A Negative World of Your Own Making
The Role of Perception in Shaping Reality
The internet is a very small place. I once read an essay by G.K. Chesterton about how young people venture out in an attempt to “see more of the world.” He made a poignant argument against this practice; rather than seeing more of the world, heading off to a big city might result in more isolation. When one has a thousand people to choose from in a big city, it’s quite easy to only see the people you like. Chesterton argues that staying exactly where you are means you have to brush up against all of humanity in a way you didn’t contrive. The internet is a small place because we pick and choose what we see. Rather, what we see is picked and chosen for us.
We Catholics like to believe we are immune to the internet’s echoey influence. But no—our perceptions are greatly influenced, if not molded by the way we interact with information technology. I was struck by this revelation during a conversation with my dad. We were chatting about the decisions leading me to where I am today as a homemaker. At one point, he stated that “there are people out there who hate the way [I] live.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean the choices you and [your husband] have made. There are people who hate that your husband works to support you and that you stay home with your son.”
During that conversation, I remember thinking that those people were distant from me. Who were they? Where were they? I was reminded quite suddenly of Substack.
I have become the market audience for a very specific type of content: Christian motherhood. As a result, I am also fed articles about homeschooling, homesteading, and politics (both secular and religious). In Christian motherhood circles, essayists often discuss feelings of judgment and lack of acceptance. Many women believe they are silently condemned for their life choices, whether it’s marrying young, having children early, or embracing “traditional”1 domestic roles. While this judgment does exist, I believe it is often amplified by our own perceptions rather than being a universal truth.
Those judgmental folks are out there. Plenty of people thought I was out of my mind for getting married before I graduated college. On the most part, rather than condemnation, I received caution. Was I sure about this? However, there was one instance of an overly concerned family acquaintance, and I left the conversation feeling attacked. She wanted to be sure I wouldn’t have kids right away, and that I planned to continue teaching. She insisted I would make no money working in a private school, and that I’d be left in ruin if I didn’t work at all.
“Please,” she begged, “just don’t become a stay-at-home mom.” In the end, I brushed this all off. To this day, this is the only negative interaction I’ve had about my choices that planted itself in my memory. Beyond this, my experiences have been overwhelmingly positive. Especially from strangers in public settings.
At the grocery store, for example, people often offer kind words, complimenting my baby or encouraging me to cherish every moment. Even during my son’s occasional tantrums, people respond with compassion—offering help, trying to make him laugh, or even pushing us to the front of the checkout line. I nurse in public all the time, and people don’t even have trouble making eye contact with me and smiling! When I first started shopping wholesale, I was lost in the massive store. An older gentleman helped me find my way about. We ran into each other again at checkout, and he helped me bag my groceries while telling stories of his grandkids. During Mass, regardless of how my son behaves, people approach me with kindness, expressing how a baby’s cries bring them joy and remind them of baby Jesus.
Despite all this support, I expected to get dirty looks when I started bringing my son to daily Mass. Our creaky chapel was built in the 1800s, some of the women veil, many receive on the tongue. The attendees are the picture of reverence. Would they accept a baby at 6:30AM, his cries echoing off those ancient walls, me having to nurse him just to shut him up? The answer is yes. My son sat on my lap in the back pew and waved at everyone who walked in—and they all waved back. The man who sat in the back with us provided introductions so people would know our names. An old woman sat next to me and helped distract my son when he cried. One lady even gifted him a board book after Mass one morning. Shockingly, the words I heard most often were “thank you for bringing him.”
These experiences remind me that a positive world exists and that people often show more support than we expect. Of course, not everyone shares this experience, and I don’t dismiss those who have faced actual negativity. However, I believe that our own self-consciousness can lead us to feel judged when, in reality, most people don’t care as much about our lives as we think they do. How often do we genuinely concern ourselves with others’ actions at the grocery store? Probably not often. Where you see judgment, there may truly be nothing. Since my conversation with my dad, whenever I catch myself thinking about “them” I ask: who do I mean? Who are these inanimate “others” I believe might be looking down upon my life choices? If they even exist, why am I giving them my precious time by thinking about them? Perhaps some people do hate my life decisions. I’m sure some people, if they knew I left my teaching career to care for my son, might view me as selling out or becoming subservient. But these people don’t concern me. I refuse to waste time and energy worrying about the opinions of people I may never meet. While some might dislike our choices, the vast majority show indifference to how others live. Some argue that we live in a world increasingly hostile to Christians, but I lean toward believing that most people just don’t care. Those who do express strong opinions often do so online, where the anonymity of a screen emboldens them.
In the end, we could all benefit from a bit more lightheartedness. There’s a place for sharing grievances, especially with those close to us, but rehashing negative experiences saps our joy. Ultimately, our experiences of judgment often reflect our inner insecurities rather than external realities. By choosing to focus on the kindness and support that exist, we can cultivate a more peaceful interior life.
Note that my use of the word traditional here is colloquial. In reality, the tradition of a wife who stays at home caring for children and a husband who leaves the home to trade skills for wages is post-industrial. I know that further-back tradition might look like both father and mother being home a good amount of the time, and both contributing a significant amount of labor (for a wage or not) to a household.
 |
|