Barbara Venkataraman's Blog: A Trip on the Mobius Strip - Posts Tagged "a-smidge-of-crazy"
A Smidge of Crazy
Cada cabeza es un mundo is a Spanish saying which translates to: each head is a different world. It also explains why every person has their own unique brand of crazy (mine is trademarked, so hands off). The human brain is a fascinating and complicated thing with many different ways to go on the fritz. For example, if nails on a chalkboard make you cringe or a fork scraping an empty plate makes you squeal, then you can start to grasp what it means to suffer from misophonia, literally, the hatred of sound. People with misophonia don't hate all sounds, just the hateful ones. And those sounds can send them into a rage…
Like you, I'd never heard of misophonia (also known as selective sound sensitivity syndrome) until I learned about it the hard way. Who knew that one little piece of chewing gum could cause so much trouble? Foolishly, I thought that getting gum on your shoe and in your hair were the worst possible scenarios, but I couldn't have been more wrong. One day when I was clothes shopping with a friend while happily chewing (not snapping, popping, or cracking) a piece of gum, she almost took my head off.
"Do you HAVE to chew your gum so loudly?"
"Um…I guess not," I said, taking a few steps back. "Sorry. Hey, are you okay? You seem to be overreacting just a tad." (I couldn't say what I was really thinking: Are you a pod person from Invasion of the Body Snatchers?)
She apologized, but continued to glare at me as if her mouth were independent of her brain, which hated my guts at that moment. It was freaky, to say the least. She had not yet diagnosed herself through the ever-handy internet and therefore couldn't explain her bizarre behavior. It wasn't until months later when she called me, gleeful, to say that she wasn't a head case after all, she had a real syndrome and, even more exciting, other people had it too! Now she could understand why she loathed the sound of people chewing, couldn't stand to watch her mother-in-law fidget with her hands, and wanted to kill people to stop them from making noise. She had found an online community of kindred spirits, tortured souls who couldn't stand the sounds of clicking pens, ticking clocks, clacking keyboards, whispering, whistling, singing (especially bad singing), slurping, yawning, sniffling, snorting, snoring, sneezing, throat-clearing, paper rustling, leaf blowing, corduroy rubbing, change rattling, and dogs licking. Just to name a few.
"That IS exciting," I said, being the supportive friend that I am. "What's the cure?"
"Oh, there isn't one," she said. "Except habituation, training yourself not to mind. If you mix in sounds you enjoy--like waterfalls, or classical music, you can get used to the bad sounds eventually."
"How's it going?" I asked.
"Terrible," she confessed. "I just leave the room when people chew too loudly, before my head starts spinning around like in The Exorcist."
"Smart move," I said.
"Thanks! You know, it's been a while since we got together and I'd love to see you. Want to do lunch?"
I laughed. "Not on your life."
Like you, I'd never heard of misophonia (also known as selective sound sensitivity syndrome) until I learned about it the hard way. Who knew that one little piece of chewing gum could cause so much trouble? Foolishly, I thought that getting gum on your shoe and in your hair were the worst possible scenarios, but I couldn't have been more wrong. One day when I was clothes shopping with a friend while happily chewing (not snapping, popping, or cracking) a piece of gum, she almost took my head off.
"Do you HAVE to chew your gum so loudly?"
"Um…I guess not," I said, taking a few steps back. "Sorry. Hey, are you okay? You seem to be overreacting just a tad." (I couldn't say what I was really thinking: Are you a pod person from Invasion of the Body Snatchers?)
She apologized, but continued to glare at me as if her mouth were independent of her brain, which hated my guts at that moment. It was freaky, to say the least. She had not yet diagnosed herself through the ever-handy internet and therefore couldn't explain her bizarre behavior. It wasn't until months later when she called me, gleeful, to say that she wasn't a head case after all, she had a real syndrome and, even more exciting, other people had it too! Now she could understand why she loathed the sound of people chewing, couldn't stand to watch her mother-in-law fidget with her hands, and wanted to kill people to stop them from making noise. She had found an online community of kindred spirits, tortured souls who couldn't stand the sounds of clicking pens, ticking clocks, clacking keyboards, whispering, whistling, singing (especially bad singing), slurping, yawning, sniffling, snorting, snoring, sneezing, throat-clearing, paper rustling, leaf blowing, corduroy rubbing, change rattling, and dogs licking. Just to name a few.
"That IS exciting," I said, being the supportive friend that I am. "What's the cure?"
"Oh, there isn't one," she said. "Except habituation, training yourself not to mind. If you mix in sounds you enjoy--like waterfalls, or classical music, you can get used to the bad sounds eventually."
"How's it going?" I asked.
"Terrible," she confessed. "I just leave the room when people chew too loudly, before my head starts spinning around like in The Exorcist."
"Smart move," I said.
"Thanks! You know, it's been a while since we got together and I'd love to see you. Want to do lunch?"
I laughed. "Not on your life."
Published on January 02, 2017 13:17
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Tags:
a-smidge-of-crazy, barbara-venkataraman, misophonia
More Misophonia --Why Certain Sounds Drive You Nuts!
My recent blog-post, "A Smidge of Crazy", about the strange disorder known as Misophonia, struck a nerve with a lot of people. Readers shared the everyday sounds that made them crazy and so I shared some of mine, which are truly bizarre and might change your opinion of me. The sound of my dog licking her paw or the floor (or anything else) drives me absolutely bonkers, as does the sound of a fork scraping a plate. But the worst one is a song by Ten CC called, "I'm Not in Love". I can't explain it, but when the singer whispers Big Boys Don't Cry, it is pure torture and makes me want to jump out of a moving car.
Now you know that you're not so weird after all. You're welcome!
And here's the explanation you've been looking for:
Misophonia: Scientists crack why eating sounds can make people angry
http://www.bbc.com/news/health-38842561
Now you know that you're not so weird after all. You're welcome!
And here's the explanation you've been looking for:
Misophonia: Scientists crack why eating sounds can make people angry
http://www.bbc.com/news/health-38842561
Published on February 06, 2017 06:59
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Tags:
a-smidge-of-crazy, barbara-venkataraman, misophonia
Free audio-book download codes! :-)
I have a new audiobook of essays and wanted to offer some free download codes in exchange for an honest review.
Here’s the link on Amazon to check it out, please let me know if you're interested: https://www.amazon.com/Smidge-Crazy-Q...
Thanks!
Here’s the link on Amazon to check it out, please let me know if you're interested: https://www.amazon.com/Smidge-Crazy-Q...
Thanks!
Published on July 18, 2019 16:31
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Tags:
a-smidge-of-crazy, barbara-venkataraman, free-audiobook-download-code
Family Ties :-)
My husband grew up in a small town in Tasmania where almost everyone was related by blood or marriage. As a transplant from another country, he wasn't related to anyone, but was soon accepted into this big, messy, close-knit family of a town that he would later name our son after. (To clarify, we named our son Scott, not Scottsdale. With a surname of twelve letters, the poor kid didn't need a first name with ten more.)
Although I, too, come from a big extended family, I couldn't imagine one that encompassed an entire town. It sounded wonderful. In my mind they were always cheerful and happy to be together, watching each other's children, bringing each other casseroles, and never having to plan family reunions because they lived in one.
Apparently, it wasn't like that. They were just regular people with regular problems who had their share of illness, addiction, sad stories, and squabbles. I was so disappointed to hear it. Surely, there was something special about this inter-related town? It turns out there was. When anyone had a problem, word quickly spread through the family grapevine. If you fell, someone would pick you up, if you were hungry, they would feed you, and if you were feeling down, they would sit with you. Ah, that's more like it! If only we could all live in a town like that.
In my first year as a lawyer, we hired a law clerk named Mindy who was engaged to be married. When Mindy's future mother-in-law Sondra asked who she worked with Mindy mentioned my name. Sondra said she had attended my wedding. After Mindy picked her jaw up off the floor she learned that Sondra was my mother's second cousin, that their grandfathers had been brothers. The next day, Mindy brought her fiancé to work so she could introduce me to my third cousin, a new lawyer himself who looked like he could be my brother--if I had a brother. It was surreal. Now, whenever I have an immigration question I call him up and say "Hey Cuz, got a minute?" He and Mindy broke up but he will always be my cousin.
My mother loved to host huge Thanksgiving dinners at our home in Florida and invite all the relatives. One year, my great-uncle Al, a widower in his 70's who had just remarried, brought his new wife Diana to dinner. As he was introducing her, he said, "Diana, I want you to meet someone from Connecticut." She replied, "I only know one person from Connecticut--Harry Sugarman." To which my other great-uncle replied, "I'm Harry Sugarman!" It turned out that Diana and Harry had dated fifty years ago. In other words, my grandmother's brother married a woman who had dated my grandfather's brother and they reunited by chance in a different state half a century later. The odds of that happening seemed astronomical, but were they really? If we reached out to strangers and asked enough questions, wouldn't we ultimately find a connection?
After my father died, his cousin provided some family history that we were unaware of. He told us that when my great-grandfather immigrated to the United States in 1885, his brother went to Africa and they never saw each other again. So, I may have family in Africa too.
In the end, we are all like the baby bird in that Dr. Seuss book who goes around asking everyone: "Are you my mother?' But instead we should be asking: "Are you my brother?" The answer to that question is yes.
Although I, too, come from a big extended family, I couldn't imagine one that encompassed an entire town. It sounded wonderful. In my mind they were always cheerful and happy to be together, watching each other's children, bringing each other casseroles, and never having to plan family reunions because they lived in one.
Apparently, it wasn't like that. They were just regular people with regular problems who had their share of illness, addiction, sad stories, and squabbles. I was so disappointed to hear it. Surely, there was something special about this inter-related town? It turns out there was. When anyone had a problem, word quickly spread through the family grapevine. If you fell, someone would pick you up, if you were hungry, they would feed you, and if you were feeling down, they would sit with you. Ah, that's more like it! If only we could all live in a town like that.
In my first year as a lawyer, we hired a law clerk named Mindy who was engaged to be married. When Mindy's future mother-in-law Sondra asked who she worked with Mindy mentioned my name. Sondra said she had attended my wedding. After Mindy picked her jaw up off the floor she learned that Sondra was my mother's second cousin, that their grandfathers had been brothers. The next day, Mindy brought her fiancé to work so she could introduce me to my third cousin, a new lawyer himself who looked like he could be my brother--if I had a brother. It was surreal. Now, whenever I have an immigration question I call him up and say "Hey Cuz, got a minute?" He and Mindy broke up but he will always be my cousin.
My mother loved to host huge Thanksgiving dinners at our home in Florida and invite all the relatives. One year, my great-uncle Al, a widower in his 70's who had just remarried, brought his new wife Diana to dinner. As he was introducing her, he said, "Diana, I want you to meet someone from Connecticut." She replied, "I only know one person from Connecticut--Harry Sugarman." To which my other great-uncle replied, "I'm Harry Sugarman!" It turned out that Diana and Harry had dated fifty years ago. In other words, my grandmother's brother married a woman who had dated my grandfather's brother and they reunited by chance in a different state half a century later. The odds of that happening seemed astronomical, but were they really? If we reached out to strangers and asked enough questions, wouldn't we ultimately find a connection?
After my father died, his cousin provided some family history that we were unaware of. He told us that when my great-grandfather immigrated to the United States in 1885, his brother went to Africa and they never saw each other again. So, I may have family in Africa too.
In the end, we are all like the baby bird in that Dr. Seuss book who goes around asking everyone: "Are you my mother?' But instead we should be asking: "Are you my brother?" The answer to that question is yes.
Published on June 10, 2020 18:52
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Tags:
a-smidge-of-crazy, barbara-venkataraman, quirky-essays
A Trip on the Mobius Strip
Whenever I see something funny or weird that you can relate to, I will share it. Anything that will make you smile, or shake your head, or wiggle your ears. I'd like to see that, by the way...
Whenever I see something funny or weird that you can relate to, I will share it. Anything that will make you smile, or shake your head, or wiggle your ears. I'd like to see that, by the way...
...more
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