I have always believed in fate and destiny on some level. But what happens with free will then? What is the point if we are all headed towards a final destination?

This is one of those existential questions I’ve thought about a lot and have been trying to find my version of truth.

As I’m diving into the quantum field, I’m wondering if there are infinite possible destinies for us. Though I’m not sure when we die is changeable. (I’m guessing I’ll probably never know.) I do believe that with each decision we make, we have the power to change our future so we have both free will and all these possible versions of our lives. It’s like a choose-your-own-adventure book!

As I took a client through meditation today, she saw a future that was not her ideal. As we explored that future, we gained such wisdom from it and from the future version of her.

Exploring an unideal future does not mean that we are destined for it or that we have to accept it. It means that we are taking in one possible version of our lives and taking in the lessons from it. Who is more qualified to tell us what not to do than the version of us that is living that unideal future.

I wish everyone the space to explore the futures – the unideal and the ideal versions – as each will share their wisdom with us.

My mom doesn’t quite get the point of Mother’s Day. In her opinion, everyday is Mother’s Day if your kids listen to and care for you. She also thinks there is no need to celebrate her birthday because “we eat chicken everyday.” (Another comment to explore in another post.)

Part of me embraces her perspective around Mother’s Day because I have some real strong feelings about Hallmark holidays. And another part of me, the one that grew up in American culture, is pulled by the need to celebrate Mother’s Day because mothers need to be acknowledged in a society that constantly dismisses our value.

So many times, I feel like I’m being torn apart from the inside by these ideals.

Then on top of those feelings are the various ways people I know and love feel about this holiday. Those who do not have living children, those whose mothers have passed, those who are estranged from their mothers, those who wish they were mothers, those who feel unworthy for choosing to not be a mother, those who are adopted and never knew their birth mother, those who were not raised by a mother and the varied experiences go on and on.

This makes Mother’s Day so complicated.

I am writing all of this after a long weekend of visitors and a very late night tending to an extremely overtired child during which I felt like a complete failure of a mother.

Motherhood makes me question EVERYTHING about myself. One of my core truths is that my children and I were destined to be in these relationships, and while I do not think I will ever release this truth, my parenting experience constantly tests it. And then when that happens on Mother’s Day, a day where we acknowledge some glossed over version of motherhood, the pain is magnified.

And I realize now what I dislike about the holiday – the glossiness of it. The seemingly perfect pastel-y version of motherhood makes me want to gag. This is not to shame anyone who posted pictures of their delicious brunch or the flowers and gifts they got. We deserve to be celebrated! It’s just that I am so so tired of how this unreal version motherhood is perpetuated, especially on social media.

In honor of Mother’s Day, can we kick off this next year and really challenge and change how motherhood is experienced?

Can we share more about our real thoughts and experiences about motherhood?

Can we talk about how motherhood triggers our own experiences as children?

Can we highlight that motherhood not only brings us great joy but also those dark nights of the soul?

Can we challenge our partners, particularly those of us in hetero relationships, to pick up more of the mental and emotional load?

Can we build a village and trust, lean on and ask others to support us with various parenting duties?

Can we acknowledge that mother’s guilt is a real thing?

Can we be real and tell those who are pregnant that birth is just the beginning?

Can we support the new mothers we know, and I mean truly support them, by cooking and dropping off meals, doing their laundry, watching their older kids and checking in on them?

Can we stop the romanticization, capitalization and commodification of motherhood?

Can we stop the perpetuation that motherhood is expected for women who start hitting their mid-20s and 30s by calling out when that is happening?

Can we ensure that those who wish they did have children are seen in their role as community leaders, teachers, aunties, bonus grandma’s and other wise people supporting our communities?

Can we push for more support for working mothers in our corporate settings with better leave policies and a culture that enables flexibility?

Can we support doulas, midwives and birthing centers who are so critical to the entry into motherhood for many birthing people?

And there is so much more, especially for the later years that I’m not as familiar with. 

Let’s un-glossify motherhood. Maybe then, everyday will be Mother’s Day and we won’t need the holiday at all.

To close – I want to acknowledge whatever your experience is around Mother’s Day is valid – however complicated or uncomplicated it is. 

Many times in my life, I have found something super interesting and then would dive right down that rabbit hole only resurfacing for food and drink.

I think we’ve all had moments like that, especially when we were younger – devouring book series, learning all we could about a favorite animal or bug, mastering a video game and obsessively feeding (and subsequently killing) our Tamagotchi.

In high school, I took an accounting class and loved it so much, I took the next level class the following year, found a part-time job in an accountant’s office, became an officer for the Future Business Leaders of America club and then applied to business programs for college to be an accountant. That last part brings a chuckle every time I think about it. However, I don’t discount that aspiration because it led me to where I am today.

After college, I hopped from my idea to start a catering service for new moms to holistic health and wellness (that was a huuuuge rabbit hole) which led me to my health coach certification.

I find it so important to follow these curiosities because while I have gotten lost down many rabbit holes, I have always emerged on the right path.

My current rabbit hole is Dr. Joe Dispenza’s work. A series of events led me to practice one of his meditations for the last month, and it has really been the last week I’ve completely put the blinders on and am voraciously taking in his book, You are the Placebo, and listening to podcast interviews. While I have heard about Dr. Joe, the quantum field and the concept of mind over body, it has never intrigued me until I was ready for it.

There is no shame in diving down a rabbit hole “late.” It may seem that everyone has known about the topic/subject at hand but it’s really not the case. Not everyone is a first mover and there is no need to try to be. We need to answer what calls to us when it calls to us. Yes to believing in divine timing!

When we are ready, the rabbit hole will appear.

Often, I sit down to write and I think – I will write about this one topic or word or experience. And then by the time I am done, I’ve woven in a bunch of other stories or ideas and landed on a conclusion about a totally different topic.

This wandering is quite frowned upon in academic settings where most of us learned how to “write.” I put write in quotes because so many would-be writers have been discouraged from writing by rule-ridden academic writing. There is certainly merit to claiming a thesis, structuring an argument and offer supporting statements; however, the rigidity of it dismisses how individuals actually think.

We all think differently. Some people may very much follow this structure of Point A and 3 subpoints followed by Point B and 3 subpoints. I know for me, it took a long time to understand what a thesis was for a book analysis, and I remember how proud I was to finally get what all the parts were and how they fit together.

My true writing style is what is on my blog. It is a slightly filtered free-for-all as I let my thoughts loose each time I put fingers to keyboard.

There are few arenas where we can freely allow one thought to float to the next, and for me, writing is absolutely the one I feel safest in doing that. Unfortunately, many writers carry those academic guidelines and standards as their North Star. The content does not go beyond one note, and the writer doesn’t get a chance to explore and express.

To be clear, this doesn’t mean we create writing that dribbles from one topic to another without coherence or conclusion.

What it does mean is that we need to allow ourselves to explore when we write. It is an opportunity we give ourselves to make those otherwise invisible connections. It brings coherence to our brains and beings. So please write and let your thoughts wander.

We are in the second week of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month in the United States, and it feels appropriate for me to share the following story, a revelation in my identity as a Chinese-American woman. It was actually originally written on October 29, 2021 and has been sitting in my drafts folder since. I’ve held off because 1) it’s a story that I’m not necessarily proud of and 2) I wanted to get the ‘okay’ from a friend before publishing and I finally gathered the courage to share this piece with her last week. (A big thank you to her for allowing this to be shared!!)

Exploring identity is my jam and butter and all my other favorite toast toppings. It is through exploring who I am that I’ve discovered my truths as well as opened my eyes to the world and an understanding of other people. Being second generation Chinese-American was and is the ocean I swim in. When you are so deep in your ocean, it is not easy to differentiate your individual experiences as unique because we think everyone else is in the same position. I hope that this post gives you an opportunity to extract your own experiences and see them in a different way.

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I have always loved books and the opportunities they have provided for me. Starting in third grade, I volunteered at my elementary school library and helped Mrs. Wolff (the librarian) with whatever she needed. I especially liked stamping the due date on the check out cards which were then slipped into the little slots in the back of the books. During my childhood summers, I walked to the public library with an empty backpack and borrow dozens of books every few days. As an adult, I have three reading apps on my phone as well as shelves packed with books around my house. Books were and are still very much my refuge and knowledge source.

As a 9 year-old Chinese-American girl, I clung to Claudia Kishi, a Japanese character in The Baby-Sitters Club’s series, as a lifeline. She made me think, “I can exist in stories like this!” Books were different back then – I don’t remember many stories featuring Asian characters while growing up.

It never occurred to me, until I was an adult, that my white friends never experienced that. They never had to search the shelves of the library to find a book cover featuring a character that looked like them. They didn’t have to grasp onto one character that sort of resembled them to feel like maybe their stories were worth telling and sharing. Their identity was never tokenized and reduced to one characteristic of their identity.

What I’ve come to realize in my unlearning of what is normal in this culture is that you lose your individuality when you are tokenized. Your personality does not matter so much because it plays second fiddle to your identity as the only (fill in the blank) person. For instance, I remember more details about the other three main characters of The Baby-Sitters Club than I do Claudia. Not having picked up a BSC book in 25 years, I can tell you Kristy was the sporty one, Stacey was the fashionista and Mary Anne was the quiet, studious one. And then, Claudia was the Japanese one…

Being Chinese has always been central to my identity, not only because it is something I cannot really hide but also because it is something I am really proud of. And I love connecting with other Asian people over this shared background. Being tokenized as the Chinese person highlights a part of me that I really love. So the times that I have been tokenized, I never even realized it because I thought others were embracing me for that part of me.

However, it was apparent that tokenization had been internalized during one instance in 2020.

My friends and I were starting a local social justice group. Invitations were extended to other people to join an initial planning group.

We gathered in a socially distanced circle as we greeted one another from afar. Then, a Chinese-American woman, who I am friendly with and who I completely respect, approached the circle. I could feel my tentacles raising up. It was a peculiar feeling, one that I couldn’t have fully articulated at the time, but one that I can now describe as feeling threatened. But why?

I felt threatened that I’d be unseated as the token Chinese person in the group. Threatened because (my survival brain thought) there wasn’t enough room for two Chinese people in this group! Yes – I realize it is absolutely absurd in this particular scenario as we were creating a group focused on diversity, equity and inclusion. But I also believe this is why this particular instance has stuck in my mind. The setting made it quite obvious that my thoughts were the issue – not her! I had internalized beliefs that there was only room for one of us in that circle. I also felt threatened that I would be evaluated on other aspects of who I was and feeling inferior to her personality, intelligence and poise – again thinking there was only spot for one of us.

When I think of stories of women turning on each other in boardrooms, I realize this is exactly why.

When you’ve been tokenized for a long time and your value is centered first on an external and unchangeable attribute and not your contribution or other merit, you internalize it and feel territorial. We are social beings. We want to belong. But if the social structure we are part of only has room for one of us, we will act out in fear instead of in collaboration. We will perpetuate the structure to ensure there is a place for one of us and only one place.

But I am tired of carrying this weight around. It is not right for someone to feel like who they are can be reduced down to one attribute. It is not right for someone to not be recognized fully. And it is not right for the next generation to experience the same. With my children growing up in a fairly homogenous town, it a concern that they will carry this burden with them. The work that I do in calling out these false beliefs within me and the shortcomings of our culture is in dedication to a future where there is more than enough space in the circle for all of us.

(Originally written October 29, 2021 and finally published May 12, 2023)