The Recovering Farmer

Friday, March 20, 2015


Over the course of the last number of months, make it approximately nine if you’re keeping track, I have become involved with an organization by the name of Facilitated Solutions. Each time I work with them or meet with them I get further insights into who I am, why I am who I am and how to change if I don’t like who I am. Sounds like a religious cult. But it’s not. It is a group of people involved in the same type of work I do and as a team we try to make a difference.

In the past I have alluded to this problem I have where I will recall an event from the past and berate myself for it. If memory serves me right I believe I had someone suggest Turrettes a few years ago. Perhaps. Hear me out. Something that might have happened last week, perhaps last month, even as long ago as 1983 is enough to elicit a response of some sort. Yeah. I know. 1983? That is so last century. That is not even in the realm of the world we are in. But it happens. I am just fortunate that cars don’t have built in recorders (pvrs or blue rays for our younger readers). Honestly, if all my outbursts had been recorded there truly would not be a resale value on my car.

I actually chuckled when I reflected on the number of times I have let loose with expletives while driving down the highway. I suspect other drivers may well have been befuddled by what they saw in my car. Who cares. And quite frankly, when you have watched one episode of Schitt’s Creek most any life would seem normal.

But this is not about TV shows. This is about stuff, don’t you like that word, stuff. You can include almost anything in that. This is about life experiences. This is about how we as individuals deal with life. It may be normal, it may be off kilter, we may have it figured out only to find out we don’t.

Through my association with others I have come to realize that I have a parrot on my shoulder. (see last week’s version of The Recovering Farmer) It is true. You may laugh but hear me out. What do you picture when you envision a parrot sitting on my shoulder? A bird. Colorful. But other than another example of the wonders of nature, it is a bird. At least I hope that is what you envisioned.

Let me introduce you to my parrot. I am going to give it a name. I am calling it Obahyo. Those that know the german language and know me will understand. (a story for another day) Oba, my nickname for Obahyo, has been sitting on my shoulder for nigh on to. . . . . forever. Never realized it was there. Now that I do a lot of things are making sense. Over the course of the next while I will relate various stories of Oba but for now suffice it to say I have finally met my parrot.

I now understand my outbursts over a long gone memory. I understand why I have a difficult time building my self-esteem. I now understand why I react the way I do to the many of experiences life throws at me. And for that I am thankful. The fact that a parrot has brought me to this point may be a concern but also something I can overcome and embrace.

Keep in touch. I am taking off on a new journey in life. I am going to tame the parrot. I will teach that parrot to say the most amazing things. That parrot will go from being a pain in my . . . oops, sorry, pain on my shoulder to being my best friend. Come along for the ride. And no, Polly does not want a cracker. Make it a good one.