River

Lately, I’ve started to visualize my life as a river.

She’s a real beaut. 

Surrounded by tall trees and mountains. She curves through forests, banked by shady trees; winding through cities, carrying on as rapids to more peaceful pastures. 

My river began as a stream and has gained confidence and power along the way. 

There have been moments when my river stalled. She was curious, exploring a side cove. 

Sometimes, she got stuck in a whirlpool. 

Round-and-round she went until she forgot not only where she came from but also where she was going. 

Finally, a particularly dreadful downpour left her overflowing back to her main stream whereupon she realized, with great relief, that the whirlpool wasn’t her final destination. 

No. 

It was just a stop along the way. 

And that’s what this journey called life is. 

A winding river with stops along the way. 

Sometimes bruised and battered. 

Hopefully made stronger. 

We carry on. 

Triple Falls Dupont State Forest, NC 2023

Shattered

Breakups are never easy but some are just messier than others.

I liken it to a broken coffee mug. 

Sometimes you drop the cup and it chips. It sucks, but you can still keep it on the shelf for memory’s sake. 

Other times, the mug shatters entirely. You pick up the pieces but can’t put it back together or make sense of how it ever worked in the first place. You hate to throw it in the trash. It meant so much! 

It’s a total loss. And you’re sad. You’re sad that day and every day you open the cabinet and it’s not there. You’re left with the warm memories and the frustration that it fell apart. 

Time passes. Time softens. Time heals.

Slowly. Maybe too slowly for your likening but this cannot be rushed.

No way but through. 

Then, one day you realize you hadn’t thought about it missing. 

You’ve started enjoying and appreciating your other mugs more. 

And anyway, why did you ever put so much weight into one mug?

You poured your heart and it wasn’t strong enough to hold.

Moving forward, still tender from your loss, you make a silent but important commitment to take caution when adoring something so much. 

You still love. 

But with boundaries. 

So that if they break or leave, you aren’t shattered too. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Boundary

Boundaries.

The older I get, the more I learn just how important they are. 

Setting them, adjusting as needed, and keeping them. 

They are important for all relationships, personal and professional. 

Marriage, friendships, coworkers and family. 

I’ve come to realize I feel most out-of-control when I’ve either failed to set a boundary or neglected to enforce it. 

And I had that come-to-Jesus moment just yesterday. 

One of my daughter’s spiraling separation anxiety has left me feeling suffocated. Aside from school, she will go very few places without me present- the entire time. Which is why we end up hosting most of her friends at our house and why I stay for her after-school activities. 

It’s not her fault. We are seeking multiple avenues of professional help. But it’s exhausting. I’m sure for her, too. 

I birthed her and I will stand by her, through thick and thin. She will know that when things get tough, I am walking alongside her through the muck until she is strong enough to wave goodbye and walk alone. 

But yesterday, I was upset that I was going to miss my husband’s volleyball tournament so that I could stay for my daughter’s weekly extracurricular. And in my frustration and resentment, I realized that her anxiety was now directly affecting MY life, MY marriage. I was failing to keep my boundary. 

So, I explained- you can go to your extracurricular alone or you can miss it and come with me because today, I choose me. I choose my husband. I choose our marriage, which we’ve always stressed comes absolutely first in this family. Without the strength of that bond, the rest collapses. 

He didn’t know I had changed plans and cracked a smile as we walked onto the beach.

I knew I’d made the right choice. 

I kept my boundary. 

I chose him. 

I chose us. 

And stronger together, we will support her. 

Protect

Have a good day at school today, honey.

Thx. Hopefully I don’t get shot.

Just typing this text exchange between me and my seventh grade daughter causes me to erupt into tears.

How are we here? Why?

Do I trust the email our school district sent, reassuring that they are aware and on top of the threat?

Or do I miss a day of work and pull my child from school?

My entire blog is about trusting the process and not living in fear of truth but when it comes to my child’s life, what then?

I can’t believe we have to have this conversation but if in danger, hide and cover your head.

I send her to school knowing that even if she survives her college graduation, she then has large concerts, grocery stores and churches to survive.

It never ends. The threat remains.

If you see someone injured apply a tourniquet above the wound- meaning tie a shoelace or a shirt above the area to stop the blood flow so that they don’t bleed out.

Ooo gross.

She and dozens of others visited the school counselor yesterday. Confused. Scared. Trying to discern whether they are overreacting or reacting appropriately. How is this ever appropriate?

It’s a stark reminder that life is precious, not to be taken for granted even on the most mundane, run-of-the-mill school days.

Love you.

love u.

Dear God, please protect our children.

Because clearly we can’t.

Camille Vaughan Photography

Mindfulness

My friend Harper recently came to visit. 

She’s single, doesn’t have children and lives alone in a great apartment in Brooklyn, NY. 

I admit, sometimes I dream of switching places. To eat at restaurants frequently. To have a well-paid professional career. To do whatever I feel like doing during my free time without others dictating the limitations. 

But my husband and I have been having conversations about the Buddhist principal: Want What You Have. 

Instead of “I have to take the kids to gymnastics.” It’s, “I get to take the kids to gymnastics.” It’s a simple word change but it’s latent with meaning: I’m lucky enough to have children. My children are fortunate to have a body that can perform gymnastics. I can afford a car to drive them and so much more. 

So the other night, after I cooked dinner and set it on the table to a critical crowd, “Ew! I hate chicken.” “Mom, if I eat that I’m going to choke.” Emmett looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, “But Lauren, you GET to cook them dinner.” 

We both burst into a fit of laughter. 

Because as grateful as we are for this life we’ve created together, as much as we do want what we have, we also recognize that it’s not always easy. It’s a constant juggling of his needs, my needs, their needs and our needs, as a family.

I allow myself to daydream of takeout, uninterrupted movies, and a wide-open schedule while simultaneously practicing mindfulness. Taking a moment to enjoy my surroundings- be it our front yard, the beach, or our rowdy kitchen table. I know these are “the days” and I GET to be their mom. I want what I have. 

But I’m still going to visit Harper in New York and practice mindfulness there, too. 

Forgiveness

It’s been 51 days since I’ve had a sip of alcohol. 

I’ve gone longer- four pregnancies to be exact. 

But this time is different because I’m doing it for myself. 

Alcoholism and addiction directly impacted my childhood. 

I’ve been in therapy since I was 15 years old and while I have always been aware of my vulnerability, I’ve denied facing the beast. 

Specifically, as a mother, I’ve sacrificed so much already for my children: my body, my decision to eliminate foods to continue nursing two of my babies with severe food allergies, my career as a teacher and sometimes, my sanity! 

Those things were short-term but at the time, my sacrifices felt enormous. So, I stubbornly clung to getting lost in alcohol as “my right”. My time to unwind. My time to escape reality and soften the edges of my frustration. 

I didn’t drink often- maybe once a week or every 10 days- but when I did, I couldn’t stop. One, became two became 10 and I would spend the next day hiding how sick and full of shame I was. 

Rinse. Repeat. For years. 

Until June 3rd when I woke sick again and hit rock bottom. 

I fell to my knees, crying for God to help me. To give me the strength to forgive myself and heal. 

I called a friend whose husband had shared his sober testimony a year earlier. She heard my sobs and truly saw me in my rawest moment. I felt her strength through that phone and knew I would be okay. 

I haven’t looked back. 

I feel free from the demon’s tightening grip. 

I feel proud and so hopeful for the time I have left to be fully present and sober for my husband and children. 

They deserve the best of me. 

And so do I. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Inside Out

Was I the only one with tears streaming down my face while watching Inside Out 2 in the theater this morning?

I’m not sure but sitting next to my four daughters, this movie really hit home- particularly in reference to our 12 year-old. 

Those who know me personally know how attentive I’ve always been of our daughters’ feelings. As a child who often felt misunderstood, I know how important it is for my girls’ feelings to be validated, seen and explored, instead of ignored. 

Spoiler alert: the climax of the movie occurs when the emotion Joy realizes that she can no longer simply dismiss undesirable memories and power forward through main character Riley’s puberty ignorant of the arrival of new emotions anxiety, embarrassment, ennui and envy. The lesson that struck deep in my heart was that there was no turning back to the way things were before. Instead, Joy recognizes her need to include the new emotions in order for Riley to feel secure with her true self. It’s a hard pill to swallow- that we can’t just keep acting like everything is fine and BE fine. That when we try to fight anxiety with denial, it only grows. We must learn to live with, around and through it. 

Watching my child struggle with growing up has broken my heart into tiny little pieces. I want to fix it for her; the embarrassment the rejection, the shame she feels. And like Joy, I can’t. I watch helplessly as she struggles, knowing that there’s no other way than through. 

And yet, the overwhelming emotion I left that theater with was pure and true gratitude. As hard and ugly as witnessing Aurora’s journey to adulthood is, it’s also such an incredible privilege. I have been given a gift- this opportunity to empower and encourage my child. I walked away with more empathy than ever for my daughter and the desire to hug her as long as she would allow. Forever and ever. Inside out. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Brave

I only knew to ask because I had already lost someone to suicide. 

Every story is different. 

But the common theme is, 

No one ever saw it coming. 

So, how do we change it? How do we help?

We courageously ask:

Have you thought of ending your life?

It’s a terrifying ask because we don’t want to hear the answer I heard:

“Yes. Last month.”

All I could think is Thank God I didn’t wait a minute longer to tell this person:

You’re not alone. 

We are not giving up on you, even when you give up on yourself. 

It takes bravery to ask and for them to answer. 

It’s June now, but May we all be so brave to ask.

Just ask.

Reinvent

It’s time to try again. 

It’s time to lay it on the line. 

Rejection is always possible. 

But worse is the what-if. 

So, we gather our courage

And we play our cards. 

The vulnerability is real. 

But so is life. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

The Moon and Me

When my confidence is shaken and the doubt creeps in,

I find my way to the beach.

It’s here, with my toes gripping the sand, the salty breeze on my face and the crashing waves drowning out the noise in my head that I am grounded.

Life continues to amaze.

Despite the unexpected twists and turns, the ocean and nearly full moon visible at dusk remain.

No matter what is happening inland or in my head, I can always escape here.

Just the moon and me.