Friday, May 4, 2012


The Quilt is me. The squares are
 the Wise Women who help me create myself.
I have been lucky to have some truly wise and amazing women in my life. I am drawn to badass women, because as you can tell from my pseudonym, I aspire to be one. When I was in my early 20's I had an amazing mentor. Before I even had an inkling that almost 20 years later, I would be a single mom who wanted to run her own business, there was this badass mama in my life guiding me with her wisdom and sass. She happened to be a single mama, who ran a successful business and who spoke her mind. Tell-It-Like-It-Is-Mama, is funny, firey, and oh, so damn wise. I met her when I was 19 and was mentored by her until I was about 22. Sometimes I had to avoid her so I could wall off her wisdom. I didn't want it to interfere with my fucking up. Eventually, I had to go do that thing where I had to learn by doing instead of by listening, and she and I parted ways. Thank goodness for Facebook where we have hooked up again and I am now privy to her wisdom all over again.

During the 3 year span of our mentor/menti relationship Tell-It-Like-It-Is-Mama taught me a lot, but one thing I have taken to heart was about AFGO's. AFGO stands for Another Fucking Growth Opportunity, and Lawd, Lawd am I going through one now.

AFGO's are often not pretty, and you don't actually have to learn anything from them, but if you do grab the opportunity by the balls, what comes out on the other end, is a pretty amazing orgasm of wisdom, and courage, and peace. AFGO's take a few weeks or months to get through. There is often crying, venting, and general discomfort involved. It is your souls way of saying, "Hey, baby, there is lesson you need to learn, yet you seem to be avoiding. I'm going to make it a little clearer." Then you, the AFGO-ee, have to decide to listen and grow, or stuff it, and wait for the issue to come out in some other strange way.

My dad used to call me Bulldog Jaw when
I was really concentrating on something.
I jut my jaw just like this lovely lady. 
I've decided to listen. Throughout my day I keep repeating to The Committee, "Please let me learn what I need to learn. Please let me hear what you are trying to tell me."  I'm trying to have faith that I won't miss it. Listen, I tell myself, but not too hard 'cause that vein is gonna pop out of your forehead, and you're gonna look like a bulldog from jutting your jaw forward in concentration, and then you'll get a headache.

This morning a friend of mine posted on Facebook, Why Lying Broken in a Pile on Your Bedroom Floor is a Good Thing by Julie (JC) Peters. I, of course, read it immediately. The article talks about a Hindu goddess named Akhilandeshvari, which means the Goddess Never Not Broken. She is the goddess of AFGOs. She finds the beauty, the strength, and the possibility created by the breaking apart of your ego, the shattering of your expectations. As soon as I met her she immediately had a seat at my table on The Committee. She rides a crocodile for goodness sake. How could I resist such a luscious badass, who helps me embrace my never ending need to search and break apart so I can grow, heal, and find peace?

I think in our culture there such discomfort with someone lying broken on the floor. I see the expressions on people's faces when I tell them that I am really sad, and yes, there has been a lot of sobbing. I've heard hundreds of ways to get over it, but few suggestions to, "Take care of yourself, girl, be easy. Treat yourself like your sick." However, that is exactly what my inner voice is telling me to do. Be easy, baby, this is hard. Do not be afraid of pajama days and ice cream sundae's. Do not be afraid of being a little bit of a mess. Do not be afraid to feel what you need to feel.

This morning I woke up aching for my man. Missing him so much that I lay in bed and imagined us curled up. I then reached for my novel to distract my ache. After two pages I knew it wouldn't work so I lay the book down on my chest and just thought, "I am sad. I am sad because I miss my man. I am sad because I'm ready for a partner. This sucks." and then I breathed deep and felt it. Surprisingly it was kind of lovely. This deep ache created because I've had the opportunity to love a man so much, and also that by not being with him, I am taking care of me. It was a beautiful hurt that I felt and I breathed into. After a moment of poking my finger in that ache the pain lessened and my day began. I chose to get off the bedroom floor and walk into my life. (Though you better bet your ass that I am giving myself permission to get back down on it anytime I need. If I'm coming over to your house anytime soon, please make sure the carpets are clean.)

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