Sunday, March 23, 2008

The Slinky Spring (Up Down in Spring)

Spring is here!

In case any of you wondered, I wasn't missing for seven days because I was put in a mental asylum or anything, though I probably should have been. Although there was a time, in December of 2004, when I went missing from the blogosphere for a week because I was in a psychiatric hospital. This past week, from late Sunday night until Wednesday evening I was involved in a depressive's sleep marathon. Friday was much the same. Saturday I miraculously found enough energy to get out of bed to apply the wax to the "new" used Jeep Cherokee that we bought for my husband to drive to work. Late last night I suffered a little bit in the name of love by sitting and watching basketball and boxing with my husband. Today I actually got up at noon to do my and my husband's federal and state taxes. I can't really remember what I did the rest of the day, but I do know I've been up since noon, and here it is 10:10pm at night, so I've done well today, I think. Speaking of taxes, I anxiously await the arrival of our $1200 in tax rebates from the "Economic Stimulus Plan". Unfortunately we have to spend all of that on repairing the wood fencing in the back yard so Peabody can't escape, as beagles are wont to do. In addition to that, we'll be getting a total of about $600 back after we pay and receive state and federal taxes between us. So, this tax season yields a total of $1800, which again, will sadly be mostly spent on fencing material and labor. :(

There was a night this week that I read a very short book called _The Lazy Man's Guide to Enlightenment_, by Thaddeus Golas. I was going to offer to send the book to anyone who might be interested in it, but tonight I found that you can access the book online for free, so there really is no need to go through the mail process. (If you are interested in reading it, just click on the book title above.) I don't really have a whole lot to say about it, mostly because it seemed to me as if the author was tripping on LSD when he wrote it. It is, according to the web page about the deceased author, "a metaphysical string theory - a theory of everything for the spiritually minded". Mostly it speaks about the vibrational levels that everything is made of, from space to energy to matter, and how we as spiritual beings expand and contract into and out of these levels. Oh, I just now find that the audio book - read by the author himself - is available for free from this website: Knock yourself out. Perhaps you will determine if this book is or is not useful to someone seeking spiritual enlightenment. If you do determine something either way, please enlighten me; I'd be interested in hearing what you've gathered from the book. It might require that I read it a second time to learn anything useful from it, as I could not focus very well on the book for one reason or another.

Speaking of reading, I seem to have a renewed interest in reading, in spite of the outrageously slow reading speed I have because of the Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I may have mentioned it before - and this may be quite pointless to mention again - but up until my early twenties I read quite quicky and with amazing focus and concentration. The OCD causes me to reread sentences over and over again, in a form of internal echolalia. "Echolalia" is repetition - either internally or vocally - of a word or phrase. Where it might take someone a few days to read a book, it can take me a month or longer, depending on how much time I put into reading. And, I don't really put a lot of time into reading because I am rather discouraged. I find that while I enjoy the material I'm reading, I'll delay or procrastinate reading because the OCD bothers me so much. So, a book can sit on my nightstand literally for months.

All complaining aside, I'm currently reading a novella by Henry James entitled, _The Turn of the Screw_, published in 1898. (I am more inspired to read short books!) I went to see the opera in the early 1990s with my mother. I do not recall from the opera what the tale is about, but so far it appears to be a ghost story. I do not want to give much away in case any of my readers are interested in reading along with me. The book is in the other room, but I believe I'm on page 45 or so. If you do wish to read it with me, please do take your time, because, as you know, I read at a snail's pace. You can read it online by clicking on the book's title above. Or, you can listen to the audio book version at LibriVox by clicking here.

Oh, and before I forget, Happy Easter to all of you who celebrate. I had the pleasure of listening to my grandmother - who had just complained of diarrhea - sing a hymn over the telephone, as well as try to prod me into either going to church or watching church on the television. I think I'm developing a higher tolerance for all things grandmother-related. I can't complain, though, no matter how often I disagree with her, because at least she's a part of my life, unlike my other grandparents. I mean, I see her on Christmas and Thanksgiving and birthdays, while my other grandparents probably don't even know when my birthday is.

My main wish this weekend is for people to quit asking me, "How are you enjoying being off work?" What am I supposed to tell them, that I'm just having a ball? Yes, I'm enjoying being depressed in bed 60+ hours at a time and not having much interest in the hobbies I used to enjoy when I was energetic, vibrant and sexy! I'm not sitting around the television eating bon-bons like most people imagine when they think of someone on disability. When will my mother say something kind about my depression, like, "Sophia, I'm really sorry you're having a hard time. I'm here for you." When will she say that instead of, "What are you depressed about? How are you enjoying being off work?" I know she's completely and utterly disappointed in me, just like my father, after I had spent years spoiling them with my awards, high grades, nominations, society memberships, homecoming court involvement, high I.Q., etc., when now I am just a mentally disabled reject. I just want one or both of my parents to tell me that they love me just as much as they used to love me, and that while they're sad that I'm suffering, they're not disappointed in me. I don't expect them to completely understand depression or bipolar disorder - because outsiders will never fully understand. I just want them to accept me as I am without showing any outward signs of disappointment. And it would be an added bonus if they would at least pretend like they were trying to understand.

The unsung hero on this blog is my husband, who completely supports and understands me, even though occasionally he'll get miffed that I'm stuck in a rut in the bed. He's listened to me pour my heart out and he's wiped my tears for me. I know that as long as I have him in this world with me, I'll always have a best friend who is willing to love me unconditionally. As he is 32 years older than me, I know there will come a time when he will pass from this world and leave me, and as grim as this sounds, I hope my time here without him is short lived.

Thanks for listening. It was an emotional roller-coaster ride, but, as usual, I just wanted to get some things off my chest. Thank God for blogs. Sophia is signing off for tonight. (I know there are some comments I haven't responded to, yet. I have read them and I'm going to try to respond to them very soon!)


Vincent said...

Sophia I am too lazy to click that link to the lazy man's guide to enlightenment, even for a quick peek, after your quick review.

In this house no easter eggs were given nor received, but I sang a hymn or 3, with lots of Alleluias, but then I am a grandfather. But I was not prodding anyone to go to church, just waking up my beloved, who did not appreciate it as much as I had hoped. And whilst sawing planks in the front room (only place i can do carpentry in this little cottage---it was snowing outside) I got a taste of religion from a Catholic Bishop with the green trimmings, doing all the ritual things up at the altar. I can never repeat enough these amateur messages across the atlantic: Christianity is different here, very much a minority hobby, but it gets a little coverage at Easter which would not have much significance without it anyhow.

Let me add my Alleluia to your husband, who in any case is no longer unsung on this blog because you just done sung him.

Nice to see you back!

Sophia said...

Hi Vincent,

How many grandchildren do you have? How old are they?

As a child, Easter to me meant large colorful baskets full of candy and chocolate. It also meant going out in the front or back yard and hunting for colorful eggs, which my mother had carefully dyed with those PAAS kits. There is a photograph I have that makes me smile with fondess, of my sister and I hunting around for eggs. Judging by the look of surprise on my face, I must have really had a good time. My parents always did a great job at making sure my sister and I got the most out of every holiday.

Funny you were doing carpentry on Easter, as that was Jesus's occupation. :)

goatman said...

Doesn't seem as if "the cherokee" would be the best for mileage.
What ever happened to the mg?

Sophia said...

Hi Goatman,

Every now and then my husband complains about the funny sound the Cherokee makes. All I can do is say, "I told you so." Sometimes I love saying that, but not when it was at a loss of $2800!

There was a bad omen of sorts involved with the MG. The day that we had an appointment to go look at it, the owner called us to tell us the clutch went out on it and that he needed to do a few repairs. We thought that was a bad sign so we told the guy we were no longer interested.