When I first shared my story about how I habituated to tinnitus, a lot of people reached out saying it gave them hope. I’m really glad it did. But then something I’d secretly been afraid of happened.
Even after years of feeling free from tinnitus, it showed up again. Not louder, really, but I noticed it more. That used to be my worst fear.
But this time, I didn’t panic. I realized this wasn’t a setback, but part of the habituation process. I’d been thinking of habituation as a finish line. But the truth is, it’s more like a cycle that you move through, reinforce, revisit, and deepen over time.
Once I saw it that way, everything made more sense.
Psychologists James Prochaska, John Norcross, and Carlo DiClemente studied how people make lasting changes, especially with things that don’t have quick fixes.
What they found is that real change doesn’t happen all at once. It moves through six stages. When I first read about them, I felt like they described everything I had been through while working to habituate. Looking at the stages below now, it’s easy to see that relapses into noise and anxiety don’t represent failure, and that, if you’ve habituated before, you’re not starting from zero. You’ve done this before, so you’ve largely got this!
1. Precontemplation: “This isn’t even a problem.”
This is where I didn’t recognize the psychological side of my tinnitus anxiety. I was busy chasing physical fixes through ENT visits, supplements, MRIs, Chinese herbs, and tinnitus-focused cures like Lipo-Flavonoids.
Here’s what I was saying to myself at this stage:
“I just need to find the right treatment.”
“If I research hard enough, I’ll figure out what’s causing it.”
“I need to stay on top of the latest studies, just in case.”
I wasn’t thinking psychological at all, and nothing I tried helped. Not even a little.
2. Contemplation: “Maybe this is something I can change.”
This is the turning point. I was still unsure, but I started wondering if fear and focus were playing a bigger role than I wanted to admit.
I didn’t want that to be true, because if it was, then fixing it was on me.
For me, this stage involved a ton of reading (TMS related books and forums) and evidence-gathering. I needed convincing proof that my T wasn’t caused by something a pill or device could fix.
I could have spent too long in this stage, getting stuck in information overload and analysis paralysis, and being afraid that choosing a mindbody approach meant giving up on finding something I could actually fix. Fortunately, I realized at some point that trying to pursue every angle was probably going to keep me miserable longer than just going with the psychological angle.
3. Preparation: “Okay, I’m going to do this soon.”
Here’s where I started making actual plans.
My initial plan was simple: stop Googling symptoms, stay off tinnitus forums, and hire a coach to help me move forward. That plan evolved over time, but it got me moving.
4. Action: “I’m changing how I respond.”
This is when things started to actually change for me in real life instead of in theory. I worked with a coach who’d overcome chronic pain using the TMS approach. I stopped doomscrolling, pulled back from tinnitus forums, and stopped talking about T with anyone but my coach. I started doing things that made me uncomfortable at first, like joining social events where I knew nobody, writing gratitude lists (which I thought were dumb, honestly), and even learning how to use earplugs without feeding the fear.
Most of all, I started applying everything I had learned during my long struggle with chronic pain. That took longer than I expected, in part because this wasn’t pain; it was something altogether different. I began learning how to shift focus to the sound of birds or wind rustling leaves in trees during daily walks, face down my worst spirals by actually stopping to ask, “Where is this anxiety really coming from?”, and remember that my problem was fear that I’d lost control rather than the sound.
This stage wasn’t fast. It felt like running uphill with a backpack full of doubt. But little by little, I realized I wasn’t just reacting anymore; I was changing.
5. Maintenance: “I’m stable, but I stay watchful.”
At this point, the sound had mostly faded into the background. I was living again. I wasn’t thinking about it all the time or getting anxious every time I heard a tone.
But I also knew I could slip, and I did a few times. The first time that happened, during a stressful month, I started noticing it more. The old fear started to creep in. Over a year after I’d stopped working with a coach for T, I scheduled a new appointment with her, then pretty much cried through the whole session. Her messaging was consistent, challenging, and unwavering throughout the hour: “You’ve been through this before. You’re not starting from zero. You’ve got this! You don’t need me for this now.”
I hated hearing it. I wanted comfort, not a challenge. But she was right, and I knew it.
That was exactly what I needed to hear in order to stop buying into the fear, remember what had worked before, and get back to basics fast.
Maintenance isn’t some perfect plateau. It’s more like knowing how to steer when the road gets rough.
6. Termination: “It just doesn’t bother me anymore.”
Some days, I think I’m done. The sound shows up, and I honestly don’t care. I don’t check or react; I just get on with whatever’s in front of me.
But occasionally something changes when I go through a really stressful period, or when I spend hours writing about tinnitus, and suddenly the sound barges back into the spotlight again. That old “what if it’s back for good?” feeling knocks at the door.
The difference now is I don’t open it.
Am I in Termination? Maybe. Or maybe I just visit that stage sometimes. Either way, I don’t feel stuck. When my stress spikes, the sound spikes, but I don’t freak out.
What matters is that tinnitus doesn’t control me anymore, and if fear comes back, I know what to do.
Even now, the tools still matter. I don’t need them every day, but I keep them close. Life still throws things.
That’s why I stopped thinking of habituation as a finish line. It’s not a prize you win. It’s something you build, then rebuild, then reinforce until one day you realize… you didn’t even think about it today.
I’ve learned the hard way that change isn’t linear; it’s a cycle. You revisit old stages. You reapply what you already know. And if you’ve made progress before, you’re not starting from zero.
So whether you’re just starting to wonder if the real issue isn’t the sound itself, but how powerless and invaded it makes you feel – or you’re ten years in and suddenly rattled by a spike…
It’s easy to get lost in free tips and advice when a setback hits, hoping one of them will be the magic fix. I did the same. But what really made the difference wasn’t collecting more strategies; it was having guidance that spoke directly to my patterns, fears, and blind spots. When the support became personal instead of general, setbacks stopped feeling like failures and started becoming part of the process of lasting change.
You haven’t failed. You’re just human.
