Puberty

See

Posted on by Lauren

“Want me to come in with you?” I asked, reassuringly. 

A small smile crept into the corner of her mouth. 

“No, mom. I got it.”

I watched from the driver’s seat as she walked into the store, turning one last time to look at me.

I settled into my seat, head against the headrest and smiled. 

This was it. My first baby is growing up, reassuring me along the way that I’ve done my job. I’ve walked beside her, leading by example, showing her the ropes of life. 

And now, she’s confident enough to take a stab at it on her own, knowing full-well I’m nearby if needed. 

There’s no one at the counter.

There never is. Just find someone who works there and ask them.

I can’t find anyone. Can you come in? . . .wait, nvm. 

She walked back through those double doors, holding the bag up to prove her mission had been successful. 

“See?” She said, climbing back into the passenger’s seat. 

Yes, my darling. 

I see you. 

And I couldn’t be prouder. 

Anchor

Posted on by Lauren

When I tell you I’m having a real time with one of my daughters, I mean I am having a real time. 

I liken the reward of raising her to pouring water into a sieve. No matter how much you give, it feels as if nothing is retained. 

And thanks to the file I retrieved when cleaning out my dad’s condo, containing every one of my report cards and conference sheets, I discovered just how very similar this daughter is to me, when I was her age. 

Now I truly understand just how hard I was to parent (sorry, mom). 

There are so many days I feel as if I have nothing left to give while simultaneously feeling guilty for feeling this way about my own child. 

Therapy helps (for both of us). So do frequent breaks to refuel my empty tank.

But what to tell myself when I feel hopeless? When it seems nothing is changed, nothing learned? 

What is my role?

My steadfast presence. 

That I stay. Even when it is hard. Especially when it’s ugly. 

That although I seemingly get very little from this current relationship, I remain an anchor for her to hold onto. 

That’s it. 

I may not see great change now or ever but I remain. 

And that’s enough. 

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