Sometimes the reminder you need shows up when you least expect it.
The feature image above is the iconic picture of my mother shooting a black crow, “The Bird.”
It’s funny because it’s not like my mother to shoot anyone a bird. And she did it during a time when she was fighting for her own life.
It was her way of saying, FU death, I’m not ready yet.
It gives me strength.
Anyhoo, on to my story. We will get back to this bird in a minute.
Today on my lunch break I write this:
I’m mad.
And I can’t seem to shake it.
I’m 55 and I’m working at a place I don’t want to be, doing a job I don’t want to do.
This is not my God given talent.
It makes me mad at myself.
How did I let myself get in this situation?
But then again...
Maybe it isn't my fault.
You know…
I have been sick and not feeling good for THIRTEEN—MOTHER—F&&&&&&—YEARS.
I’m pissed.
And I can’t seem to shake it off.
I try so hard.
I’m constantly writing.
I’m also reading and listening to positive things every day.
Trying to find the good in my life.
Yet, I’ve struggled so much lately.
Because let’s be honest—this world rarely feels good or fair.
In fact, one could say it’s pretty damn shitty.
Yet, sometimes I also feel blessed and grateful.
I’m alive, and lately I do feel better.
Even though my test results don’t necessarily say the same thing.
It’s frustrating and good at the same time.
What can I do?
How can I bury these feelings?
I’m not sure.
Maybe I need to get drunk?
Later That Day
Last year I decided to give up alcohol.
I didn’t have a problem, per se. It had actually gotten to the point where I was barely even drinking at all—after a lifetime of self-medicating and having fun.
I went a whole year.
Cool.
What an accomplishment.
Today, I need a drink.
So, I did.
After work I’m going to let off some steam.
Golf.
Laughter.
And four beers later I feel better.
Billy and I went to The Rock, my childhood golf course. It’s such a beautiful place with memories around every turn.
Mom is definitely on my mind as we come down the 18th hole to see her old house still standing.
I duff my first shot right behind a tree.
Then, I have to kick out.
As I approach my third shot I’m greeted by a black crow.
“The Bird.”
Okay Mom.
I get it.
Billy and I have a giggle.
“This shot’s for Mom.”
I hit a beautiful shot over the water.
Then a nice approach into the green, and two putts for a bogey save.
It was a much needed evening.
