Category: Letting Go

A Surprise for Me!

I’ve been writing posts about events that make me laugh, although this post will fall more into the ironic category than the humor one.  But the irony is what makes it funny.

Al and I were married on September 12,1971 in Golden Gate Park in San Francisco. The person that conducted the ceremony was Reverend Delbert Gault. He was the youth minister at my mother’s church in West Palm Beach, Florida. I had attended that church during my last two years of high school.

We went to one of the services at GLIDE Memorial Methodist Church before our ceremony. Glide is a special type of church, in no way a “normal” one. It came to be known for bringing together LGBTQ+ (this was the early 70s so that was not the name of the group then), hippies, the homeless and other counter-culture communities.

Glide was in the hotel district which was in the Tenderloin, a poor part of San Francisco. I used to enjoy watching the bewildered looks on the faces of people from the hotels when they realised this was not going to be a normal Methodist service. It was a celebration of life that included singing and dancing.

The lines to get into the church regularly went around several city blocks. Every spare space in the church was filled.  People even sat in the windowsills. What I remember about the service that we attended on the day we were married is that Roberta Flack sang, and Quincy Jones played the piano for her.

Although it was historically a United Methodist Church, at some point they must have disassociated because Methodist was removed from the name of the church.

After our wedding ceremony in the park, we had a potluck dinner.  At that time, Jane Fonda, who happened to be in the park, holding a child on her shoulders, came up to us and wished us well. It had been a magical and exciting day.

We moved to Seattle after the wedding (I had been living in Oakland since I graduated from college… but that is a story for another day). We were together for 7 years and during that time we had 2 beautiful children that as adults became known as Satvamrita (the name he was given when he was initiated as a brahmachari-monk) and Chaitanya (the name she was given when she asked Amma to name her)

  • Chaitanya making pancakes in the Amritapuri Cafe
  • Satvamrita being shaved for his brahmacharya initiation.
  • Chaitanya and Satvamrita
  • Satvamrita cooking in the Amritapuri Cafe

Three years after our separation, I attended a workshop. As I listened to the guest speaker, I realized I had been passive about getting a divorce.  So, I prepared and turned in my divorce papers soon after I returned from the workshop. 

By then we had been married for 10 years. I discovered that because we’d been married that long, I would be eligible to receive the difference between his amount of social security benefits and mine after he died. His administrative job with the City of Seattle certainly paid more than what I made as a nurse psychotherapist.

For years, I had expected that I would get the difference between our amounts of Social Security added to mine. He worked with the Social Security office so that everything would be done ahead of time. That way, all I would have to do is call the Social Security Administration office and I would start receiving the new monthly allotment. Regardless of his preparatory work, I discovered after he passed in January 2022, that I would have to apply for the extra income. I wondered what additional “red tape” I would have to do.

My daughter, Chaitanya volunteered to look for the original copies of the marriage and divorce certificates and found the marriage certificate eventually in the Alameda County records.  But much to her and my surprise, we found that King County Superior Court had no records to support that our divorce had ever occurred.  I realized that I must have turned in the papers, but I didn’t know I was supposed to follow through with anything further. Chaitanya eventually said to me, “Are you sure you two were ever divorced?”

So, I had been married for 50 years instead of 10, and now I was a widow instead of a divorcee. My adult kids and I thought it was funny and Al would have too. Luckily the Social Security staff also laughed or else they might have put up some roadblocks to increasing my monthly check.

Al, our friend Jagati and me having lunch outside during the COVID pandemic. (That’s why we are sitting six feet apart and maskless.)

Before he died, Al and I would spend time together.  I would go over his place to watch Seattle Seahawk games.  By the time he passed, we were talking to each other every day.  I know that he was sad that he was in no shape to help me. He had had multiple sclerosis for almost 40 years by then and heart problems for 20 years. He had no idea how much his daily calls helped me. Even I didn’t know until they were no more. At some point during that time, I had a dream that we had remarried but I told only a few people about that. I was glad that I was no longer angry, but I was not willing to go that far in reconnecting! In the end, we all got a good laugh at the circumstances.

Laughing is Good for Me- Part 9

I’ve been thinking about writing this for some time. It will be about things that make me laugh. But it will be different than the past Laughing is Good for Me posts because some people will think I’m giving too much information. So this is your official warning that some might think what I’m saying is gross, like a fifth grade boy with potty humor.

I have a friend with a serious illness that started a blog when he lost the use of his legs for a while. One of my favorite posts of his was titled “I pooped!” I certainly related to that post because I take so much medicine that It seems like I’m constipated all the time.

I liked how he could take a serious topic and make it funny. He inspired me to write again on my own blog. I have thoroughly enjoyed doing that since I started writing again. So feel free to stop reading something if it’s too gross for you. Or you can skip to Section 2 which is my normal style.

***

Section 1

I wrote in the past that I related to one of the monkey videos, I had posted earlier this year. In case you don’t remember the video or haven’t watched it before, you can find it here. it’s the third video in the post. I recommend you watch it either for the first or second time before you go on with the reading.

One reason I relate to it, is that I seriously doubt I would be able to pass urine or have a BM if I was being watched. Since I am considered to be a high fall risk I am now staying in an adult family home. One of the things that is asked of me is that I not walk alone anywhere, anytime, so that includes the restroom where I use the toilet. Luckily the staff don’t sit and watch or stand and watch. Most times they leave my room and I ring them with my call bell when I am ready to get up from the toilet.

At the time I watched the video that led to the story, I was very constipated. A few times when I was successful in getting something out, it seemed like I was having really old BMs. They reminded me of the pictures of the stalactites which were in the Texas Natural Bridge Caverns on Vedavati’s trip. (Texas Beauty)The BMs were so hard and seemed stuck, so I broke them off, like the monkey did in the video. I did not throw them on the ground, however, I dropped them in the toilet. I laughed when I saw the monkey do something so similar.

***

For a while I had an agreement with a staff member that we would make each other laugh at least once a day. I have a tendency now-a-days to leak urine when I laugh. I often wear a pad in my underwear because of that tendency.

One day I could tell she was trying to make me laugh when I was still in my room, and away from the toilet. I said you don’t want to do that or I will make a mess. We started walking towards the bathroom she said something I thought was funny and I not only leaked, I emptied my whole bladder.

One night a staff member was taking me to the toilet in the middle of the night. I have had a real problem with expelling gas (AKA farting) and I find it humiliating. This night as I reached the toilet, I let loose more gas than I ever had before. I don’t know why, but this time I found it hilarious, especially because it was in front of the staff member. I laughed for at least 15 minutes, and I giggled or laughed whenever I thought about it for days.

***

My daughter, Chaitanya, wanted me to wear Depends (an adult Incontinence product) at night, not because I was incontinent, but rather because she knew I had more difficulty walking at night. She thought it would make it easier for me if I didn’t have to go to the bathroom at night. I was not interested. I also didn’t trust that they would actually work.

So, she decided to prove to me that it was safe for me to use them. She did that by putting on a pair of Depends and then released a full bladder of her urine into them to prove that they were well able to hold everything. I laughed when I realized what she was doing. I think that was well beyond what is expected of a caring daughter. (Chaitanya gave me permission to share this story.)

***

Section 2

The family that runs the adult family home that I am living in presently consists of a husband and wife, two small children, three and five years of age, and the wife’s mother. The three year old turned three since I’ve been here, so she was only two when I moved in.

I think the kids are not supposed to be in the residents rooms without one of their parents present but I’m not sure. One day, the two year old came into my room and sat in my chair silently while I was in the bathroom. When I returned to the main room, my back was to her. I began to realize there was somebody else in the room besides the grandmother who helped me in the bathroom. I turned around and I saw the two year-old sitting motionless and quiet. Apparently she had put her finger to her mouth in the shhhh position to indicate to her grandmother that she should not give her away. I didn’t know a two-year-old could be that quiet. Once I realized what was going on, I thought it was pretty funny.

***

The Swami in charge of Amma’s North American programs and Centers visited me after I moved to the adult family home. I told him that I felt rebellious, that I didn’t want to take anybody with me when I walked with my walker even though I realized that was for my own good since I am a high fall risk. But I didn’t want to do it. He said to me that I needed to work on surrender. And he added that I was not to walk without someone with me.

I laughed when I heard that and when I have thought of it since then. The swami is very wise. In the past I have thought about it as letting go, but I have never thought about it as surrender.

***

The type of group psychotherapy I did for 30 years included self care contracts and group contracts that were developed by generations of therapists. One of the group therapy contracts was “I will not regress without a contract.” That one went on to say “I will not get into a child space without arranging for protection first.” That means that I won’t act like a child without having a parent there to take care of me or somebody acting in that capacity.

The self-care contracts are meant to be lifelong contracts, as well as some of the group contracts. (I have for a long time felt contemptuous towards therapists who talk about their three-year-old as if it was a real child-rather than metaphor used for healing purposes.)

Much to my dismay, I found myself breaking the regression contract a lot during my first months here. Most therapists add that it’s different when you are sick; that it is natural to “get little” in that situation. But I did not give myself that break. And I still break that contract today, more than I would like.

My tears are constantly close and it doesn’t take much to trigger them, much like a two year old. And I don’t deal with frustration well. I’m frequently like a kid when I’m frustrated.This is not a laughing matter but I think it’s ironic that I would be breaking that particular contract so frequently. All this goes to show that you can find humor in the strangest places. And laughing is good for me.

I want to mention one other thing in this post. Several people have said I need to focus on accepting the situation I am in. I think I have accepted the fact that I have MSA, multiple systems atrophy, which is a disease that has no cure and that they won’t know if I really have it until they do an autopsy when I pass. I think people say that to me because I cry frequently, spontaneously. The reality is sometimes I feel like I’m in hell and would be relieved if I pass, and then a day later I don’t know why I thought that way, thinking then that it is not so bad.

I am aware that when I first met Amma, it seemed like I cried all the time. Sometimes I felt crazy because I didn’t always feel sad when I cried. During that earlier period of crying, a devotee friend once said to me, “It seems like all you do is cry.” That was much like when I was a kid, when my father said, “If you’re going to cry, I’ll give you something to cry about.” I learned to be stoic. This time the tears stopped and I went back to being my normal stoic self. No more did the tears flow freely.

I think that the past tears were healing. I think the same about these current tears. If I need to accept anything, I need to accept that there is purpose behind the tears. Like laughter is good for me…. the tears are also good for me. I can believe that without knowing why they are good for me.

***

Before I left the senior living facility I had developed the habit of saying yeah to everything. Every sentence ended with “Yeah”. The word “No” often followed it. My daughter began to tell everybody that my “YESes” don’t mean anything nor do my “NOs”; that they had to wait to find out what my answer really was.

One day, a friend and I were laughing during dinner about the fact that I couldn’t stop saying “yeah” at the end of every sentence.

She said something about it when I was drinking prune juice. I thought what she said was funny and I ended up spraying her and everything else on the table with prune juice. What happened next was not funny but it was a good lesson.

I started choking on the prune juice. Choking and choking. Before long I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I started wheezing and I was afraid .

My friend hit my back until a big glob of mucus came up and the problem was over. We had learned that when we are eating, we should pay attention to what we’re doing.

***

Soon after I moved into the adult family center I began to chant to myself. Shortly thereafter, I started chanting out loud. I heard the chants constantly, night and day, wherever I was. I couldn’t tell if the chants were nonsense syllables or something like Native American chanting, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t stop hearing it or chanting it. This was bizarre to me, as people don’t go around chanting what sounds like nonsense syllables. I thought that people must be wondering what was wrong with me. In fact, I was wondering what was wrong with me.

I moved into the adult family home about June 10. There was a TV playing Hallmark movies in the dining room. After July 4 they started playing Christmas movies. l thought that must be the new tradition. Christmas programming used to start after Thanksgiving.

I started to suspect that my chants were getting at least some of their tunes from the TV programs. That scenario became even more likely the night that a staff member asked me if I knew I was humming jingle bells. She was shocked but I was only surprised. I laughed but she was right. I had unconsciously added jingle bells to my chanting routine. For awhile I even added the actual words but now Jingle Bells has left my rotation.

***

A lot of these stories might seem serious, but in the end we can remember that there is great healing in learning to laugh at ourselves.



Freeing the Mind

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, (Using Affirmations as Mantras), mantras are usually short Sanskrit sentences that translate often into some form of “I bow to God.” People łiving in religious communities that use mantras are encouraged to say their mantra all day every day. Saying a mantra quiets people’s minds and in so doing they are better able to focus on God.

Months ago, while I was living in a senior residential community, I faced a situation where that knowledge was useful.

I was beginning to have more trouble walking. One day, as I walked, my foot became caught in a paper bag. I was increasingly frustrated. No matter what I did, I couldn’t free my foot from the bag. Since then I’ve been told that that kind of experience and the accompanying frustration is typical in Parkinson’s patients.

About this same time, I started saying “I can’t do it” a lot. Eventually, I realized that I was immersed in negative thinking.

Whenever I heard myself say “I can’t do it. I changed it to “I can do it.” or “I will do it.” At times, I even used the line from ”The Little Engine that Could. “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can”. And once I achieved the challenging task, I said “I did do it.”

I decided if i was going to free my mind from negativity it could be done with a positive mantra. Tochange what I was saying to myself,I would change my mantra. While I knew that it’s best to say the mantra all day every day, I also knew that in therapy group we only expected clients to say it 1000 times a day. For this purpose I would say it anytime I was facing a challenging problem where I was tempted to say “I can’t do it” and if I still had problems I would bump the mantra repetition up to 1000 times a day.

I soon noticed that I was more successful in meeting my goals when I said the positive mantras, i.e. “I think I can” pretending I was the little engine chugging along the tracks or using ”I can do ït” or “I will do it” or “I did do it” as a positive mantra.

(Note: ”I will do it“ is the mantra that is most likely to be successful while “I can do it” and “ I think I can” tend to be less effective. Whatever the mantra is that brought you to success should be changed to “I did do it”once you’re successful. It is important that you reward yourself in this way.)

Jerry: A New Era?

Three days in a row, Jerry has shown up at the western cafe. Is this the beginning of a new era? Is Jerry growing up? The last monkey post was the first of those days. And this one contains the next two days of videos. As Satvamrita’s mother, I am a bit concerned about the last one. What is for sure is we have the opportunity to work out issues related to living learning and letting go.

Lumosity: Brain Training Games or Coping with a New Reality

Lumosity consists of brain training games. I have been playing them on and off for about 10 years. I have thoroughly enjoyed playing them and also have enjoyed competing with myself and others my age.

Each game focuses on an area such as speed, problem-solving, attention, divided attention, memory, flexibility, etc. I am fascinated to see that even though my scores are lower than they used to be, I have the same strengths that I had when I played them before. My highest scores are problem solving, attention, and memory. My weakest area was speed in the past and it continues to be lower than other areas.

I remember having a lot of 97- 99 percentile when I was younger but now when I’m compared to my peers my highest areas are in the mid 60 percentiles with the exception of problem solving which is 88.4%

I have been able to get home health services since I have been staying at this senior living facility. One of the home health therapists focuses in part on cognitive areas. She thought any deficits I had could be attributed to stress, but suggested I do some brain training activities. She was delighted when I suggested Lumosity.

One day in the last few weeks, I got my foot caught in a paper bag when I went over it with my walker. I became very stressed when I couldn’t fix the situation.

I was able to eventually figure it out and free myself from the bag. But I am having more problems with my left foot freezing, especially when I’m stressed.

I am also challenged by getting dressed. Sometimes I can’t figure it out and I need help. I don’t necessarily like that I need help, but I appreciate that help is available.

I need to acknowledge and accept the grief about what I’ve lost without losing myself in it. And there will be lots of opportunities to use my problem solving, attention and memory skills. Thank you Lumosity for showing me I continue to have those skills.

My Judgments May Be Wrong

I have had a recent reminder that my judgments may be wrong. It can be very difficult for me to open envelopes now. I often end up tearing the envelope and hoping I don’t tear what’s inside of it.

One day I got an envelope that was secured a lot more than normal. There seemed to be no way I was going to be able to get inside without getting help.

I became very judgmental. Don’t you know that I can’t get this open? How would they know? I didn’t even know the person that sent it. I went further into my tantrum. What do you think this is, Fort Knox?

When I tore the envelope open, I felt like the contents were very worthy of Fort Knox level protection. It was a gorgeous 3-D get well card from somebody I didn’t even know.

This incident will serve as a reminder to me that my judgments are not always right. Or warranted. This may have been the most beautiful card I have ever seen.

Letting Go of Al and My Kids

Our marriage ceremony Golden Gate Park
in San Francisco 1971

I have had more than two full and difficult months. When I last wrote about Al, I mentioned that he had had a stroke. His stroke was on the weekend before Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving Day, our son Satvamrita arrived from India to take care of him.

In that post, I said I didn’t know whether either one of us would live for a few days or ten or more years because the next moment is not in our hands.

On December 29, I had an appointment to get my eyes checked about two blocks from Al’s apartment. The friend that drove me and I were invited to come to his apartment for dinner after the appointment. We decided to go. I’m sure glad we made that decision. (I generally don’t go anywhere because of Covid.) That dinner was the last time I saw Al.

He had had trouble sleeping for months before the stroke. He would go to bed in the late afternoon, wake up about eight and then be up most of the night. He had followed the same sleeping pattern after his stroke. On January 6, he started sleeping all the time. Satvamrita wasn’t even able to wake him up for appointments. Then, in the early morning of January 8, he took his last breath. So he ended up passing in his sleep.

He was ready to go and he was finally out of pain. (He had been having severe leg pain for months if not years.) I wasn’t ready though. I had never considered it a possibility that he would be gone so soon. After all, Chaitanya was coming to relieve her brother in mid-March. In my mind, they would continue trading off caring for him for years.

I was also not at all prepared for how deeply Al’s death would affect me. When Satvamrita called me that morning to let me know his father had passed, he was feeling such deep grief. I burst into tears and felt so sad, sad for Al, sad for my kids, and sad for myself. I cried spontaneously many times over the next weeks and I imagine that will continue to happen from time to time. Al’s presence in my life clearly had meant a lot to me.

My kids planned their dad’s memorial to be held three weeks after his death. There was both an onsite function and a zoom option as some of Al’s contemporaries would have been hesitant to venture out in the current Covid situation. Since I am now living in a senior community, I also decided for the zoom option.

There was a video that was created for that event. My kids collected pictures from throughout his life and also some videos. They then sent them to a friend at Amma’s Amritapuri ashram in India and she created the memorial video. I often cried as I watched it. It is so beautiful.

(The video has photos of when Al and I and our children were young, and information about his extensive career working with the homeless.)

Not only was I dealing with Al’s loss but I had to deal with the fact my children would soon return to India. Luckily they had spent significant amounts of time with me throughout their stay here. But letting go is still difficult.

They are presently in Norfolk, Virginia spreading some of their dad’s ashes and from there will go to Baltimore to do the same. On February 10, they will go back to India.

I know that I will talk to and correspond with them frequently when they return to India. They are always good about staying in touch. But it has been several long and difficult months. I know I have to be gentle with myself and I am very appreciative of all the friends that are helping me.

I will miss Satvamrita and Chaitanya and I will miss Al.

Al, Sreejit (his name before he was initiated as Satvamrita) and Chaitanya in 2018.

***

Before he died, Al wrote a memoir about his childhood. Although the memoir details many of the abuses he suffered, it is also an inspiring story of how he was able to keep picking himself up, over and over again to make the best possible circumstances out of the situations he found himself in. You can find both kindle and paperback versions on Amazon, if you’re interested.

Laughing is Good for Me- Part 8/Making a Difference

I had six stories for the laughing series. I decided six was too many for one post so I’m putting the last three stories into this post even though I expect this one to be significantly shorter than Part 7.

***

My daughter put a microwave oven in my apartment in the senior living facility when she fixed it up. I haven’t had a microwave oven since I found paint chips in my food in my old one. When I looked in that microwave oven, I saw chipped paint on the top.

I hadn’t used a microwave oven since then, except when I stayed at a friend’s house in the summer of 2020. Using one then reminded me how convenient it was to use one. So I wasn’t totally opposed to having it, especially since I knew wouldn’t be cooking on the stove top.

I had friends that objected though and suggested that I get a toaster oven which is what I have at home. They were even willing to go out and find me one. I was surprised when the one they bought was smaller than the microwave oven and since the kitchen has very little counterspace that was especially good.

I had been using the microwave oven to heat eye compresses so they put it on top of the refrigerator and plugged it into the same outlet that the refrigerator was plugged into.

I had second thoughts about that, and checked the Internet to see if it was okay. When I did that, I discovered that nothing should be plugged into the same outlet as the refrigerator. I was not surprised and had somebody unplug it for me. Later, another friend said my microwave oven was now a fly-proof storage unit.

I’m not used to being in Seattle for Christmas. For the last 30 years, I have been in India for almost all Christmas seasons. So when I fully realized I wouldn’t be going there, I wanted to get some Christmas presents, I wondered where to put them in the small studio apartment.

When I looked around, I noticed the microwave oven on top of the refrigerator. I remembered the friend commenting about it being fly-proof. It also would not be where anyone would look for anything and it certainly would not be used for cooking, since the plug and cord were hanging loose on the side of the refrigerator. So that microwave oven truly became a fly-proof storage unit!

***

Satvamrita became a brohmachari (monk) in March 2020. He received a new name at that time. (Before that he was named Sreejit, a name given to him by Amma when he was 15.)

His new name was much harder to remember. Al, his father, still called him Sreejit when talking about him (since Satvamrita was in india).

After Al had a stroke, Satvamrita came to Seattle to take care of him. Al wanted to say the new name correctly but he couldn’t, and so in his confusion used other names. The most common name that he was now calling my son was “Karuna,” my name! So Satvamrita heard “Karuna” many times a day.

On December 29, I came to Seattle for a doctors appointment. There was still snow on the ground.. Afterwards, since it was two blocks away, the friend who drove me and I went to Al’s apartment for dinner. I hadn’t seen him since before he had the stroke.

We didn’t stay long for a variety of reasons. Among them was the fact that between dealing with the snow, seeing Al, and the doctors visit, I was totally exhausted.

Satvamrita walked us out to the car. As we left the apartment, I needed help getting my walker over the edge of the doorway. I looked at my son and called out to him, “Al!” He looked at me shocked, “You too???” he said.

I thought that mistake was pretty funny and am still laughing about it.

***

I was awake from 1 to 3 AM two nights ago writing this last piece of this post in my head. I cried during part of it. I wish I had actually written it down because what I remember isn’t as complete as what I composed during the night. But it’s close.

One of the first things that happened after his stroke was that AL wanted somebody to notify all of his Facebook friends. That request was fulfilled.

One of the people that he notified was a friend that he used to work with and they had a large box of ice cream delivered to his apartment. There were 6 different kinds of ice cream in it.

Al goes to sleep about 5:30 in the evening now and he often wakes up throughout the night. One night, at 3 am Al called out to Satvamrita in the next room, “Does anybody want ice cream?” “No,” Satvamrita answered. A few moments later again Al called out, “Are you sure.” “Yes,” Satvamrita affirmed. Al had already had ice cream twice that day. Hearing the silence that followed, Satvamrita got up and brought the smiling Al some ice cream.

For some reason, I thought that him asking for it at 3 am was really funny. More importantly, the incident shows how people can make a difference in someone’s life by something that is as simple as sending/bringing them some ice cream.

Because of his stroke, I have realized what a difference Al has made in my life. In the late 1960s he protected me by sitting all night with me at a pier on the Seattle waterfront after I had missed my college dorm curfew. In the 1970’s, we attended concerts by Tina Turner, James Brown, War and others. Later we raised two wonderful children together, even after we were divorced. The hard and painful times that occurred back then are no longer important to me.

Before his stroke we talked on the phone every day for months. I know he was frustrated that he couldn’t do more to help me through my illness but those phone calls were a big help. I’m feeling a similar helplessness that I can’t make it better for him now, but am so grateful that our kids can help him.

This contemplation is giving me an opportunity to reflect on how many other people have made a difference in my life: Amma, my children, my friends, my spiritual community, my colleagues, my clients, my neighbors, and the staff and residents here in Woodinville. And I know I have made a difference in many of their lives as well.

I believe that the next moment is not in our hands. I don’t know whether Al and I will live for a few more days or 10 or more years. What I do know is that our friends and family are pitching in and helping us. They are making a difference. And I appreciate them more than I can say.

***

This post didn’t turn out to be the short one I visualized when I started it but it turned out to be an important one.

The Angry Bird T-Shirt

I bought a new T-shirt three or four years ago. I thought the design on it was lightning. I was dismayed when I discovered that it was actually a depiction of an angry bird.

I did not want to wear a picture of an angry bird on my T-shirt but it is the most comfortable T-shirt I’ve got and it is also easy to get in and out of. Both of those qualities are very important to me right now.

As I continued to think about it, I remembered when the crows used to dive-bomb me in the Greenbelt behind my house. There was an old helmet that had been left in the Greenbelt sometime in the past. If it hadn’t been so dirty, I would have been tempted to put it on as I felt I was being attacked. I was told that it was nesting season and that I was coming too close to their nests. The crows were only protecting their young.

This year, the same thing happened at the place that I am staying now. Crows dive-bombed me two different times in May or June. It happened in different parts of the property, so I don’t know if it was the same crow or two different ones. Those incidents happened three or four weeks apart. Both times, I could feel the wings of the crow touch my head. And once again, it was nesting season so the crows were simply protecting their babies.

When I remembered those experiences, I no longer cared about wearing a T-shirt that had a picture of an angry bird on it. Then, I realized that my role as a corrective parenting group psychotherapist had been to teach adult men and women how to take care of their inner children.

As such, I was an advocate for the young. I was also a protective mom when it came to my own children. Even though they are now adults, I don’t want anyone messing with them and will definitely come to their defense, at least in my mind.

So now I am able to wear my angry bird T-shirt proudly. It is one of the symbols of my life. What are the other symbols? I’ll have to think about that.

The Angry Bird
Going for a walk with friends