burdened pigeon (raw version)

I Don’t Perform This Song…Ever.

burdened pigeon—is a song that is, quite possibly, the very first complete thing I ever wrote when I got serious about songwriting.

I don’t remember the exact age—early teens, for sure—but what I do remember is sitting at the piano for hours or hiding away in my room, trying to translate whatever angst I was feeling into melody and lyrics. This was the raw beginning of what would become my lifelong relationship with music and words.

Now, fast forward to the present: I still don’t perform burdened pigeon. Like, ever. And until recently, I hadn’t even recorded it in any form. But despite all that, the song is special to me because it reminds me of who I was—a creative, slightly tortured, angsty teen who was just trying to make sense of the world. Some things don't change...except for the teen part.

This week in therapy, I had a big revelation. I’ve spent years disguising my anger as sadness. YEARS. Apparently, that’s a survival mechanism—especially common if you grew up in a household where expressing your feelings could get you in trouble. You learn to soften your emotions into something more "acceptable." And society doesn’t help much either. Women, in particular, are often conditioned to hide their anger for fear of being labeled “crazy,” “cold,” or “difficult” (or, you know, for safety reasons). Meanwhile, men are often praised—or at least, not penalized—for expressing theirs in sports, business, politics, war, bar fights, etc.

So what did my therapist say? She told me to actually say the words: “I am angry.” She reminded me that it’s healthy to feel anger—as long as you’re willing to do the work to process it. Because if you don’t, it often gets rerouted into sadness, which then manifests as shame.

When I listened to this version of burdened pigeon, I heard it differently. Underneath all that melodic melancholy, there was anger. The kind of anger I didn’t know I was allowed to feel. Teenage me was already expressing something I hadn’t even named yet. Today’s me is still working through it—but getting better at calling it what it is. This song shows glimpses of the girl I was and echoes of the woman I’ve become.

With a healthy dose of rage,
– the anomaly