When The Day Is Done, Let It Go. . .And Let Magic Do Its Thing

This is so…SO…much easier said than done.  But it is – no exaggeration – a key to healthy living.

Me? I’m still working on this nearly 40 years in!

The “could”s and “should”s we impose on ourselves are incredibly damaging, and often the source of a great deal of stress. The other day someone said to me “if only…” and recited a beautiful and perfect scenario (pitted, by the way, against a reality that didn’t turn out exactly that way.)

But my response wasn’t to agree – instead I said, I believe I am where I am meant to be and that things have happened in this way, with this timing, for a very specific reason. Often in the moment I wonder only to find out down the road that everything fell perfectly into place at the ‘right’ time. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

I guess that means I’m leaning on a whole lot of faith, the belief that magic and miracles exist, and that the Universe does deliver. Now that may feel a lot more “unrealistic” to the naysayer, and definitely to those who land themselves with the “realists.”

No problem! You’re entitled to that view but I – having seen the supernal realm divine a few spells that altered the course of my own life (in very happy ways) – am going to keep airing on the positive side. I also ascribe to the idea that I will attract what I put out – as the kind of person I am, I need to watch this on a regular basis, and shield myself as much as I can from the negative “stuff” floating in the ether. 

My skating coach gave me a card when I was just a teenager and it had a picture of someone watching puzzle pieces float down from the sky. . . When he stepped back, he realized he was standing on a vast puzzle beneath him, and everything was fitting perfectly. The card read, “sooner or later, everything falls into place,” and I never forgot it. 

I trust in the timing of the Universe because is hope is always an option. The sun rises without fail, whether we see it or we don’t. I therefore believe even in what I cannot see. . .and when you get down to it, that’s where the magic begins. . . 

How Anger-Inducing Is Misophonia…Really?

The extent to which a person might be pushed as a result of misophonia is not to be taken lightly – we’re talking to the absolute precipice of “The Verge.” As we speak – oh, the irony! – someone is tapping above my apartment, and I feel this murderous rage coming over me like an insatiable wave. 

No, I’m not kidding. 

I’ve popped in my trusty 44 decibel earplugs (thanks to my amazing husband), and turned up the soothing  “Get High” by the beloved Rob Zombie. “I’ve been stepping on the devil’s tail. . .” Uh, NO. But so someone is seriously stepping on mine right now!

AAAaAaARRrrrrgGGg!!!!

Anyway, misophonia was recognized more recently as a *air quote* condition *end air quote* (oh boy, thrilled to have one of those!) But I can remember struggling with sound sensitivity for…well, as long as I can remember. This article suggests that those of us with misophonia have had bad experiences in life and somehow our wires got rerouted straight to the anger-zone as a result. Hmm. True on the experience part, but most people have SOME baggage by adulthood. Human beings, hello? That thing called life, psycho bosses, and bad exes?

There is some tie, per the above, to the emotional circuit boards when “trigger” noises are heard – on the one hand, I like that my anger can be explained by a trigger prodding my emotional headquarters with a hot poker. I *kind of* feel redeemed. But I also feel like there’s suggestion of emotional instability. Of course that depends on whether we are we speaking about when the noises are occurring or the overarching picture (minus the noises.)  Thanks-a-lot, anterior insular cortex.

*thinking face*

According to other sources, such as this one, there are indeed biological cerebral differences in those with misophonia, and those without. You better believe my frontal lobe and anterior insular cortex would be doing some kind of Martial Art should it be subjected to an MRI while simultaneously being exposed to chewing, breathing, tapping, or other noxiously incessant sounds. My brain vs. Floyd Mayweather? Man’s lucky he’s already famous.

Yet other science folk say that it’s okay for me to “blame my brain.” That’s nice. . .have a scapegoat at the ready. . . But I feel a little disloyal tossing my gorgeously grey matter (how gloomy and gothic!) under the bus.

“Yes, my elegant encephalous…under the wheels you go! . . .Aaannnd the wheels of the bus go round and roundddd…!!”

On top of what’s already ailing, the same article claims that there’s extra activity occurring in:

  • My ventromedial prefrontal cortex (more emotional stuff, self-control, risk alerts, fear mechanisms)
  • My amygdala (motivation, emotional behaviors…uh-gain), AND…
  • My hippocampus (short, long-term, and spatial memory) 

Geezuz, for someone who hates parties, what the hell?! (Maybe they’re doing extra workouts? That might make some sense…) But then there’s the whole I-love-heavy-metal thing – I’m not sure I’m able to reconcile the discrepancy save to say that metal sounds uh-mazing. Chewing, scratching, neighbor’s-baby-crying? Doesn’t.

I’m glad at least there’s a community of us Misophonians (yes, I made the word up) with whom I can commiserate. I liked  10 Things Someone With Mispohonia Wants You To Know for exactly such support. The fact that someone made this image (below) also gives me some comfort. . .(it shouldn’t give anyone ELSE any though, since I punch things for fun.)

There isn’t a cure for this sensory sensitivity but I guess in a strange way I’m thankful (maybe not WHEN the chewing or tapping is going on. . .but after!)

I recently was observing a three year-old boy with autism for a graduate class that I’m taking. I noticed his propensity for reaching towards his ears and asked the teacher whether he had headphones or earplugs, as I wondered whether the crying (which he exhibited about 75% of the time or more) might calm a bit. Well…yesterday I heard from a classmate that the teacher tried headphones, and the child is crying FAR less.  What a joy to hear that news! ❤

As much as I want to seek-and-destroy the things that make my ears scream like banshees…the idea that I might have helped one person as a result is amazing.

I’d also like to – very loudly – note that my husband is a trooper through it all. He is always incredibly conscientious because he knows how painful this truly can be at times (and that it really ISN’T my…or my brain’s…desire to be that way!) Support is key (so long as it’s silent.) 😉 *LOL*

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Cat Humor – Starving

I know a certain somebody who insists that he’s gone skeletal, heaven forbid mom is two seconds past 6 pm with dinner.  His dramatics are – I think, but of course I’m biased – worthy of the New York stage. . .

Encore!