wanted to rent a cabin in the woods, or a beach house that overlooks the ocean. I love Atlanta, Georgia, too. I've been there many times. So I'd likely go there for vacations as well.
However, my struggle with nox has allowed me to meet my amazing girlfriend, Patricia, who also has nox. So that is definitely a beautiful plus and I love her to pieces. If I could heal or improve dramatically, I'd marry her ASAP and start a life together. She's currently in California, though, so I'd likely go there unless we both healed. Maybe she would come here then. We're open to both ideas.
To be honest, I've always imagined my elderly years as positive journeys. I'd grow to be an old man with great fortune and bliss. The silver hair and wrinkles, too, would overtake my youth. I'd have my wife beside me, aging like a gem. Everything would shine. Having kids, however, always seemed unlikely, as I've been dealing with nox for so long. It crushed so many dreams; things that normal people take for granted, even. But I never dreamt that I'd be here -- this current situation, or undiluted hell, especially when I was so careful for twenty years. I've been battling nox and T since age seventeen. But they were mostly mild for twenty years. After three years, I recovered from a moderate state with super mild T and nox, but now I'm just the opposite -- severe's an understatement.
My current situation is so bad that I'm doing absolutely nothing to survive, because doing something -- anything, really -- causes setbacks or worsenings. Nox is the most evil thing ever. Even the most simple things cause problems. Bathing and brushing teeth even cause flares. A recent shower with double ear protection caused me to lose more tolerance. Now, even whispers hurt. What kind of madness is that? Even people in hospice care can bathe with help. Problem is, when you're completely allergic to sound in life, it introduces a paradox of seismic proportions. Every task requires noise.
If I don't improve or heal along the way, it puts into motion my worst fears: that I'm doomed to this atrocity for years and years to come; decades possibly. And I don't know how to do that, really. I take it one day at a time. It's an unbelievably daunting thought to know that there are forty or fifty more years of this in the works, with worsenings coming, too. Like, is that even possible? Can a human really endure that? I don't know. I just rely on Jesus to get me through each day. I'm a believer in Him.
Obviously, the idea that suffering should dominate life is not a pleasant one. No one wants that. But for me, the Earth is truly dead now, as the construct is ultimately poison for these failed ears. The beauty of my home is sadly dejected and replaced by misery. Life should be lavender fields, glowing sunsets, and nights of endless passion, as I gaze upon upon the boundless stars that rule this universe. I can't believe a vicious thing has robbed me of all that: this hell called noxacusis. I yearn to overcome it -- to get my precious life back.
Thank you to everyone for taking the time to read this article, it's well appreciated.
Hopefully it helped in any kind of way
So much love as always!.
DV.
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