Musings of an Aging Nobody

I whistle a lot.

And sometimes I sing or hum instead of whistling, but mostly I whistle.

My wife tells me she can always locate me in a store or antique shop by hearing me whistle.

At my work, the joke is similar.  If you want to know where Curt is just listen,  you will hear him.

But the truth is you are only hearing the whistle.

What is actually going on in my head is completely different.

There is a large production occurring in my head.

Like Phil Spector’s “Wall of Sound.”

There might be a horn section jumping in, an awesome guitar riff busting through, or the drums banging it out.

It’s hard to whistle the drum accompaniment.

And the vocals are amazing if I must say so myself.

All in my head.

Only I know what is really going on.

Only I can say what is really going on in my head.

You can only hear the whistle.

 

I read somewhere that Monday, October 10 is World Mental Health Day.  A day “to raise awareness of mental health issues around the world and to mobilize efforts in support of mental health,” according to the World Health Association.

I guess mental health has a stigma that ironically further feeds the issue of mental health.

And if you think about it, you don’t have to think too hard to find the insidious ways it creeps into all of our lives to some degree.  But you may not always characterize it as a mental health problem.

But it is.

And it is all around us

It is called life.

And I am not suggesting to minimize the seriousness of those who would be clinically diagnosed with mental health issues, I just think we have a more prevalent problem than we might care to admit.

 

It might be a teenager you know struggling with family issues, or bullying, or self-esteem.

Or someone you know wrestling with an addiction or a substance abuse problem.

Maybe it’s a relationship going bad or a marriage that is breaking apart.

It could be someone you know experiencing physical abuse in a relationship, and too scared to get out.

Maybe it’s a person suffering from the grief of losing a child or a grandchild.

Or a sibling.

Or a parent.

It could be someone suffering from the anxiety associated with PTSD caused by witnessing a horrible experience that no one else could ever really understand.

It might be watching someone go through the effects of aging or experiencing that yourself, or an illness maybe.

Maybe it’s a person experiencing job stress or instability.

Or financial burdens.

Maybe you just lived through a hurricane.

Or it might even be a person who whistles, even on days when he doesn’t really feel like whistling.

 

The World Health Organization says that “about one in eight people in the world live with a mental disorder.”

I would venture to say that maybe seven of those eight people are dealing with something that is causing stress, anxiety, depression, or sadness.

We don’t know for sure.

We don’t know what is really going on inside their heads.

Because we can only hear the whistle.

 

But it’s not anyone’s fault really.

Like my “wall of sound,” you couldn’t have known about that until just now.

You wouldn’t have learned about the grand production going on in my head if I hadn’t just written it down.

And shared it.

 

Sharing is sometimes hard.

So maybe fostering an environment that is more conducive to sharing is a good idea.

Listening deeper, if that is possible.

Encouraging writing instead of talking, because sometimes it is easier to express the hard things in written words.

Embracing your faith.

I couldn’t imagine going through some of my life’s events without my faith.

Knowing we are loved.

And loved unconditionally.

 

And sometimes, it even helps to whistle.