If Laughter is the Best Medicine, Does That Make Satire an Enema?
Following a tradition I began last week, Fridays will now feature links to outside content. That either makes me a sharing boy, as my mother would say, or incredibly lazy. You decide.Today I'd like to point you to a few links that tickled my funny bone. The first was shared with me by Dr. Bonkers from the Bonkers Institute for Nearly Genuine Research. What an honor it was to receive email from such a prestigious individual. Although some might say he is certifiably insane, I can only vouch that he is certifiably funny. Be sure you have not taken a drink of anything when you peruse over such gems as Schizophrenia Treatment in Seven Easy Steps. Unless it's a drink of Windex, you'll be scrubbing at your monitor. (For this plug I hope to receive a free certificate, helping me beat my brother to be the first Dr. Cootey)
If you believe that medications are a gift from God and that the only hope you have lies within the cryptic scrawlings of your shrink's signature on your latest prescription, you may not find the Institutes work humorous. Also, if you take yourself too seriously. Or if you belong to the Defend Cho Seung-Hui Fan Club (Read the comments. Oh, I just know I'm going to take heat for this one, just like I did when I poked fun of Double Depression. Guys, remember. I cope with humor. It's my shtick.)
The other link I found was from that great cultural pillar of satire, The Onion. Titled simply, FDA Approves Sale Of Prescription Placebo, I thought it was a perfect companion to my article the other day on Placebo Therapy. Although many articles in The Onion are simply silly or in poor taste, I think they got it right with this one.
Lastly, just in case you believe I don't take this subject matter seriously, I want to share with you, hot off the presses, this juicy tidbit: Depression Not Good For Your Health. I used to be depressed and sick all the time. Violently ill for days. I caught everything. Then I learned to manage my Depression with will power, cheek, humor, and attitude. Now I'm not down for the count anymore. Coincidence? You be the judge.
Have a great weekend.
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Comments
You didn't tell me how old your girl is, however. That would shape what kind advice I can give.
Your daughter will never be free of the hypersensitivity. She is of the same fold of cloth the Princess of the Proverbial Pea was cut of. However, we can learn to rein in the hypersensitivity. We can train ourselves to get used to the feelings and even learn to ignore them a bit, almost like normal people. We do need, though, to be met halfway. Find out which socks, for example, bug her the least. Then replace her socks with that kind. Do the same with all her clothes, bedsheets, etc.
Once you've done that, it is her turn to compromise. She must be motivated, but she can teach herself to not mind the clothes. She'll never truly be unaware of the seam on the sock, for example, but she can train herself to not let it drive her crazy. Help her pick one battle at a time, and let her know she has the ability to train her mind. She doesn't have to be a victim of hypersensitivity.
It does have it's upsides, though. I can smell food going bad long before most people. This helps me avoid dicey situations. I can weave through traffic effortlessly. I can almost sense the cars and trucks around me and can move through the spaces. I can find lost items like earrings or even clear plastic covers in the dark because I'm hypersensitive to shapes and shadows and colors. The lost items stand out for me whereas the rest of my family walks all over them cluelessly. I can sense which clothes are made well and which are not. That seam sensitivity helps me pick out the shoddily sewn items that would wear out quicker.
The hypersensitivity also means I experience the world more intensely. My sense of touch can be electric. As a young man that meant I was oversensitive to pain. I could be quite a baby. But I learned to tune out pain as I got older. Probably not like other people do. I still feel pain and pleasure intensely, but I've taught myself how to live with it, especially the pain. Your daughter can do that, too, but it will require training. And motivation. She must want to be able to tune out the pain or discomfort. In the beginning, though, that is hard to do because all the mind can seem to focus on is the sensation. It crowds out other thoughts.
A bit long, but I hope this was helpful. Please respond back.