My Passion

You may have noticed that there's a very particular blog entry which I have not posted yet. 

That's because I've been avoiding it like the plague.

You remember that four-word phrase which is not to be named on this blog? (The one the blog is named after?) Well, it's an incredibly handy phrase to use in avoiding the fact that I am so, so insecure about what my passions are. But after reading a fantastic post about how the most crucial step to take is the first, I'm mustering up the courage to talk about this with you.

My dance with passion started out simple enough, with its sights set on one clear thing: horses. I read about, dreamed about, drew, collected toys of and eventually rode horses from age 5 until about 17, when the trainer I worked for in exchange for free riding lessons 'laid me off'. Riding was way too expensive to continue on my own, and while the desire to continue remained (still does, in fact), my attention shifted to less expensive pursuits.

My church had a theatre group which I joined at age 12, and by the time I couldn't continue riding, I had worked my way up to writing scripts and directing the other participants. Most of these scripts were about as hokey as they come, but I developed a lot of pride in my work. Watching actors from behind the curtain as they speak your lines is a unique feeling, and it opened my eyes to the thrill - and the responsibility - of being a producer of something.

Around the time I was getting a bit too old for children's theatre, a new passion came along which again changed my concepts. I followed my friends in joining a nonprofit organization which uses the performing arts to educate young people about HIV/AIDS, and promotes abstinence as the best cure for this major pandemic. At the time, I was beginning to feel that the arts could be used for something more significant than self-gratification, which it was achieving very much for me. Once I became aware of the severity of HIV, and the massive potential the arts have to affect change, I was sold. I worked in a leadership position in the organization during high school, then volunteered full-time for one year before starting college. I traveled across the US and to numerous different countries to perform and to train other young people to start their own performing teams. 

My time with this organization, and the insights culled from that time, inspired me in choosing my two majors in college: peace studies and film. I was absolutely smitten with the idea of reversing pop culture's trends in hypersexualization and violence, and harnessing the arts and the media in the pursuit of global peace. 

Upon graduating, I had zero clue as to how I would achieve my goal, but I happy-go-luckily assumed that the universe would embrace my dreams and guide me on my quest.

Then life happened.

Now here I am, three years later: living in Europe, married, with a baby, and (due to both my parents passing away) responsible for all my family's affairs including the care of my special needs brother, who still lives in the US. My days are filled with cooking and cleaning while my husband is at med school, patiently holding my son's hands as he learns to walk, trying to keep him away from dangers and waiting for him to fall asleep so I can pay bills and fill out forms for my brother's Medicaid. 

When I think of what I once dreamed of being, of doing, something inside me shrinks back. I struggle with the conflicting ideas of "my life is too hard to continue believing that I can still be that person" versus "I can still be that passionate person, as soon as I become better at ____", "It's too late" versus "I'm not brave enough, smart enough, strong enough, disciplined enough."

Both of these things are wrong.

Yes, I can still be that passionate person. It's NOT too late. 

But I already am enough. 

Yes, it will require some creativity and discipline to carve out the time and energy for these things, but those skills aren't somewhere out of reach. What's not needed is bullying myself into attaining new skills, it's shifting my paradigm to discover that the needed skills are already here.

So, down to the bottom line. My passion? It's a mixture of everything from the past and present: creating, performing, serving others, examining the media and considering how it could be used for positivity rather than for selfishness and harm, creating a healthy media landscape for family members of all ages, and using the arts to open the hearts of humanity, helping us all to come back home to who we as the human race are at our essence - gloriously good, peaceful people. 

I wrote this entry months ago, but I've finally worked up the courage to share it. I'd love for you to share your dreams too, starting with below in the comments! Believe me, it's worth working up the courage for.

Wearing Our Passion

Today I took a look at my husband's med student uniform - white lab coat, stethoscope, name badge, topped off with a kind smile. I couldn't help but smile back, knowing that this is the man that thousands of patients will find themselves face to face with. I know he'll use his presence of mind and body to help them feel better, and I'm really proud of him.

As I was giving our little one a bath, I found my mind wandering towards a question I've never really pondered: if my passion had a uniform, what would it be? 

Nope, it's not a life or death question. Not even close to critical. But I think we've established here at "But I'm a Mom" that there are no questions too small or seemingly stupid for your consideration. 

So, back to the question. If I were to create a visual identity for my passion, what would that visualization include? 

Here's the details I have in mind:

- acrylic paint on my fingers and clay in my cuticles. 

- a pencil, pen and notebook in my pocket

- clothes with actual pockets (because women's clothes have a serious lack of pocketage, am I right?!)

- shoes would be optional :)

And now, it's your turn: what would you wear for your passion?

A Bit of Backstory

My knee-jerk opener to this entry would be, "So sorry to have taken this long to update," but you know what? You are a Mom too, and you'd probably understand that my son's three-sleepless-night battle with teething pain let the wind out of my blogger sails. So, I'm not sorry. Momming happens.

While my blog update schedule has not followed its intended course, my update topic still can. If you'll humor me, I think it's important to share with you a bit about what has made me who I am today, so that if you choose to read my future updates, you'll have some context. 

The basics? 

Hi there. I'm Cathlene, a 25 year old wife and mom of an 8.5 month old little boy. 

I live in Switzerland, supporting my husband (who I met via arranged marriage within my faith of the Unification Church - but that's another story) in his path as a med-student, but I grew up in Northern New Jersey with my Mom and my special needs older brother. 

Hm. The basics are already pretty complicated. But that's true of everyone in some way.

I was raised in the deeply supportive, nurturing nest my Mom painstakingly built for her children. Despite being thrown challenge after challenge - being told as a child that she had no professional future, dropping out of high school, giving birth to a child with Down's Syndrome, and her husband suddenly passing away - she always managed to keep this glowing ember of hope inside her, and it filled my life with warmth and optimism. She taught me to stay mindful of life's small beauties, yet she always encouraged me to have big ambitions, even if they weren't lucrative. Her steadfast support followed me through my love of horses, through theatre, through non-profit performing arts-based HIV education, to film, to... whatever it is I'm doing now.

I was on the fast track to a life of creative altruism, double majoring in Communications and Global Peace & Justice Studies in hopes of harnessing the arts and the media to create peace. Just months after obtaining my degrees, my Mom suddenly passed away, following my late father of 20 years to heaven. I was left responsible for my brother. A couple of months after that, my husband and I found out we were expecting our first child. Somewhere in this whirlwind of sudden adulthood, I lost my space to dream. Dreaming felt stupid, because I was sure to be disappointed somehow, either by the realities of life or by my own thoughts of inadequacy. 

It's not to say that my new role as a caretaker has killed my dreams. No way. Au contraire, being a parent has unearthed emotions I never before felt, whether it was helping my brother to mourn our Mom in his own way, or hearing my son laugh for the first time. My library of inspiration is volumes richer. 

That being said, it's tough to greet each day with the same vigor as before my abrupt end of childhood and beginning of parenthood. 

My husband pushes me to continue following my dreams, but his goals surpass mine in their immediacy and need for support themselves. After all, someone's got to take care of the baby, and the house, and my brother's wellbeing, and money certainly doesn't grow on trees. And yet, there's still this beast clawing at me from inside, desperate to re-inject me with passion, and for me to inject others too, so we can make things genuinely better here on earth. Daily life can be so smothering though, and I don't know how to escape it.

My mom's final birthday gift to me was a writing kit. She believed I had stories inside me that the world needed to hear. I don't want to let her, or the world, down.

So there you have it.

"But I'm a Mom."

I've said those four words many times. Perhaps you have too. 

It's not an empty statement; Motherhood is the ultimate standard for full-time occupation. Who else is on call 24/7/365, ready to meet her child's every need? Who else will eat her kid's half-eaten food, will clean up mess after mess after mess, and will stubbornly ignore how many collective hours of sleep she's lost in helping her child reach dreamland? 

Motherhood is hard, but there's nothing like its rewards. Our children's little smiles and giggles or their newly reached milestones flood us with joy, and the little moments of bonding remind us of how blessed we are to be Moms.

But then there are those moments when something shoots a pang of longing through our hearts. A longing for more. Sometimes it's a false pang fabricated by our guilt-driven, "Mommy Wars" society that loves to tell us that, for whatever reason, we're not good enough as Moms. Those pangs are better off being ignored. 

But other times, that longing is real, from deep within.

What some Moms don't talk about, whether it'a because they are too busy to bother mulling over it or out of despair that things won't change, is that we are all more than Moms. 

Yes, some might call that statement impertinent. More than a Mom? Isn't parenthood supposed to be one of the highest callings of human existence? Aren't our kids our greatest life work? Is the rest really that important?

Yes. It is.

You are a Mom - a brilliant, patient, unconditionally loving vessel, offering your child their first knowledge of what love and goodness means. 

But that is just one of many facets in the jewel you wear on your chest called your Identity. And while your facet of Mom is surely shining bright, maybe those other facets aren't so polished. But they're there, ready to shine your inner light through. A one faceted jewel doesn't sparkle much, but multiple facets allow for true radiance.

I am starting this blog because I am DONE with hearing my heart repeat those same four, tired old words. I am a Mom, and I am so much more. Dozens of dreams are clawing at me from inside, urging me to participate in this life with much more profundity. 

This blog is not only to hold myself accountable for kicking that phrase to the curb, but to help you do the same. Together, we can infuse our world with many shining facets, and shine forth the light this world so desperately needs. 

Yours.

So tell me - what else are you? 

What do you feel passionate about?

What do you love that you used to do, or perhaps you've had to put aside for now?

What songs, stories or messages do you carry inside that you'd love to share with the world? 

I'd be honored to hear from you.