Ostomy Memories on the Confinement of Sanity

Don’t you just want to go crazy sometimes? We lead such restricted lives, partly out of concern for our own safety, partly due to fear of the unknown, partly as a result of the moral ceiling under which we reside so traditionally. Some days (I know you’ve thought about this) you would like to go jump off that proverbial cliff and see what it feels like to paraglide, or hit the water 150 feet down, or maybe even sky dive.

And there are crazier things as well. That’s why they say “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” They’re not referring to restaurant reviews.

Celebrities do this sort of thing all the time. You see reference to it in the tabloids as you’re checking out at the supermarket. But they know that (a) they can get away with it, or (b) they can pay for the consequences, or (c) they really do have a screw loose.

Actually, going “crazy” doesn’t have to be putting your life in jeopardy or throwing morality out the window. It might mean something like harkening back to your youth and heading off on an unplanned road trip, following your sense of adventure, stopping to gawk whenever the scene attracts your eye, doing the Route 66 thing.

Sanity is so confining, isn’t it? It’s so rational, so restrictive, so relatively safe. Perhaps we like to watch movies because they provide us with an opportunity to “get into” the story of the flick and vicariously give up our safety net, if only for a couple of hours on our own couch.

But, for most of us anyway, there’s that little warning light that blinks red-red-red if we get too close to the danger of risk, the same red light that wasn’t working for the redneck whose famous last words were “Watch this!”

Susan Sontag once said that “sanity is a cozy lie.” I think what she meant was that we all could snap if the circumstances came together just right but for our own sloth. If the thirst for adventure can be had by proxy, then maybe Hollywood stars aren’t so overpaid after all. They’re busy protecting us from ourselves.

Hello HenryM. 

'Sanity' is a concept which I have been obliged to contemplate for most of my working life and I have come to the conclusion that so many people who think and profess that they are sane, are possibly deluding themselves. Those who have been pronounced as 'insane', are often simply reacting to their circumstances in ways which are unacceptable to the people in charge and their ‘mental police force’.
In my dictionary, ‘sanity’ is tautologically defined as ‘being sane’. However, ‘Sane’ is defined as being ‘of sound mind, sensible, moderate. This, of course begs the question as to who decides what is sensible and moderate, and in what circumstances.
Most of my former ‘clients’ were deemed as insane/ mentally ill, partly because they were suicidal. Upon talking through their rationale for this perspective, it soon became obvious that (to them) their lives were not worth living and were never likely to be. This raises the interesting question as to who is insane? Those who recognise the reality of the situation and want out, or those who deny the reality and think that these people should continue suffering.
I have already shared my thoughts/rhyme on ‘RIP common-sense ‘, so I will not repeat it again, but simply assert that, if so many people lack common-sense, then it could be argued that these same people are relatively ‘insane’.
There are many ways to approach this subject and many perspectives we may take and still retain a semblance of ‘reality’. But that ‘reality’ is often shaped, guided and coloured by what is happening around us. Sometimes we simply need to vent our ‘insane’ feelings in a ‘scream’ (or something similar).
In this case, it is quite useful to have somewhere ‘safe’ that we can scream without fear of being locked up and labelled as ‘insane’. I always had a handy soundproof room (which doubled up as a practice room for the would-be music bands who needed such a facility to avoid complaints from neighbours), where people could shut themselves in and scream to their hearts content. (Sometimes the bands had their own people who would do this – but they called them ‘singers’). Anyway, I tried to capture this concept in a verse which I will share with you below:
I have many-many more rhymes covering the concept of ‘mental health’, which implies the incorporated subject of ‘sanity’. However, I am a bit more wary to put these on public display, as some of them have been written specifically for people who have already been diagnosed as ‘mentally-ill’ (a euphemism for ‘insane’). Thus, they often depict the ‘others’ as ‘insane’ and those with ‘the diagnosis’ as being much saner than most.

Best wishes
Bill

SCREAMING ROOM.

Give me a place where I can scream.
A space where I can let off steam.
Where other’s will not get perturbed.
At the sounds when I’m disturbed.

I need to rant and rave and shout.
To let my raw emotions out.
If I’m about to throw a strop.
I need somewhere to blow my top.

If I am on an anger spree.
Do not try to silence me.
I know it may seem quite perverse.
But kindness tends to make things worse.

There is no place for me to hide.
When my moods swing side to side.
The root of my indiscipline.
Lies somewhere that’s deep within.

Primordial screams will need a vent.
They’re not something I can prevent.
I cannot tie them down with rope.
Just ‘cos other’s cannot cope.

Some people seem to find.
Space and place to ease their mind.
Some will cheer on their own team.
It’s just another form of scream.

A roller coaster ride will thrill.
And offer up the chance to shrill.
No one deems to try to stop.
Excited screams as people drop.

No one tries to take in hand.
The shrieks of joy from graduand.
There’s those who chant or loudly sing.
And then there is that yodelling.

All these ways to vent your spleen.
So many ways to shout and scream.
What I want for me is thus.
Some place to scream without a fuss.

                                     B. Withers 2007

(In: 'Constructive Conversations Inversed' - 2008)

A historically complicated subject, currently being complicated further by the fact that a sitting U.S. president is (at least) mentally ill, as well as (probably) a sociopath, and perhaps (arguably) psychotic. 

I have come to the realization that most people are a little crazy, including myself. Life would be very boring "playing it safe" every day of your life... After the virus is under control, watch out!!

Hi Maried, Henry, and Bill, Sanity, a subject one could debate forever. I, for one, would rather be someone who feels free enough to not always play it safe and hold my emotions in check, for fear someone might look askance at me and wonder if I am "all there". Perhaps it is healthier to be that type of personality, rather than those we refer to as "tightly wound" but fear they are in danger of "losing it" at any moment. I say I would rather be the former, but it isn't always easy to achieve. Have you ever stood in an elevator crowded with people, all looking at their feet, and had the urge to just break out in song? Or start making funny faces or animal noises? I find it interesting that a behavior that is considered acceptable in one culture is looked upon with disdain or contempt by another. The way some cultures grieve the loss of a loved one is looked upon by our western culture as overly dramatic and somehow distasteful. Why is that? Is it healthier to tamp down our grief with a "stiff upper lip" and just carry on? I don't think so. I think a screaming room would be a very healthy and cathartic outlet and could only help to promote good mental health.

Yes Maried, I agree that we are all a little bit crazy, and it's a good thing. We shouldn't feel like we have to hide it, let's celebrate our craziness. I think mine is what keeps me sane!

Cheers,

Terry

You've hit upon a good title for the topic:  Celebration of Craziness. 

A memory that has stayed with me for probably over thirty years; my husband and I were exiting a theatre after a concert, one of those venues with multiple exits that all feed into one large lobby and one exterior exit door, so it was a huge crowd of people moving very slowly towards the exit. We were a pretty quiet and polite bunch, perhaps thinking about the concert we had just experienced. Then some guy started "mooing", which seemed appropriate as I'm sure we all felt like cattle. It was hilarious and everyone started laughing and many others joined the guy in his mooing. It was one of those rare moments when a little break from accepted social behavior worked beautifully.

T

Hah, now you have reminded me of a time long ago when, during Xmas season, my sister and I were squeezed into a packed dept. store elevator.  I turned to her and said:  Nag, nag, nag...ever since you got pregnant, "Let's get married, let's get married." 

In other words, you have always been a cheeky brat!

T