Mental Health

Protect

Posted on by Lauren

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

Inside Out

Posted on by Lauren

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

Prevent

Posted on by Lauren

I remember. 

I wish I could but I never will forget the supreme loneliness I felt as a child. 

And I suppose that is why, as an adult, I feel so committed to seeing children.

Physical presence is not enough. 

Neither is saying “I care.” 

It’s action. 

Before I took the pills that landed me in the hospital, before I stood on the edge of the balcony threatening to jump, I cut myself as a way to ease the pain. 

I was 12 years old. 

So, when my daughter exhibits signs of distress, 

I take her seriously. 

When minimal interventions (intentional time together, changes to routine, etc.) fail to work, I take action: therapy, medication. 

Prevention is not easy

But it sure is preferred to regret. 

Gone

Posted on by Lauren

I was 21 when he broke my jaw. 

And honestly, I’d been waiting for it as a reason to leave. 

Never mind the years of emotional abuse. 

A broken jaw was a concrete, valid excuse to leave. 

I packed my bags and got a new apartment assigned, while he was in class.

The police arrived as he tore my belongings from my car. 

All I’d ever wanted was for someone to promise me forever.

But I quickly realized the commitment wasn’t worth the cost. 

Today, I visited the dentist for another cavity on the other side of my mouth. 

The one I’ve learned to chew on, the last twenty years. 

Gone, but not forgotten. 

Gone, but never the same. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Nothingness

Posted on by Lauren

“Sit down, it’s Sunday.” My husband encouraged. 

“But if I do,” I explained “things won’t get done.”

“There’s always something to do.” 

I looked around at the smudges on the walls I’d been meaning to scrub, the tiny toys under the living room furniture and that dead moth that’s been trapped inside our family picture frame for literal years. 

I’d changed five sets of sheets, scrubbed two bathrooms and vacuumed but the list never ends.

One of my friends shared a photo of her rewriting worn recipe cards and I remarked, “How do you find the time?” She suggested that perhaps it was the two less kids.  

Maybe so. 

Or maybe I just need to slow down. 

Life in perpetual motion is never dull but also exhausting. 

Where’s the time to appreciate the exquisiteness of nothingness?

So I sat and ate my new box of girl scout cookies wondering all-the-while if that moth would fully decompose before I took the time to remove it. 

Maybe so. 

Clearly, I have more important nothingness to do. 

I captured this man soaking up the sunshine on my fortieth birthday trip to Savannah, GA. Perhaps I could learn a thing or two from him!

Far

Posted on by Lauren

I spent the better part of my first forty years desperate for others to understand how far I’ve come from where I started. 

Surely, they’d respect and understand me more?

But now I know, we all have stories, untold. 

And it’s best to approach all with the grace we’ve always wished upon ourselves. 

Hold my hand. 

Lean in. 

We’ve come so far. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Helpers

Posted on by Lauren

The teacher asked us to take notes.

I had no idea what she meant by that. 

Pauli saw the panic. 

She met me where I was. 

She calmed me down and step-by-step, taught me how.

I will never, ever forget her kindness. 

“Look for the helpers.”  Mr. Rogers said. 

I did. 

And I still am.  

In fact, I’ve become one. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Gray

Posted on by Lauren

I used to feel so uncomfortable 

With Gray. 

Black and White were concrete, comforting. 

But Gray, blurred the lines. 

And I sought certainty.  

Anyone with children will explain how humbling it is to feel powerless

Be it the pregnancy, the birth, the unexpected complications or simply the milestones

All of a sudden, you are no longer in control. 

I spent a long time fighting the current

But started to enjoy the ride once I let it lead.

And that’s my approach to life these days. 

There’s no need to know what comes next; 

Instead, let’s wait and see. 

Destination unknown. 

Gray. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Grief

Posted on by Lauren

She called it what it is:  

Grief. 

I had never associated that word with what I had been feeling but it all clicked into place. 

Grief can be due to a loss of any kind: a loved one, job, marriage, friendship or a major life change.

What I had been feeling was grief!

I described how desperate I had been to make sense of it all and store it neatly in its box. 

I’m a writer:  I like a good ending.  

And this . . . this just carried on.

I described it as spilled slime.  

Here I was, frantically trying to return the contents to its original container and no matter how hard I tried, it lingered.  

Grief has no blueprint, no timeline.

It’s messy and ugly and nonsensical.

It does not wield to your plans or box. 

It takes its time and you are merely a companion to it.  

Many try to escape its grasp- be it denial, alcohol or busyness.  

Others drown in it. 

And then there’s me- failing to recognize it for what it is. 

Well, hello grief. 

I relinquish my need to control.

I let you take your time. 

I identify you. 

I respect your process. 

And I walk with you 

Until you move along.  

 It is what it is. 

Grief. 

Camille Vaughan Photography