Power of the bird.

The bird, bird, bird, the bird is the WORD.

For me, there is something so powerful in flipping the bird. It just makes me feel crazy satisfied.

*rewind*
When I was six months pregnant with Buggy, her father moved out of our home. It was devastating, though I KNEW it was coming (woman's intuition), it broke me. Yet I was carrying a life, a life that I wanted so badly. I muddled through, I got myself into therapy, to keep my sanity through it all, to try to take care of ME so that the pregnancy and baby could be healthy. Healthy me = Healthy baby.

Through that therapy, there was still the hope hubby1 and I would reconcile (stupid looking back on it now). I hoped that he would see the life we created and WANT back into it. That was NOT the case, obviously.

One day after a really good therapy session, I went to meet him at a park. I still can remember the day clearly. There were things I wanted to say, they were fresh in my mind from the session, I wanted him to HEAR me and underneath it all, I wanted him to embrace me. I wanted him to apologize and come home, make it work.

That was NOT the case, obviously.

It was a beautiful day, cool, breezy, sunny. I said what I wanted to say, he listened but had no spoken response. His face said it all, to this day that face angers me. It is a smirk with a spark of condescending glazed eyes. As soon as he flashed this "face" at me, I lost it. That look, pushes me over a shaky edge, STILL it sends me to looney town.

I got into my car, just seething with anger, sadness and pure shock. As I drove away, I rolled down my window with a slam of the button, I thrusted my arm out of the window and flipped him the bird. My arm tightened as I flew that bird high; if I could make lightening flash from the end of my finger it would have happen at that moment. That bird soared at least three blocks from the park.

As I pulled my arm in and rolled up the window, I giggled. That actually felt good. My arm was a little sore the next day, so worth it.

*current day*

Hubby2 and I are going through a divorce. He is currently still in the home. It is not fun, it is not fun at all. I have been putting up with it, I have been putting on the "fake" for a very long time. It was bound to crack and crack it sure did.

I blew UP the other night, it was not pretty. If it were recorded on tape, I am sure I resembled the exorcist girl; I am SURE my head spun around.

In the middle of the explosion, I got that same smirky face from Hubby 2 (seriously, do they teach you guys this while the girls are having the menstrual talk?)

As soon as I saw the look, The Bird peaked it's head out of the sleepy nest and was ready for action. (and that whole sentence was a "that's what HE said" gutter)

Let it fly, I did. This time though, being a more frequent flyer, I bumped it up to a first class double flyer. Two Birds, double action, pumped up and down in a machine gun style. (There might have been a little jig with my feet too; I can't say)


How is it that just a simple hand gesture can feel so powerful, so therapeutic?