Sensitivity, guilt and the price we pay

Many of us mentally ill have abnormal sensitivity levels. I think on this thread we can tie in guilty feelings also. They hurt, they debilitate and basically they have far too much negative effect on us, our day to day lives.

All of this burden would not matter if we didn't have a super long memory to boot. As we grow older we reflect upon our lives, the past, that damn past, that we cannot change and it annoys us so. My good neighbour I observe a lot, his comments on his past, any regrets and so on. "Oh, I don't tend to regurgitate those thoughts". This good man I use as my gauge to normality, his is the closest to it in terms of managing his past life and it isn't a clean life as none are from the likes of silly decisions, financial mistakes and family regrets.

So, I don't know about you but this vomiting of intrusive thoughts is near unbearable so I take a leaf from my own book and use distraction. But what brings them about in the first place.? For me the most common trigger is music. I'm a poet but I also love music that commonly comes with poetry. If I listen to Elvis I recall my brother (dec 1979) who loved Elvis, if I listen to early 1970's songs I recall my Air Force days and so on. Of course favourite songs of the 1990's reflect my children as toddlers. It's all so sad. Then recently I came to learn the passing of the lead singer of "the cranberries" at a young age of 47 years. My youngest daughter use to walk up and down the hallway singing "in your head, in your heeaaaad.." from one of their songs (zombie). That was a big trigger.

The wrestling match is that I love listening to these triggering songs even though I pay the price. They take me to a higher level of sensitivity that I find hard to explain. So I decided lately to introduce a technique aimed at reducing the trigger effect. No longer than one hour of music, about the right time to reflect, be sensitive, feel the guilt then turn it off.

As I've always promoted to others ...everything in moderation. So now I return to my current world and get on with living in the present...and every now and then I return to the "attic of my life".

THE ATTIC

Every now and then I climb the stairs

where no on can cause me strife

I'm always eager to return

-to the attic of my life

I turn the pages

of my album of times past

and there is no other sound

but the beating of my heart

As water falls on that dormer window

sadness I can tell

and water falls on the inside

from my tears as well

Then down the steps I tread

to give care to my loving wife

but I be eager to return

- to the attic of my life

WK