Blindsided XI

He didn't tee off until 1pm so we left after he was done at the gym in the morning. We drove mostly in silence, things had clearly changed and I was left toiling with my thoughts wondering what was real and what wasn't...my gut would not allow me to believe everything. With Marcus, the sun rises because of me on the good days and on the bad days...I am the enemy he loathes and cannot state it enough...so what's real? That's the problem, when you say everything...it means nothing. I don't know the relationship anymore, my last visit was brutal and stressful...most of our time together is. We pulled up to the club with plenty of time for him to practice, I decided to clear my head out and take a short walk around the course. 

By the time we hit the turn to the back nine the picture had come in clearly and I was numb. Holding his iPad taking videos and pictures, conversations scrolled to the left and three women popped up...but he stated as early as a couple days prior that he was not interested in any other women...even though he knew it would be okay and appropriate for him to do so. It occurred to me that the familiar hotel room was his hospital room...the one time he went that triggered my commitment to head back and hopefully reset the relationship. I remembered commenting on how nice the bed and room was...he took me right there! 

What the hell was going on? I was spinning, or it felt like it...I no longer knew who I was with...

Blindsided X

I went with him to work, well, I dropped him off then went to get his spare putter from his house. I finally brought in the hamper we purchased during my last visit, I don't know that he was at home much at all between hospital visits and staying over by the course when he drank too much. His grandad was making coffee when I opened the door, he's always pleasant to me; Marcus will tell you that his grandad doesn't live with him but I assure you...he lives with him. I bit my tongue and refrained from asking him about our email exchanges regarding Marcus being in the hospital, part of me felt he would have no idea what I was talking about...I swallowed my anxiety again, grabbed his putter, a pair of socks and headed back to get him from work. 

Driving back I started to count and collect little red flags that were dropped along the way that I simply chose to ignore. But why? Everything felt off, and it seemed like if one thing wasn't falling apart then another was and together we could never seem to land on the same page although I was seeing the picture a lot more clearly now. We were heading to his golf tournament in Georgia the next day and I was starting to wonder why I had come at all. The eggshells were starting to crumble under my feet as inconsistencies piled higher and higher...there's literally no reason to not be honest with me...so what's going on? 

I let him get away with too much too soon. My boundaries weren't as strong as they should have been and I allowed vulnerability to excuse things I never would have tolerated. We're clearly not our best together...so why does it make me sick to leave?

Blindsided IX

Well, it wasn't completely over I guess. After a few emails from what was supposed to be his grandad as well as a few facetime sessions in what was supposed to be his hospital room...I bit the bullet and went back to Nashville. Lucky me, he got out the day before I arrived...imagine going from deaths door to being able to play eighteen holes the next day...I had my questions but after a day of flying I just got in his car and headed for the course. His friends are lovely and he easily fits in and is in his comfort zone, it's always a pleasure to watch. I cracked a Modelo and settled in for the afternoon, completely uneasy and trying to distract my anxiety. 

We rounded the turn to head into the back nine when he notified me that we'd stay out for the night to avoid his grandfather...I didn't care either way. I hated my gut, the uneasiness, the way it never lets me just exist in the moment without causing waves...inconsistencies create havoc in my thoughts. I tried by best for the remainder of the day to push everything out of my head, I was already there and decided to wait on having any kind of deep conversation...our relationship had been so tumultuous lately I didn't want to ruin the little calm we finally found.

We were both so exhausted by the time we reached the hotel we barely had a chance to talk as he had to be up early for work and then race to make his tee time straight afterwards. Laying in bed listening to him sleep it occurred to me that the room was familiar, the wall colour, pictures, bed frame...and I could tell you I had never stayed in that hotel before...not in any state...

Blindsided VIII

Three visits...and it all fades away. Well, it didn't die quietly but it's done...I couldn't stop the train and by the time he stopped talking...the damage was done and so was I. I miss his smile, his attention and friendship but not the rollercoaster I was forced onto daily. I was supposed to fly south this weekend but decided against it...I think I'll go west...adventures await...

Blindsided VII

In tournament play you have to tee off from a certain place, it's usually between the mens and woman's, which means a lot of times he has to pull back. His driving game is no joke, and every time, not once or twice, every fucking time, it's a show...for me at least. I can close my eyes, picturing him standing back out of the tee box...spotting the flag, gauging the fairway and breathing deep. His club in his right hand, rested at his side, one last breath, swings it out twice to loosen his arms and steps into the box. My heart is pounding out of my chest, excited butterflies fill my body and I feel so honoured to be part of his journey. I can never track the ball, I just keep my eyes on the fairway or the greens, but the four of them will stand up there and talk about the curvature and how it bounced and rolled a certain way...I just know he can birdie the hole with that shot...curve? I have no idea. 

One of my favourite things about Marcus is how he is completely unselfish when it comes to golf. He's kind, considerate and encouraging to those around him. His swagger isn't off putting, in fact I think it's us that believe he has swagger...I bet he doesn't even claim it...but for the rest of us, yeah, he has swagger and rightfully so. He's out there to beat you on the course, but not beat you down, he'll encourage you the whole way while he is continuously draining birdies...don't ever expect him to play down...not even for ME! But that doesn't mean he doesn't want you to do well, to get better and to have a great time. 

Golf is unforgiving, it's easily the hardest sport I've ever attempted and watching it is enough at times to make my blood boil. How exactly does a ball roll into and then out of the cup? Your ball hit a pebble...you're in no mans land. Your ball is on a steel grate...take a drop shot! I watched him eat stroke after stroke and slide to tenth...whoa! My butterflies turn my excitement into nausea...in Phoenix he finished so strong it was almost surreal watching him birdie hole after hole to climb back into contention. Now, he's on his home turf and with a close friend riding shotgun...the butterflies calm, I'm ready to witness. 

One stroke...the difference between him and first...he's already thinking about the next tournament while he collects a small fortune in skins winnings...golf is the emotional rollercoaster I never knew I needed...

Blindsided VI

He starts on the back nine of his season opener, paired with a good friend. I'm not entirely sure why they insist on playing through the ridiculously high winds coupled with large patches of snow, but we're ready to tee off next. Everyone knows him, and they adore him. He's humble with his spectacular talent and like every other time we golf...they want to be near him. I can hear the whispers, see their expressions and know they too want to see him go all out. It's a competition, but not really, the men around him put their energy behind him and push with him. Of course they want to win, but they know the odds and his recovery game is unmatched, so until he walks off the course, he's always either in the hunt or sitting pretty on his throne. 

There's a little more sparkle when he golfs with his friends and on his home turf. He's never arrogant on the course, there's no need, his confidence is solid as he's steps into the tee box. He's going in cold with a new driver, well, he got it a year ago, but last minute, he swapped out two clubs...that's fucking gutsy, perfectly on brand for him. I held my breath because it felt better than questioning him. One thing I know for sure is that as a sports mom and a sports lover...I never question the athlete before they take the field. So much of it is a mental game and since I don't play...I don't say a word, not even out of curiosity. You can't get into his head, it's not available. His mental game is like his recovery game...unmatched. 

Sitting in the golf cart felt like being in a wind tunnel, standing outside of it wasn't any better. It didn't matter, he was hitting every fairway like the wind wasn't even touching him. Driving the ball over three hundred yards consistently is pretty incredible, but being accurate over ninety percent of the time is insane. There was a young man on his foursome who could drive the ball about forty yards further at times...but he's not hitting fairway...he was in no mans land several times. 

The first nine holes were brutal, between the wind, cold and snow it was absolutely miserable...for me. He was sitting nicely at the top of the leader board as we hit the turn to the front nine...

Blindsided V

Picking up and letting go, letting go and picking up is a cycle I have come to perfect over the years.  Learning to let go, teaching myself what to let go of and coming to terms with everything freely moving in and out of my life took time, my god it took so much time. Letting go feels like forgiveness, initially the thought is crippling, you fight it and try to find any reason not to because it means letting go of something within yourself, something that was a part of you, or at least felt as though it was. I used be afraid of letting go of anything from the people I loved to my favourite shirt...holding on to it as if nothing could possibly ever be better than this right now and knowing it's not entirely true if I just stop to think about it for a minute. It all comes down to loss, and I have never been a good loser, however, not all things we let go of is lost or a loss...sometimes what we let go of helps us soar from no longer having the weight of it but we can't even fathom it at the time and letting go feels painful. Eventually, it becomes second nature and you realize everything lives and dies for you on this hill. This was a hill I was committed to die on if necessary, believing if I could comfort myself through the loss then I was home free... and I was fucking right! It's not a perfect system, it's not as if you won't feel the sadness of loss, it just means that you can weather the storm and know that when the sun rises you honoured your feelings and let them all go...

I've struggled the last several months, my inner circle cracked hard and I had to watch my mother and son walk away from my table. I will never let go of my son in my heart...but I still had to let him go and watch him walk away. I have faith that time and distance will paint a new picture for him and he will return to my table, but I don't know that for sure. My heart aches but this is his lesson and I have to let him go through it...so I let go and hope we can pick it up again...and I hope it's sooner rather than later...but even that, I've let go of...