Tinnitus affects not only hearing but also the heart.
It is a condition that unsettles people—not just because of the sound itself, but because of what it brings: loss, uncertainty, the question of how to move forward. In my consultations, I witness time and again the incredible resilience people show, despite everything.
This is the story of a man who had to leave behind not only his country but also a part of himself. Yet, he found a way to move forward.
In color and sound
He is a proud father, a grown man who fled Syria with his family a year and a half ago. The reason they can never return is too painful to tell. There are no words to capture that grief. But today is not about what was lost. It is about what remains.
I first met him together with his wife. A strong woman, wearing a headscarf, but her real strength lay in her posture, her gaze, the way she spoke. Because her husband did not speak Dutch, she took the lead, speaking with love, with respect.
They barely spoke the language. Since an interpreter was no longer reimbursed, we agreed that their son would translate over the phone. But I knew the consultation would take more than an hour, that I would use drawings and images to explain tinnitus. That requires time and care. I suggested scheduling a new appointment at the audiology center, with their son present.
Right before the summer holidays, my schedule was full. But I knew how important this was. So, I set an extra appointment—after work, on a Monday evening. That way, we could take the time needed. And that Monday, they came—this time with their son.
A young man, about twenty years old, fluent in Dutch and English. A boy who already carried the weight of adulthood simply because he spoke the language. In the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king.
This time, the father spoke. His words poured out like a waterfall. Through his son, he told me about the terrible things he had witnessed, how his ears had become infected, how war had deprived him of medical care. Now, he had severe hearing loss and an unbearable ringing in both ears. Tinnitus.
I explained. About the anatomy of the ear, how stress and tension affect hearing. How the brain searches for meaning, how building a new life in the Netherlands adds to his uncertainty. I saw understanding in his eyes. And then, something beautiful happened.
We talked about pitch and frequency, and suddenly, he looked at me with pride. In Arabic, he explained, a person’s voice is not just described as high or low—but also in color. Not the volume, but the tone has a color. How beautiful is that! Appearance extends beyond what is visible.
Language as sound. Sound as color. Where Art meets Science.
More than words
Before they left, I asked his son about his future. A polite, intelligent young man, full of gratitude. And when I asked how he felt about Syria, his eyes filled with tears.
"Syria is such a beautiful country, with such kind people. But there are forces—from outside—destroying it. It’s not Muslims, not ISIS. They no longer exist. It’s others, people who profit from war. But why does the media always say: ‘Perpetrator is IRANIAN’ or ‘MOROCCAN’ in capital letters? Why that focus on nationality?"
His question lingered.
Is the news still meant to inform, or just to entertain? What draws the most viewers? What fuels division, and what contributes to peace?
In my work, I often see how people get stuck in their thoughts. This is where ACT comes in. Acceptance and Commitment Therapy teaches us how to handle painful emotions—not by fighting them, but by allowing them. The father and son in this story are a living example of that. They have learned to move forward, despite everything. ACT is not about ‘fixing’ but about psychological flexibility—the ability to be present in the moment, no matter how uncomfortable it is.
They no longer fight their situation. They move through it. Their values—family, hope, gratitude—keep them standing.
A different perspective
We spoke further about language and identity. The father told me how Syria was once a place where people lived peacefully together, regardless of religion.
"You know," he said, "we used to say: ‘God is great, and He is in everything.’ In the trees, in the water, in all of us. But the world has changed. People have made God so small, as if He only exists for the one who shouts the loudest."
His son nodded. "People don’t understand that God is in everything. Just like that color in someone’s voice. The real art is in seeing and appreciating that, instead of focusing on the differences."
And suddenly, I saw the parallel with tinnitus. The harder you fight it, the worse it gets. Just like with thoughts and emotions we don’t want to face. ACT teaches us not to battle tinnitus, but to accept it and focus our energy on what truly matters: family, work, health.
As we said goodbye, I asked him if Syria would ever recover.
He smiled. "God knows," he said calmly. "It is up to God. In Sha Allah."
And I realized: hope is the most powerful force that keeps people moving. Not as a passive wish, but as an active strength. Hope is what keeps this man and his son going. Hope is what makes them hold on to their values, despite all that has been taken from them.
"God is not somewhere far away," he had said. "He is in everything."
And I thought of my grandfather. How he always used to say it too: "Es gott bleef!"
It's up to God. He understood it back then. And today, it is still true.
In Sha Allah – إِنْ شَاءَ ٱللَّٰهُ
The strength lies within the human being.
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