28-Day Pit Stop (January '12)

On the 28th day of each month (in honor of PMS and that whole menstrual cycle thing), we make a Pit Stop to rally support for each other during a particularly trying PSM time.

This month's little adventure is entitled "Feelings, WHOA, Feelings". Because whether we like it or not, we feel things as the spawn go. We probably always felt things, but who had the time to pay attention?

If you read the previous post here, I talked about how fascinated I am by this new-to-me concept of replacing my rational thought processes with a little emotion and intuition. So, this post continues where that one left off...

According to the Bible...okay, the Wiki...intuition is "the ability to acquire knowledge without inference or the use of reason". I'm already confused. The dictionary says intuition is "the act or faculty of knowing or sensing without the use of rational processes". Yep, still confused. You can't know without rational thought. That's just faith. Oh lord, this is turning religious.

I'm a woman. Apparently, I'm supposed to have intuition already. Hence the term women's intuition. It must be in the uterus somewhere near the GPS that's always finding shit for everybody in the house. Maybe I'm just out of practice. Supposedly, you have to exercise your intuition. Like a muscle? That screams consistency and discipline and, well, I don't score well on those tests. One seemingly silly exercise I found says to place four regular playing cards face down on a table and guess which ones are red and which ones are black. Keep track, because supposedly, the more you try, the more you'll guess correctly. We'll report back.

In the meantime, let me open to a random page in the 101 Ways to Jump-Start Your Intuition by John Holland pocket book. "Connecting with your feelings - Intuition and feelings are best friends. So many people often approach me for intuitive information and ask, "What do you think about this? or "What do you think about that?" Sometimes I say, "Well, I'm not sure what I think about it, but...this is what I'm feeling." The next time you have a decision to make, check in with your feelings first, before you proceed. Ask yourself, "How do I feel about this?" and "Why do I feel this way?" Trust yourself. Connect with your feelings and your intuition."

This seems doable. It requires a little pause for inward thought, but those are good questions to start with. Sometimes, though, I'm not even completely sure I know how I feel about things, so let's keep going.

Laura Day has some meditation audio experiences on her website. The Extras area sent me to her YouTube Channel where I found a video called A Powerful Intuitive Framework. These taught me about life mapping and documenting where I am and why I am where I am. They taught me that intuition asks for directions. The part of our brain that's able to take advantage of the unified field wants to know what we want it to find. She says to write down a positive goal for ourselves, but instead of "I want to lose weight", make the goal "I have a slim, lovely healthy body that I am happy to be in" and really feel that. I think of this as manifesting intentions. "I intend to..." or "I have..." or "I am..." sounds so deliberate and meaningful. Sounds reasonable. I can do this. :)

She has a newsletter and blog, too. While the blog posts pretty much just point to her books before providing much insight, there's a certain comfort to them. I don't know why. Just feel it. Ha. Get it? Felt something. There. I think that's quite enough for today.

January's Pit Stop Suggestions are a few links to online resources about awakening your intuition:

Creating Positive Change by Developing Intuition

5 Easy Steps with Dr. Judith Orloff

A Life Coach's Take on Developing Intuition

Psychology Today

Quiz: Are You Intuitive?

All Things Intuitive

Laura Day's Practical Intuition  and How To Rule the World From Your Couch

If you have any insight or suggestions or cool resources, please leave a comment or send an email to let me know! I'm determined to think more with my heart. I know, it's irrational.

My Intuition Tells Me....

I'm on a mission to get in touch with my inner goddess. Whatever the hell that means. But, and here's the fun part, I'm taking you people down with me. So into the mire we go. The mire of self-discovery, of feeling in a natural flow with the Universe, and of getting in touch with this and that crap on the inside.

Who's with me?

I know, I know. This is hardly a single mom's thang. We're facts and balances and schedules and bottom lines. We deal in logistics and necessities and reason. But a post-single mom? We don't have as much to hold on to in our daily routines, so we start to look around. And, whether we like it or not, inside. Thinking about things. No, really, feeling things, as in how do we feel about X? Is that a heart's pit-a-pat about Y?

In recent months, I have found myself desperately attracted to that fru-fru, self-help aisle in the bookstore. You know, the one with all the books in bright colors, with companions and extended families full of daily meditations and worksheets and journals. Books with happy, perfectly done people ready to jump off their covers to help the world with all our problems. For $15.95 US and $22.95 CA, before the 20% Frequent Readers discount. (If you're ever feeling fine about yourself, don't visit this aisle, because you'll leave with at least two books about something you didn't even know was wrong with you.)

On a recent trip, I opened to a page in the little pocket book, 101 Ways to Jump Start Your Intuition by John Holland, that said,"Intuition is received via your feelings, energy centers, and emotions".

Say what?

I don't know about you, but this gal has never been overly familiar with feelings and emotions. And, as a post-single mom, I still couldn't point you to my energy center. But the concept of intuition fascinates me. I ran into another little book called Vitamins for the Soul by Sonia Choquette that, I think, summed up why. Intuition is "Instant Relief – Listening to your heart and following your vibes will instill in you a profound sense of confidence and security. It’s a sense of relief, knowing that you don’t have to do it on your own. You only have to do your part, and the Universe will meet you halfway with support, protection, and guidance".

Boy howdy, can I use some of that. I can't discover myself all by myself. I need Universal company. And I need green and purple books and quotes and worksheets and companion meditations. I do. I can't get enough. I'm working my way through Laura Day's Practical Intuition now. How perfect is that title? I'm so practical, it's scary. Yet, I long to be intuitive. Here's an exercise. You can't get much more fun than that. Well, you can, but baby steps. Her latest book is called, "How to Rule the World from Your Couch". 'Nuff said.

I can't tell you how many times in 2011 I looked at a clock and saw 11:11 or 1:11 or 7:17 (birthday). In fact, the moment I started my car moving from the dark side of town back to the light, the car clock flashed 7:17. I'm choosing to think these were signs about new beginnings. New things, new people, new attitudes, new outlooks, a new definition of me, not as a single mom, but as just me. I'm learning how to rethink, going from account balances and to-do lists to listening to my heart, my soul, my intuition.

Still with me? You better be! Like I said, I ain't doin' this crap alone. (The Pit Stop post this month (on the 28th) will have more resources about intuition to get you started, too.)

A PSM Trifecta

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming (or lack thereof, since December went by with nary a post here) to talk about grief. I've always said that PSMing is a grieving process, and while I absolutely do not mean to minimize the actual unbearable loss of a child, I stand by my belief that being a post-single mom can, at times, be a distant second.

I had picked a really good theme for January: intuition. We'll get to it, because it is so important. We single moms transition from factual, methodical, list-making machines to thinking of ourselves as unproductive and useless. We slowly begin to think from our hearts, not from our heads, and learn how to listen to this new place, this intuition. Ah, change. Is there no end? But, I need to put that aside for a minute because I've been blindsided with a PSM trifecta and feel the need to expose myself a little related to the depths of pain we PSMers can experience. This has been one helluva quarter.

In November, a friendship of 11 years ended with a long series of nasty, name-calling, and, I need to say because I never responded in kind, incoming texts. So, my ruminating began (and has yet to end). Is the quality of my friendships so low that they can end so quickly and with such meanness and no second thought? Am I that unworthy? Am I that bad at being and recognizing a true friend? I admit I didn't have a lot of experience at any kind of adult relationship while raising my son. I was so driven, so financially focused. And, after all, and I know other single moms and post-single moms understand this: I had a best friend. My Spawn. (Poor kid.)

In December, I lost a dear friend and fellow PSMer to alcoholism. 2012 was her 5th year of recovery from Stage 3 breast cancer. She had a 17-year-old daughter who was just looking into colleges and a 20-year-old son who had recently transferred to a school 90 minutes away. She was alone over the Christmas holidays, as was I, but we didn't check in with each other in time. We were supposed to go to the movies the Thursday night before Christmas, but she couldn't go because she said the kids were coming over. Patricia was the coolest gal pal I ever had. Just cool. And inspiring and positive and supportive and so fun and funny. We clicked. I knew she was fighting a battle but really thought it was something we could overcome once she got through that initial blast of aloneness. I was wrong. I value the fact that we met through the local PSM group here in Indianapolis and that I think we were a huge help to each other her last two years here. We got tattoos together in October and had such a fun time that day. She taught me so much about empathy and patience and kindness and openness and peace and acceptance. I loved her and told her so and for that I am truly grateful. And so sad.

This brings us to January. In less than two weeks, Spawn, recently college graduated (a year early if you're thinking you lost time somewhere), is road tripping to Nevada for a year-long job as a botanist for the Bureau of Land Management in Lake Tahoe. Yes, I know, the lucky bastard. LOL. I'm ecstatic for him. And proud. Yes. Yes, I am. Yes. Definitely. But it's damn near the west coast. I'm in the midwest. I'm from the south. This is no place I've ever been before, so I feel even more distant not knowing anything about what he's going to experience. What if he gets lost? What if a cowboy wants to fight him? (He's not a fast draw.) What if he runs out of Burger King coupons? What if he gets nibbled on by a bear? For the first time, I can't get to him in a day. Of course, I can by plane. Of course. But it still feels a world away.  Mostly, though, he's just gone....again. When does all this leaving stop?

I usually like to pinpoint a Stage so I can identify it, get to know it, and work through it, but I can't even pick one. Though, I know I'm not irritated or anxious, because I haven't resorted to watching Brady Bunch episodes yet. Jane Austen movies, yes, but not the Brady Bunch. I suppose that's healing and hopeful. Rehab. And talking to you helps.

28-Day Pit Stop (November)

On the 28th day of each month (in honor of PMS and that whole menstrual cycle thing), we make a Pit Stop to rally support for each other during a particular moment of PSM.

This month's little adventure is entitled "Holidays Suck", and it is only for those PSMers to whom that applies. If your holidays are fun and cozy and warm and Hallmark card picture perfect, just ignore this post. This is not about you, as they say.

First, I'll tell you a little about my holidays, since I consider myself a shining example of PSM Extreme. In 2002, my 12-year-old spawn and I moved to Indianapolis. We always spent Thanksgiving together, just the two of us, but Christmas was spent in Atlanta where his father's side of the family lives. After two years, I realized that he wasn't getting the attention he deserved while I tagged along, so I stopped going. I began meeting his father for a halfway handoff in Nashville, Tennessee, and then driving solo back to Indianapolis. We did this until he was old enough to drive himself. Result: Christmas alone. (Well, one year my father did invite me to his house, but he called the week after that to tell me that his plans changed, and that they had to go visit family for the holiday, and while I realize that this is another story, I did feel the holiday need to get that dig in, didn't I? I did also receive the occasional pity invitation locally, but I always thought that was just too awkward to bear, even though I was and remain very grateful to those people.) Anyway, my son has just graduated from college and is living with his paternal grandparents in Atlanta. So, you guessed it. He is spending both holidays there now. And, frankly, I understand. I wouldn't want to drive eight hours to spend a holiday with me either, if I had houses full of family to be with, including a couple of grandmothers who kitchen like it's 1955. I'm hardly the draw I never really was.

So, when I say holidays suck, my perception could be a smidge skewed. But this is where I'm going to stop and get a little positive. I know! I hope you were holding onto something. I have to tell you that I actually love the holidays. I even like them alone. I like the music, the snow, the lights, the candles, the Pottery Barn and Crate and Barrel catalogs I come close to using for decorations, and even the occasional Lifetime movie. Well, maybe not Lifetime, but Hallmark. In fact, just last night I watched a pretty good one called Trading Christmas. It was mature, fairly realistic, and just funny and unsappy enough to make me think of it in a nice light. It nudged me to even think about putting up a tree this year (although, that does feel akin to work and, besides, I could get a last-minute invitation to Paris or Tuscany (as if)). 

This may sound strange, but the first few years of solo holidaying were a relief. I guess it was because of the time off from life? Everything was so quiet at home, in the office. I would even lie to people about having plans so they'd leave me alone. But after those first couple of years, I admit it got really lonely. This was right around the time Spawn left me for college, so I was lonely a lot. Why should the holidays be any different? Ahhhh, the throes of PSM. Which brings me to more positive stuff.

I have to tell you that the best thing I ever did for myself was to create this PSM community and make connections with some of the coolest women ever. Women going through transitions. With kids still in the house. Without kids at home. With kids with two homes. Living and working and dreaming in their own unique ways. Marching to their own drummers. Growing. Discovering. Learning. Finding their ways. I didn't make time (who knew I needed to!?!) to find a "tribe" while Spawn was growing up, but had I, I'm not sure it would be the tribe I need and appreciate so much today.

While developing the PSM concept, a friend told me about www.meetup.com, and I actually created a local group there that is taking off. It has led to some wonderful connections, lunches, dinners, conversations, and even a book club. I would love it if we could organize chapters in every state in the country. If you're reading this and in another town and interested, please let me know. I think our community is so important, but I also know, first hand, how life-altering it can be to step out of ourselves, reach out, and take a chance. I am still an awkward and nervous wreck before every get-together. I'm doing it afraid, as they say, and it's hard. A fellow PSMer said, "The hardest part is that very first step." It's so true! But it's also so worth it. I get to talk to people going through similar successes and struggles. It's a deeply personal and emotional connection I craved post-single motherhood. My point is that, if I can do it, anyone can. Reach out this holiday season to just one like-minded person (me?) and see where it takes you in 2012. Despite the news, I promise, it won't be the end of the world.

November's Pit Stop Suggestion:

You may have to start something yourself. Remember that once you make the first step, the rest is easier. Here are a few suggestions:

Find or START a reading, writing, hiking, sushi-eating, scrabble-playing group at www.meetup.com

Look through the Craigslist Community Section for your town

Church groups - call to ask for a list if there's not one online already

Sign up for a class - some local places have free events, too - and sit by someone similar in age and demeanor

If anyone has any more suggestions, yell! I'm no expert...

Uncle, Almost

If you know me at all, you know that I stand pretty firmly on the top floor of the flagstand that a man is not the prize at the end of the PSMer's race.  I'm sure there are some great guys out there, I am. Well, not sure, but hopeful, let's say. On a good day. Or a bad day, depending on how you look at it. But a prize? No way, no how. If you're in that camp, spend an hour on match.com, and report back. I bet you have to spend a day or two rallying back to hopeful.  

You might also know how carefully I avoid this topic in most conversations and how tired I am of waving the checkered flag of defense. Speaking of tiresome, I love you marrieds to death, you know that, but damn. Stop ending your "Guess what Doofus did last night" story with a question about when I might start dating. I mean, really. Enough already.

Okay, thank goodness that's done, because now I have something to say that you might not know about me. One thing I have noticed as I've worked my way through PSM is that things affect me more than "normal" people (those who are more experienced at processing and expressing adult emotion and interaction through regular socialization). As a result, I can dwell for years on the seemingly tiniest of connections with people. And once in a big great while, this people I refer to is a man. And, well, I admit that it's just different.

After all these warrior years, I now see that there is something about a man's soothing word or two, his kind gesture, his pat on the back, even his teasing, or his foreign way of putting things that has more effect than all the words from all the bestest gal pals poured in a cake pan, baked all golden and sweet, topped with buttercream frosting, spoon fed, and washed down with chocolate ice cream.

So here's my man blip: (I know he will never read this, nor will any man I know, which is good. They have no business knowing how something so small can mean so much to a female of the species. It might make them not do small things at all, or it might make them only do small things. And no good can come of either.)

Disclaimer: This was not a date. Repeat. This was not a date. Bleh. But I was affected so much by it that a tiny rendition of his initial is now and forever etched on me. Don't guess, and don't tell him. First, I'll deny it, and then, I'll hunt you down.

Hello hug. Nice to meet you. How long are you here? Let's get together. Message me. How about Wednesday? Great. I'm running late. You're busy. We don't need to. No, I'd love to. Meet me in front of the bookstore. I'm here. Hello hug. Walk to dinner. Sangria and sushi. Takes the pencil. Do you like X? Good. How about Y? Cool. I like Z, do you? Yes. Done. Dessert? No. Should we have another? Yes. No, I got it. Want to walk for a while? Music. Breeze. Sunset. Moonrise. Art stores. Record stores. Street vendors. Funny hats. Talk. Pictures. Walk. Talk. Walk. Stores close. Tourists head home. Friends meet on the street. Band plays in the cafe. Dancing. Standing room only. Locals. Hippies with far-fetched stories to tell. Where's your car? Parking lot. Goodbye hug. Good words. Next day. Blessings to you. And to you. And remember...

See? Small. Huge. Spontaneous. Special. A standard. Full of life. Love. Yea, small. For some.

All this to get back to my point: I know some really fine women who dearly love men in their lives. I know some who can take them or leave them. I know some who don't have one but really want one. And I know some who have nothing to do with men, period. But I think you'd be hard pressed to find any of us immune to the sporadic man-melt. I know it's slightly windy up here on my flagstand, so, I'll be a little gentler next time I'm asked about my dating life. Maybe. I'm a PSMing work in progress.