Intuition

 I just hit "publish" on another post, but I have to write this, too.

I guess it's about personal journeys, and I guess it's about reinvention, so it's related. But most of all, it's about intuition.

I have developed my sense of intuition in ways that continue to surprise me. My intuition is uncanny, accurate, and it still amazes me. I don't know exactly how it came into being, or how to control it, but I do know that it feels good, and true, and right, and that it's a gift that I do not intend to squander.

I've felt it a few times in my life, but lately it comes up with greater and greater frequency.

A couple of years back, when looking for dogs on Petfinder, I saw a picture of Chance. Hundreds of dogs were on the site, but I knew he was our dog. I was so sure, as a matter of fact, that when I got the notice after applying to adopt him that said "sorry, he's already been adopted" I was quite upset: partially because I really wanted to be the one to adopt him, but even more because I had been so sure, deep in my bones, that he was my dog, and I was perplexed as to why my intuition that he was destined for our family could be wrong. Tessa's intuition is strong, too, and she was as confused as I was. "Mom," she said, "I'm going to wonder about him for the rest of my life, because I was so sure he was our dog."

A week later, we got the email saying that his new adoptive owners were returning him to rehome him, because they had toddlers and he kept knocking them over and making them cry. He WAS our dog. My intuition didn't tell me how he'd come to us, or the timeline, but I was right all along. He's on his bed, next to my desk, as I write this.

There are many examples, including the day I knew (just KNEW) that I was going to return to the classroom, the day I knew I needed to get divorced, the day I knew that my baby would be a girl... many  more.

But the most recent one was about Tessa going to college.

On the day that she told me, tearfully, that going to community college didn't feel right at all, we were at the breakfast table in our kitchen. We talked, and I heard the truth of her words. We decided to look at some colleges with rolling admissions, and the first one was Central. My friend Jeanette went there, and had been telling me for a year that it was a good fit for Tessa, but we hadn't really paid much heed. Well, on this morning we decided to watch their little intro video; we'd seen a dozen of these videos for other schools, and found them mildly interesting and informative. So there we were, in our pajamas, drinking coffee and tea, and I Googled the Central online tour, and propped my phone up on the candle as we hit play.

Within a minute of the video starting, I started crying. My whole body reacted: my skin felt a not-unpleasant prickly sensation, and my whole being just knew. Tessa looked at me with slight alarm and said, "Why are you crying?" as her own eyes filled with tears. "This is where you're going to college," I said. She said, "But you don't know that! I haven't applied or anything!"

Wiping my tears away, I said, "You can do what you think is best. I am not telling you what to do, or giving you my opinion. I'm telling you that I just know, somehow, that you are going to go to CWU, that you're going to apply and that you're going to get in, and that you are meant to be there."

Tessa had real tears now, too, and she said, "I think you're right."

Within two weeks she had applied and been accepted, and now she's registered for classes, has an assigned dorm room and roommate and meal plan and the rest. At orientation, she made new friends, and they're talking about going mountain biking and other plans.

It wasn't a slam dunk, and I had no reason to "know" but I knew.

I have so many examples of being able to read other people, of just "knowing" what they were thinking or needing; at school, it's not unusual for me to spot students' needs several times a day, and when I say, "I know this might sound a little crazy, but my intuition is telling me that you are in pain/need to talk to someone/etc." the students often burst into tears and say, "How did you know that?!" and tell me something profound or serious. I have given up asking myself why I can do this, or what it means.

What I am asking now is how to use it.

My intuition tells me that I have a book - or several - brewing in me, and that I'm meant to be a writer, and that my stories will bring hope and love to a world in need of healing. My intuition tells me that people will respond to my stories, and that my books will sell, and that my name will be known.

My intuition is bigger than my fear (even when my fear is huge).

It just is.

The only thing I need to do is to follow my intuition.

The day that we watched the CWU video was a Sunday, mid-morning. By the middle of the day we were in a car headed to Central to self-tour. By the end of the tour, Tessa had decided to apply. Within a week, her application was submitted. We could have just sat on our feelings, or dismissed them, or dithered, but once we both knew, we both took action..

My writing has been a long time in developing, but it's time foe me to take action, to create a plan, and to make it happen. Just as my beloved daughter will have to now find her academic strength, her resilience against loneliness or imposter syndrome, in order to find the success that it is her destiny, I will need to fight my own imposter syndrome, insecurities, and the thousands of distractions that prevent my from doing what I know I'm meant to do.

Intuition is a gift, but it isn't a magical cure for all things: it is magical, but it's not a wand that I can wave to make an outcome happen. I think that the intuition is a sign of what is possible, and my belief in it is the thing that can give me strength to keep going.

Had I applied for other dogs instead of taking a pause because I was sure Chance was our dog... then Chance wouldn't be our dog.

Had we thought "CWU might be great but here are the reasons to stay at CC" then Tessa wouldn't be on this path.

And I can believe in my strength and destiny as a writer, but if I don't write, then my intuition will never be realized.

It's time. It's time for me to reinvent myself, and to follow through on my certainty, and to make it happen, even when I'm afraid. Especially when I'm afraid.