500 Words a Day Challenge - A Persuasive Piece

“Oh, but she has kids.”

I heard this phrase more times today than I would have liked. It was often accompanied by a slight sigh, and a wistful dragging out of the last word, letting it hang in the air, compelling listeners to collectively dwell on the same toxic thought - What if she hadn’t? Then maybe her potential wouldn’t be wasted. But oh well. Moving on to the next young hopeful...

Perhaps one of the things that got me the most flustered, is that this all took place at a meeting for the Women’s Federation for World Peace, a very good organization committed to empowering women and re-establishing the traditional family as the cornerstone of a peaceful world.

One of the organization’s leaders, a mentor of mine, coined the term “familiarchy” to replace the terms of patriarchy and matriarchy. Rather than settling for one or the other gender to dominate societal infrastructure, as both the majority of history and the more recent feminist movement have fallen into the trap of doing, the much better solution is to revive the family unit - mother, father, children, grandchildren - treating the entire unit as society’s top priority.

It made me so sad to hear that tired old phrase coming from the mouths of people who so desire to improve things for women, and for the family at large. But I wasn't angry at any of them, because I realized that they did not say it consciously. It is something we have all heard over and over again, and if you hear it often enough, you begin to believe it. I found myself angry at the society we live in, which has trained us to view mothers of young children as life's “benched” participants. That because of their tremendous responsibilities at home raising their little ones, they are no longer capable of utilizing their talents, skills, knowledge and experiences to serve anything beyond the kitchen sink or the playground. 

This is desperately untrue.

Perhaps now more than ever, women have an abundance of resources to offer themselves in service to global needs. The biggest and best example is the internet and its complementary technology, with products like the iPad and smart phones. The ability to blog, to self-publish, to cultivate an online presence and connect with a worldwide online community from virtually anywhere is something our foremothers could only have dreamed of.

Women not only have the option of seeking help, support and understanding from other women in the same situation, they have the option to be that support. Thousands of mothers have taken to the blogosphere, sharing their experiences and knowledge with anyone interested, and the results have been astounding. Some of the most compelling bloggers have created a means of entrepreneurship, selling their resources in the forms of books, online courses and other materials. This is an incredible model that many more could harness.

Beyond self-gain, the internet and other media can also be better utilized by organizations like the one I mentioned above. By better establishing their online presence with more modern elements like blogging or multimedia content, such organizations would not only have a new way to extend their help to unnecessarily disenfranchised women, but they could give those women the means to contribute more freely, particularly in roles less affected by location or work schedule, such as writing, editing, accounting, media production and social media management.

In short: having kids doesn't mean a woman is no longer competent. If she wants to, she can still do plenty to help the world.

Of course, this doesn't mean that simply handing a mom an iPad with 3G will magically enable her to become a fulltime webmaster or media producer. What I think those women above meant to say was, "it's not easy juggling kids with other commitments," to which I would loudly respond, "HELL YES." 

And this is an area that needs real consideration.

Part of the reason why we believe mothers of young children are unable to do bigger things is that our social and business infrastructure is completely unsuitable for these women. By making "the bottom line" the bottom line instead of the family, an entire group of highly contributive individuals has been marginalized. Mothers - women with deep intuition and an instinct to lovingly do what is best for her family - have much to share with areas like the business or political spheres, which have long been imbalanced by testosterone-driven values like competition and assertiveness, and could use a motherly touch to set them right.

We - be it our families, our organizations or our businesses - must wake up to the reality that serving the needs of the family will also serve the needs of the larger group, and would nourish these groups in ways that money alone cannot. Society would be in a much healthier, more balanced state if the family were placed where it ought to be - above our financial worth.

To summarize, we as a society need to let go of the thoughts and practices which hold us - and especially the mothers among us - back. By taking advantage of the tools we already have and by engaging more resources in service to the needs of families, we can empower women to summon all of their beautiful abilities in creating a new world - one which all of us can enjoy together.

The 500 Words a Day Challenge!

Hello everyone,

Jeff Goins, who hosts a brilliant blog for writing advice, has started up a 500 Words a Day Challenge for the month of January. I have been going at it for a few days now, and I have to say, I write much more freely and with far greater results when I have a smaller goal! This is the piece I wrote today; I may backtrack and post more pieces from previous days.

This piece, based on a prompt by Jeff, is a letter to my child:

My dear Baby,

You are so beautiful and pure. Your smile illuminates a room, and your unadulterated joy when you discover something interesting brings the little girl in me back out too. I love spending my days with you - who wouldn’t want to fill their days with such sweet, true love?

As I watch you breathe in all the curiosities and wonders of this big world, I catch myself already thinking of when I will send you off to school, or to let you play with the other kids in the playground. I think of the days when you will go join your friends for an afternoon of play once school lets out for the summer, and the day you head off to college. I think of those days, and I get scared. 

Your sweet little mind would probably wonder, why is Mama afraid? Aren’t those things good too? Is she afraid she’ll miss me? Of course, that is a part of it. I know I will miss you when you become more independent (and I remind myself of that on days when I’ve spent maybe a little too much time with you). But there is another part to this fear, this worrying. I want to try my very best to fill your heart with love, with trust, with the habit of always acknowledging the goodness in people. I want to help you hang onto your glorious wonder that I see whenever you exclaim “CAR!” every time you see anything with wheels, your compassion that I see when you hug your doll and study his face, your sweet smile when you get to know new people - keeping all these beautiful qualities will help you grow into such a wonderful young man, the kind we wish we would see more of in this world. 

It is exactly that - this world - that fears me. I fear that those boys you go off and play with will teach you things that contradict the beauty and goodness in this world. I don’t fear the boys themselves; it would be hypocritical for me to ask you not to judge people, and then judge them myself. But sometimes other children can be cruel, and they can make you feel bad or weird or wrong to do or think certain things, like to enjoy being with your Mama and Papa, or to not like guns, or to not want to pick anyone to have a crush on, because you’d rather relate to people as brothers and sisters. I’m scared that, out of an intense desire to be accepted and included, that you might exclude me and Papa from your life, or you might decide to hide away the best parts of yourself, all in the name of “being cool” or “being a man.” 

I can’t bear to lose you, not only for my own sake, but for yours. Please, my love, do not ever compromise yourself just to fit in. Of course, I don’t want you to ever feel alone, though it will probably happen at some point. But you know what? In those moments, there might be other boys and girls who feel alone too, because what they’re scared to admit is, they think and feel just like you. They don’t want to laugh at the kid that seems different. They don’t want to have boyfriends or girlfriends. They want to share their love of science or show off their stamp collection, but they worry that other kids will think it’s stupid. Those kids feel alone too. 

Here’s where you come in, my love. When you have the courage to let your You-ness shine brightly, you give others the courage to do the same. And when those kids find it within themselves to be brave like you, and step forward in their Them-ness, then they don’t have to feel alone anymore. And neither will you.

So please, don’t buy into the messages you will hear (and I’m so sorry, but you will hear them whether I let you or not), whether they come from mouths or screens or eyes or hands. Messages that tell you to assert yourself through force, or through anger, or through apathy. Don’t let those messages strip you, bit by bit, of your divine essence. If you do, you will wake up years later, forgetting most of the names of the people you tried so hard to impress, and wishing you could remember yourself. The true you. 

Let’s be true, together. It’ll be worth it, I promise.

Love,

Mama

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.