Dear Past Me,

Do you remember the days when life was a symphony of sounds—a world filled with the melodies of laughter, the rhythm of conversations, and the hum of everyday life? Back then, it seemed like those sounds would always be there, as natural as the air you breathed. Little did you know that a single illness would redefine your reality and take away the very essence of what once felt like an unshakeable certainty.

After grade 6, when that illness struck, it wasn’t just your ears that suffered; it was your spirit, your sense of identity, and the way you interacted with the world around you. What do you do when you’re a child, expecting to grow up like everyone else, only to have silence become your new normal? How do you find your footing in a world that suddenly feels distant and unfamiliar? These were the questions that haunted you, filling every moment with doubt and uncertainty.

Your parents, like you, grappled with the new reality, desperately seeking answers and holding on to every glimmer of hope. Each hospital visit, each consultation, each traditional treatment—it all blurred together in a whirlwind of desperate attempts to reclaim the life that was slipping away. But then, just as you started to lose hope, the faintest sound returned to your right ear. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t the full restoration you longed for, but it was something—a crack in the silence that gave you the courage to move forward.

You returned to school, clinging to that fragile victory and determined to prove to yourself that you could still thrive. With a hearing aid and a renewed sense of purpose, you re-entered a world that didn’t wait for you to catch up. Every class, every conversation, every social interaction was a battle—one that required you to be constantly vigilant, to strain and focus in ways your peers couldn’t even imagine. Yet you stood firm. You persevered.

But just as you began to find your footing, life dealt another blow: complete deafness. The world that had slowly started to reopen seemed to collapse once more.

What was left when the last echoes of sound faded? Would you be able to survive in a world that communicates through voices you could no longer hear? You didn’t retreat; you adapted. You mastered lip-reading, used your reading and writing skills as lifelines, and powered through the remaining years of junior school. Silence, once a source of fear, became your companion. You completed grade 9 with distinction, not because the journey was easy but because you refused to be defined by your limitations. Every letter you wrote, every word you read, and every concept you grasped became a triumph over adversity.

When you entered senior school, the challenges multiplied. The oral English exams, a seemingly insurmountable barrier, barred you from a part of the curriculum that others took for granted. But did that stop you? No. You found another way, focusing on what you could control and channelling your energy into your love for technology. When you decided to pursue computer science at GTTI, you faced an entirely new set of trials. Could you, a person with no formal training in sign language and no auditory input, navigate a technical field that demanded constant communication and collaboration?

The answer was a resounding “yes.” You refused to let the walls of silence confine you. Despite not having the means to communicate in conventional ways, you found your language—the language of persistence, creativity, and problem-solving. Your journey through GTTI was not just about learning to code or mastering concepts; it was about proving to yourself and others that your worth wasn’t diminished by your disability. Your resilience turned what others saw as a disadvantage into an undeniable strength.

And now, because of everything you’ve endured, I’ve become a Backend Engineer—a career that showcases our capabilities, innovation, and relentless spirit. This journey was never just about achieving professional success; it’s been about redefining what success means for someone who’s faced the loss of something so fundamental. You took an experience like silence, which many would see as a limitation, and transformed it into a story of growth, courage, and unyielding resolve. You laid the groundwork, and I’ve built on it, piece by piece.

Dear Past Me, the battles you fought paved the way for the life I now live—a life where deafness is not a limitation but a facet of who we are. Your tenacity is the reason I can stand here today and say, “I am not defined by my lack of hearing. I am defined by what I choose to do despite it.” You are the foundation upon which I’ve built everything. Every struggle you endured, every tear you shed, every doubt you conquered—all of it contributed to the strength and clarity with which I now approach the world.

What would you think if I told you that you would one day become an advocate, not just for yourself but for countless others facing similar barriers? That you would stand as a symbol of resilience and hope, proving that disability is not a measure of one’s potential but a mere aspect of a much richer, more complex narrative? You would have laughed or perhaps scoffed in disbelief. And yet, here I am, embodying that vision and carrying forward the torch you lit during those silent nights filled with unanswered questions.

Dear Past Me, you taught me that adversity doesn’t break us—it reveals our truest selves. And I want you to know that every ounce of effort you invested, every moment of perseverance you displayed, has blossomed into a life of fulfilment and purpose. You’ve turned isolation into empowerment, pain into passion, and silence into a powerful story that resonates beyond words.

Your journey has never been about reclaiming what was lost; it has always been about embracing what remains and transforming it into something extraordinary. You are proof that the strongest voices are not always the loudest—they are the ones that refuse to be silenced. You have illustrated that disability does not equate to inability. You have proven that no challenge can stifle your spirit if you possess the will to forge ahead.

In conclusion, Past Me, let us celebrate the journey we’ve undertaken together—the triumphs and trials that have shaped who we are today. You’ve shown me that our identity is not merely defined by the challenges we face, but by the courage and creativity with which we respond to them. Each step forward has been a testament to our resilience, illuminating the path for others who may feel lost in their silence.

As I stand here now, fueled by the lessons you imparted and the dreams you dared to dream, I promise to honour your legacy by continuing to rise above, inspire change, and advocate for a world where every voice—regardless of its volume—can be heard and celebrated. Together, we have transformed our silence into a powerful anthem of hope, determination, and boundless possibility.

With love,
Your Very Self,
Present Me.

#Deafness The complete or partial loss of hearing. #Resilience The ability to recover from difficulties and keep going. #Adversity Difficulties or hardships that challenge a person. #Perseverance Continued effort despite obstacles and setbacks. #Identity Defining oneself beyond challenge. #Adaptation Adjusting to new conditions or challenges. #Empowerment Gaining confidence and control over one’s path. #Innovation Creating new ways to solve problems and overcome challenges. #Advocacy Standing up for oneself and others. #Inspiration Something that motivates or encourages positive action.