Happy Noise

I'm really sensitive to noise, so when I saw that was the topic for Monday's memory, I really had to think about it. About 4:00 this morning, I awoke to the sound of my husband snoring which always puts me in a bad mood, and thought... that's it! That's what I'll write about.

But on second thought, with so much negative happening in my life, I decided I would try to concentrate on the noises that make me happy. Not the sounds though. There's a difference. The sound of a baby laughing? Do a search on youtube, and you'll find lots of happiness there. That sound puts a smile on everyone's face.

I'm thinking "Noise" though. Something that not everyone would relate to, or even think was positive. So, the noise that makes me happy and smile is the noise at a high school or college (especially college) football game. Growing up in the south, this noise is loud and raucous, and sometimes very one sided, but almost always feels joyful. Of course, that noise can be dampened a bit with a loss, but there is always next week or next year, isn't there? It's a feeling that your team will try harder, and do better in the next game, so while there may be disappointment with a loss, there is hope around the corner.

I love that noise!

Hines Ward, this one's for you! Go get 'em tonight on "Dancing with the Stars"! You know, once a dawg, always a dawg!

Sunday's Song

Metaphorically, perhaps, but yep, we're all still here, and the world goes on.

A Life Unraveling

My brother's life right now could be the story of what is wrong with mental health care in the U.S. today. The quickest backstory ever... 20 years ago, he was diagnosed as Bipolar II. Sure, there are lots of details, but the bottom line is that for the past 20 years, up until October of last year, he was living a fairly quiet life with a mental illness. He never held a full time job, but he managed to finish a couple of vocational programs, and start several others, and even managed to get married last August (egads, that is certainly another story, and even kind of funny). He was never a menace to society, or made his loved ones fear for their own safety (and his).

Until he found the DRUGS. Mind you, he was taking medications for his bipolar that allowed him to be the person he was up until he found these DRUGS. Now, we're not entirely sure what he has been taking, and apparently, they are legal, but very dangerous. He orders them online, with some of them coming from China. What little I know is that some are "research" drugs that are hallucinogenic. The other drug that he says he has taken is mephedrone, which is also known as "plant food". It is apparently highly addictive, and very dangerous. With a brain already chemically imbalanced by mental illness, these drugs must only be even more dangerous (conjecture on my part).

When he discovered these DRUGS, "N" began systemically destroying everything. His brain, his marriage, his ability to function, and his relationship with his family. He has become extremely paranoid, and when he isn't in the hospital detoxing, he takes the drugs, and then calls police because he thinks people are trying to get him. He built barricades in his apartment out of the furniture, and this last time out, he had amassed quite the gun collection. Of course, the hospitals can't release him knowing there are guns, so my mother has removed the guns each time. Sometimes she has sold them, but the last time, after he scared her with threats and harassment, she put them back in his truck which was at her house. So Monday, she removed them again, and has promised me that it's the last time she will, and as far as she knows, he's out of the hospital. He doesn't know where the guns are, or where my mother is. Seriously, though, a 71 year old woman should not have to hide from her son to feel safe.

He has been in the hospital more days in the last 6 months than out of the hospital, including one time in intensive care, strapped to the bed. He has had seizures. None of the stays have been longer than 7 days except for the intensive care time, and 3 weeks at a rehab facility, where he signed himself out AMA. He is in desperate need of long term residential treatment, but that's not the way it works these days. He is unwilling to seek out patient treatment of any kind.

This is a tragic story. I fear that it can't have a happy ending.

Blue, So Blue

I'm back from a 9 day trip to Texas, to help my mom deal with my brother "N", and the problems he's been having for the last 6 months. I got back late Sunday, and I've spent yesterday and today trying to "debrief" myself from the drama and trouble that ensued on my vacation. It wasn't pretty, though I did have some highlights on the trip to go along with the lowlights, and do feel like we've done all we can do.

In my debriefing, I saw the Monday Memory meme is "I remember blue...". Perfect. Blue has always been my favorite color, but blue can be so much more. Rhythm and blues, feeling sad, the designated color for the Democrats, feeling calm and quiet, the many colors of blue in the sky. My childhood bedroom was painted blue. My college's colors are blue and red. Both my children and my husband have blue eyes.

The blue I'm remembering today is the midnight blue mustang that was the first car I ever purchased. Still in high school, I had saved up my money, and my parents had offered to pay half. My dad, ever the deal finder, had a friend, who had a friend who was selling his 1966 Mustang. We paid a total of $600 for it. It did need some work, and ultimately, needed so much mechanical work, that somehow we got rid of it, and I bought a brand new shiny red Mustang Turbo. Definitely out with the old.

But oh, I loved that old Mustang. It didn't start out blue. No, it was, to me, a hideous bronze-ish gold color. Besides being a deal finder, my dad also had the equipment necessary to paint a car. I spent the spring and early summer of 1978 sanding and sanding, and sanding some more to rid the car of that gold. It was more quality time with Dad for this daddy's girl. And, ok, quality time with my boyfriend, who seemed impressed that I was willing to work this hard. It was a huge craft project, the kind that men seem to get lost in. And I was not in the least bit embarrassed to drive around with the primer and sanded spots. That was just temporary.

Midnight blue. Close your eyes and you can see the color. Not the black of night, but the stars and moon are out giving the sky a dark blue glow. It's deep and rich, but mostly deep and it goes on forever. That was the color that I wanted my Mustang to be.

Sunday's Song

Still out of town... some updates coming this week.

More soon,

Sunday's Song -- Happy Mother's Day!

The Smell of Camping

This Week's Monday Memory Meme is from the prompt,

"The smell of _______ takes me back to_________."

 

[Monday's memory brought to you on Tuesday, thanks to internet service woes in our area.]

 

I confess that my sense of smell is not all that strong, probably due to a lifelong struggle with allergies, so my "smell memory" is noticeably weak. That said, there is a smell that even now, makes me think of camping and the outdoors. As an avid non-outdoorswoman, I encounter this smell most often now on crisp mornings in my suburban home.

 

But how does camping smell to me? Well, you might think of the campfire, but that element is not there. It is more of a smell/feel sensation. The crisp morning air on a day that will warm up considerably, plus a hint of pine. That's it.

 

And what kind of memories of camping does this non-outdoorswoman have, you might ask? Well, as a kid, we did occasionally camp, and I was a Girl Scout, so I've camped in that kind of setting. My camping experiences were mostly in Texas, and mostly in warm to hot weather as well. These are also mostly happy memories, with the occasional wild story that probably seems par for the course when camping.

 

  That's me and my dad on a camping trip in the early 70s. Groovy belt. Only in hindsight (and therapy) have I totally come to grips with the dysfunction that riddled my family, so I share this as a happy memory. The picture was taken only a couple of years after my dad began drinking, and though I don't believe he was a full blown alcoholic, self-medicating an undiagnosed case of bipolar illness at this time, he most assuredly had had some episodes.

Sunday's Song

What a week! From the happiness of William and Kate and their Royal Wedding to the sadness and devastation of the tornadoes raging across the U.S. southeast. (For the song today, the video is not as important as the beautiful song by Alison Krauss.)

Warmly,