I Am the Light Bulb
How many psychiatrists does it take to change a light bulb? One, but the light bulb must have a sincere desire to change. I called in sick today, but you can’t see a wound, hear a cough, feel a fever, find an abnormal lab value, palpate a swollen gland, or visualize a spot on an X-ray. I’m tired with what I call that “bad kind of tired.” Other than a profound sense of fatigue, the only other physical feeling is that of my brain having broken loose from its moorings and floating on water; it’s an odd sensation. I’ve lived with clinical depression for the past 15 years or so. Nothing special about that. Depression is just another malady like diabetes or hypertension. You can’t cure them, only control them or ameliorate their symptoms. Occasionally, despite your best efforts and religiously taking medication and watching your diet and following doctor’s orders, your blood pressure or blood sugar spikes, or you get that “bad kind of tired.” It’s strange to have a disease where you can’t point to where it hurts or measure or see anything abnormal. You start to wonder if maybe you’re just weak and really should pull yourself up by the bootstraps. But you also have a sense that it’s more than just a character flaw. Sometimes, you wish you would just go insane and get it over with. Mostly, you hope your family and the people you work with can understand that you do occasionally catch a cold of sorts, and for me, I try to overlook the stigma I’ve attached to my own mental illness, and that’s the most difficult part. I am the light bulb. I have changed and give off a little light, even, if like the light bulb, I got a little screwed in the process and if you shake me, you can still hear stray bits of filament rattling around inside. Why did I write this? I wanted to, and I needed to, and maybe someone needed to hear it and begin to know that what they feel isn’t all that out of the ordinary. Depression isolates; sharing integrates.
Profound stuff, Buddy! Thank you for these words. Working on this PTSD book has been difficult for me and I've been through some of the things you describe.
Like Waylon said: "I've always been crazy but it kept me from going insane..."
You are a light to many but especially to me. Thanks again for always shining at the mouth of that cavern which is filled with such darkness.
My poem, "A White Rosebud" in the book is an effort to describe the journey through that darkness.
I appreciate your words and the glow which originates from your special spirit. It is like a lighthouse for many I'm sure.
January 17, 2008 8:53 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thanks.
A long time ago, I read and then watched Shogun with Richard Chamberlain. The scene that has always stuck is the one where he is with the warlord. I don't remember what led up to the point where Chamberlain was going to commit hari kari (I think seppuku was the actual term), but I remember that the warlord stopped him just before Chamberlain drew the sword across his stomach. It was at night and raining. Chamberlain got this profound look of serenity and remarked about the fragrance of the rain. His senses had become heightened because he was on the brink of senselessness but had not become senseless. I think that's why I like to smell the rain and why when I can smell it, it's something special. It's also about how we are if and when we emerge from that dark tunnel.
"If we weren't all crazy, we would go insane"—Uncle Jimmy
Glenn
January 17, 2008 10:45 AM | Reply | Permalink
I've always been crazy!
January 17, 2008 3:21 PM | Reply | Permalink
I've only read Shogun, but I remember that scene, and remember how well it fit with Japanese culture. If you haven't read the Book of Five Rings, it is worth reading and rereading.
You remind me of a real-world incident in WWII, in which some Filipino officials, captured by the Japanese, were being driven to the execution grounds. One, a politician, was hysterical. The other, a soldier, pointed to blooms of what I remember was the Filipino national flower, and comforted the other man, telling him to look at the flowers and enjoy their beauty.
The Japanese officer in charge decided, at that moment, that the soldier, Japanese or not, was samurai. He ordered the driver to turn, and hid the two until he was able to get a reprieve; the execution order had come from an extremist (probably Masunobu Tsuji, but I forget).
Miyamoto Musashi, author of the Book of Five Rings, Japan's greatest swordsman, but also a philosopher, calligrapher, and sometimes a weird hermit, speaks of utter serenity in several ways. They often are expressed as battle metaphors, such as "fight as if you are already dead" (implying nothing in the world can upset you), and that the best swordsmen fight from the Void, the state of no-time, no-mind.
In my limited experience of judo and tae kwon do, I learned the rather inexpressible concept of the Void. When I was attacked, or was threatened, on several occasions, time stretched. Without consciously thought -- the "open" forms like judo are more natural to me than the "hard" forms like karate -- I lifted my opponent from the ground, and only then determined if there was a real, a slight, or no threat, and continued appropriately. There was even a time or two when a friend made a sudden movement that triggered reflexes, and I took the first movements of a very hard countermove, then recognized the reality, and relaxed. She never knew I had been moving in that way.
I really need to relax enough to start doing the meditation of movement, from various Asian disciplines...gentle, flowing things that can change to explosive action.
--
Howard
*equal opportunity offense to both extremes*
"Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" [George Santayana]
January 17, 2008 5:52 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you, dear Festus, for sharing with the "rest'us."
I'm feeling "blue" for you. Offering a bit of bad poetry too.
Our hearts reach out. Our voices shout: Dont' forget about the Saloon!
Honestly I too have been feeling low due to the infighting in the Dem circle. We all wanted a "new day," a better country. And seeing so many stoop so low drags us all down.
I know your depression is not something new. But when you're feeling "blue," do reach out to one or two. We're here! And any time you want, you can open the Saloon and call on all of Dodge to sit down with you, at one of those round tables Larry mandated "for unity." We can tell jokes or sit beside you if you need to cry. We can even put on sad music to cry by. Sometimes an opportunity to mourn can be very cathartic.
Of course none of us can ever be certain why we feel low or depressed at any point, but ask yourself if this time of year might be difficult for you... maybe some kind of "anniversary effect" related to painful events from the past. Even if finding a reason can't take away the pain, at least having an explanation sometimes eases the sense of helplessness of feeling overwhelmed for "no reason."
Your posts have been missed. And now their absence is explained. I send my heart streams your way. You are loved, dear Festus. You are appreciated. And thanks so much for telling us you're in need.
Namaste. The light is still there... even if you can't see it. We can feel it.
January 17, 2008 9:39 AM | Reply | Permalink
I am becoming disinclined to think there is such a thing as "bad poetry." Bad poetry seems a bit of an oxymoron. There is poetry that speaks to ourself and poetry that sometimes speaks to a wider audience. Where poetry exists, so exists beauty and the esoteric, and sometimes ephemeral, things we hold dear, even if others do not. If that seems correct, I credit my muse. If that seems trite, I take the blame. Oh yes, I definitely believe in muses and firmly believe I have one, even though I honor her existence less and less; my loss, I'm afraid. There was a time we were quite close.
I needed today and these conversations and a chance to use words and tones I do not normally give myself permission to use. I like words, a lot, and enjoy the affectations they sometimes allow, but I always remind myself that the tone is an affectation that, hopefully, brings some pleasure to the reader as it brings fun to the writer (see Blake, Judge Henry G. in Pocketful of Miracles). I know the affectation is a part of me, but only a part, the part that likes having fun writing, my version of acting. It's important that I remember that it is an affectation.
The reason for my blues is akin to postpartum depression. I just finished a big project, and we are entering a period of several months of fallowness, and I wasn't up to facing the next few days surfing the net and reading blogs in the office, but there's more to it than that, too. I needed this.
I've posted some things but taken them down about as quickly as I put them up. There was nothing new or fresh in them, and they were getting to be a bit perfunctory (the kiss of death to creativity). I've rambled long enough. What music shall we hear? Hmm, something old, something new, something borrowed (strength, help, friendship), something blue (skies).
New World Coming
Don't You Wish It Was True
Lean on Me
Blue Skies
Not sure it fits, but I like it. It's The Road to Shambala.
Namaste. I bask in and am warmed by the Light.
Glenn
January 17, 2008 11:56 AM | Reply | Permalink
Just returned from "The Bucket List"
Trust me, Glenn... It's a must-see!
Find a smile today. We'd all send you some of the ones you've given us but we've already used them.
Hang in there... There are more projects where that one came from!
Oops... Ended a sentence with a preposition... Reminds me of that episode of "Designing Women" when the Charlene character is at a fancy Country Club event and she, in an effort to make conversation, says to one of the uppity members: "Hi, where ya'll from?"
The lady looks over her raised snout and replies in a disgusted manner: "I'm from a place where people are too cultured and educated to end a sentence with a preposition."
"Oh," Charlene answers, not missing a beat... "Where ya'll from, BITCH?"
Have a nice day!
January 17, 2008 2:57 PM | Reply | Permalink
Blessings up you, my friend. Solidarity. And may your muse come close, even in your darkest hours.
Had a further bit of comment. But karma took it!!!
Thanks for the bit of explanation you gave. And be patient. Something will come in the darkness. And you'll be able to share it. It's hard to have things end, even when it means something is completed.
By the way, "I am the Light Bulb" sounds like a really neat song title!!! or poem.
Peace, dear Festus.
January 17, 2008 3:10 PM | Reply | Permalink
I almost didn't use the title because it was too close to "I am the walrus," but the light bulb analogy was apt, and the title hinted at what I wanted to say. I tried this morning to write about tears as ocean mist coming on life's flowing and ebbing tides because in reading some things in this thread, tears have welled up in my eyes. I'm good for a couple of lines or a couple of paragraphs, but then I fall into triteness, and my words become stale. Even though I wish I could sustain my writing beyond a few lines, I'm thankful for the couple of lines or paragraphs that sometime emerge. Is it obvious that I admire writers a great deal? :-)
Namaste.
Glenn
January 18, 2008 2:52 PM | Reply | Permalink
You ARE a writer, My Friend!
January 18, 2008 3:24 PM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you, My Friend, but I have far to travel before I arrive at "writer." Some quotes (ya just gotta love Bartleby ;-)
Glenn
January 18, 2008 6:26 PM | Reply | Permalink
Congratulations!
January 17, 2008 8:48 PM | Reply | Permalink
Got Fever, Glennie?
Update on Case On: Holdin' down a job, but still layed out. Can't read anything, can't think inside the box, can't write politica.
Still reeling,
dancing on the ceiling,
bathin' in moon beams.
(signed)
Tout notre raisonnement se réduit à céder au sentiment.
January 17, 2008 8:58 PM | Reply | Permalink
I thought I had the fever once, but it turned out to be a virus with a case of the vapors, but it did hurt so good ;-)
At least I recognized the language as French; I'm improving :-) My French is limited to inquiring where the library's at (I've told that joke and probably will again) and a phrase from this song that probably ought not be used in polite society, even though we all have these thoughts. My high school French teacher, who was Greek, is continuously disavowing that I ever sat in her class (she also taught history and is the teacher who made the largest impact on me during junior high and high school; she didn't just teach the subject; she taught us to actually think; if it hadn't been for her, I'd never have read Crime and Punishment or The Stranger). Où est la bibliothèque?
Enjoy, my friend; you deserve good stuff :-)
Glenn
January 18, 2008 11:17 AM | Reply | Permalink
Ges, your French is better than mine. It was probably ten years after I learned the meaning of "BOO COO" [I might have spelled that wrong {:>)]that I found out it was not Vietnamese.
Hang tough.
January 18, 2008 11:21 AM | Reply | Permalink
You got it exactly right. We usually say BooCoos (plural :-)
There used to be a cleaning product named "Bon Ami;" it was sort of like Comet. It drove my teacher nuts to hear the pronunciation in the commercials (something like Bon Amy, instead of bon-a-me). Mercy buckets or mercy BooCoos (merci beaucoups; thank you very much ;-)
Glenn
January 18, 2008 11:37 AM | Reply | Permalink
Glenn, if you are the light bulb, I'm betting incandescent. It gives off warmer light which is more your style of improving the world. Or a candle that I pray will always be a many-years candle.
January 18, 2008 11:32 AM | Reply | Permalink
Thank you. That's one of the best things anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.
My goal is to become a full spectrum bulb, but I'll probably end up being a black light, which ain't too bad. I have many fond memories of innocence reflected in the glow of a black light. We talked; we thought; we dreamed; we vegged, man could we veg. It was a good time with good friends, all of us coming of age together and discovering life and ourselves. Idyllic? Hardly, but I wouldn't trade those times for anything.
Glenn
January 18, 2008 11:51 AM | Reply | Permalink
This is my way of saying thank you to all of you who have taken the time to read and comment and to those who perhaps read but didn't comment.
Next Wednesday, I celebrate the miracle of having lived 54 years on this earth. I've learned a lot, lived a little, laughed some, cried some, loved some, not nearly enough but a couple of times so intensely that the trip was worth it, made some friends, lost some friends, in other words, just lived a life.
When this post started, I was in not such a good place, but thanks to you all, this evening I have a peaceful easy feeling. I thank you for that. Namaste.
Glenn
January 18, 2008 8:16 PM | Reply | Permalink
Hey... Happy Birthday! Mine was the 16th! Enjoy your peaceful easy feeling and rest well, My Friend.
January 18, 2008 8:18 PM | Reply | Permalink
A belated Happy Birthday :-) So, just a week older, eh? I'm not sure when my grandmother was actually born, but she always celebrated her birthday on January 26 so she could be "3 days younger than me" :-)
Glenn
January 18, 2008 8:38 PM | Reply | Permalink
A week and some years, Buddy.... I just turned 61! I'm so old the only reason I'm still walkin' around is to save funeral expenses...
I'm so old.... My social security number is 3!
Happy Birthday! I hope you have MANY more!
January 18, 2008 9:00 PM | Reply | Permalink