Episode 150 - The Hobby Tinnitus took from me (And how I claimed it back)

Hey Tinnitus Friends and Family,

Cycling was everything to me.
And then tinnitus started.
Suddenly, the one thing that used to give me peace became unbearable.

Why I stopped cycling:

First: I was exhausted.
All my energy was going into coping with tinnitus.
Googling constantly. Trying supplements. Obsessing over whether it was louder or quieter.
I had nothing left for cycling. It felt like too much.

Second—and this was harder:
When I did try to ride after a couple of months, all I could hear was the tinnitus.
I'd be cycling through a forest. Beautiful landscape. Birdsong. Wind.
And all I could focus on was the ringing.
It ruined the whole experience.
So I stopped.

I told myself: "Just until things settle."
Weeks became months. Months became almost a year.
I was waiting for the tinnitus to get quieter so I could enjoy cycling again.
But it never got quieter.

What losing it cost:

Losing cycling didn't just mean missing the rides.
It meant losing my reset button.
No way to clear my head. No way to feel like myself.
Life got smaller.

ACT principle:

When we abandon our values to manage our discomfort, the discomfort doesn't decrease—but the life does.
I thought I was protecting myself by avoiding the thing that hurt.
But I was actually making my world smaller.
And the smaller my world got, the bigger the tinnitus felt.
Because there was nothing else competing for my brain's attention.
Just me and the ringing.

The shift - what changed:
The tinnitus didn't get quieter. It's still loud. I can hear it right now.
What changed was my relationship with needing it to be quiet.
I realized: I was waiting for the tinnitus to not be there before I could enjoy cycling again.

So I made a decision:

What if I went cycling with the tinnitus?
Not waiting for it to go away. Not fighting it. Not needing it to be quiet.
Just going anyway.
So I got on my bike. And I rode.

The tinnitus was still there. Loud and clear.

But here's what shifted:
I stopped making the ride about the tinnitus.
I stopped needing it to NOT be there.
I let it be there—like my heartbeat, like my breath when I'm cycling.
And for the first time in months, I felt like I could enjoy this again.
I could hear the tinnitus and feel the wind.
The tinnitus and the movement.
The tinnitus and the joy of cycling.

What this is really about:

This is what values-based living means.
This is what Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) teaches:
You don't wait for the discomfort to pass before you start living.
You do what matters while the discomfort is present.
And when you do that, your brain gets evidence:

"I can do this. The sound is there, but I'm still me. I'm still living."
That's when habituation happens.

These days:
I cycle all the time. Through forests. Along rivers. In complete nature.
My tinnitus is there. Always.
I can hear it. Loud and clear.

But I don't pay attention to it.
Not because I'm forcing myself to ignore it.
Because I'm paying attention to something else.

What's the thing you're putting on hold?
Not a big question. A specific one.
One thing you used to do that mattered to you.

Cycling?
Going to concerts?
Reading in silence?

Ready to understand where you are in your habituation journey?

Take the free habituation quiz: www.habituate.online
It takes 2 minutes and will help you:

After the quiz, you'll get our free 4-day email course on ACT-based tinnitus habituation.

Let me know in the comments: What's the one thing you put on hold? What would it take to try it again?

I read every comment.
New videos every Friday.

— Frieder