writer, teacher,
New stories. New textures. New possibilities. When I became a mother in 2016, I knew that I would bring a blend of experiences and gifts different than any mother in my family before me. See, I was the first woman in my family to begin motherhood with a college degree--and then an advanced degree--plus a solid feminist marriage.
But I wasn't prepared for the ways in which old stories would rub against my experiences of motherhood. Old stories of my sexual trauma, of generational trauma, of what it means to be a good mother and a woman in a body.
The old stories felt very alive, full of limitations, fears, and bitterness. I would keep living these stories if I didn't consciously create new ones.
I began writing my thoughts and feelings in a Google Doc on my phone after my baby fell asleep on my chest. I'd kept diaries and journals since I was a kid, and suddenly I needed to write with an urgency I hadn't felt since puberty.
In writing, I found confession of feelings I worried I shouldn't be feeling. I mapped expectations and realities, hopes and fears, sacred intentions and ways that my values were also changing. I named needs and desires that still felt too bold to voice to those around me--but not for long.
I'm...
a Southern storyteller who's a little bit dark night of the soul and a little bit rose-colored glasses. As in tune with pleasure as with pain.
mother of two
Writing new stories helped me live new stories. Today I am growing a garden of healing stories.
From her home in Mississippi, Catherine writes & teaches at the alluvial intersection of motherhood, creativity, & pleasure.
With over a decade of experience as a writing teacher, Catherine holds a master of arts in curriculum & instruction. She is passionate about creating spaces for women, mothers, and caregivers of all gender expressions to play with words and get to the heart of what matters to them. She brings wonder, curiosity, and a spirit of transformation to the writing process.
because you asked: leo sun, cancer moon, libra rising
also: enneagram 4, INFJ, mid-life slytherin
at a glance
the body in motherhood
magnolias, cicadaS, feathers, resurrection ferns. What can we learn about ourselves through intimate contact with nature?
matriarchal lineage & ancestral origins
processes of healing & transformation, especially reclaiming power & embodiment after intimate partner violence.
We write for self-expression, to invite our quiet inner voice to name what needs naming. Or to make a space for the raging voice to be heard and honored. We write to connect with our bodies, to stop and notice the sensations, to name the spaces that feel tight and pinched and the places that feel open and spacious. We write, we write, we write. To feel life pulsing. To compost the past. To dream boldly into the future. To act with intention.
elsewhere:
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