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.
My car broke down.
My dusty, musty, rusty ole’ van that has seen 10 years of abuse by children.
Her rugs are crusted with smashed applesauce.
Dead bugs lie unreachable on the dashboard but close enough to the windshield that I’ve had the privilege of watching them decay for years.
And let’s not forget that my youngest proudly carved the first four letters of her name into the side of it at the ripe age of four.
When faced with the choice of dumping five grand into a vehicle on her final wheels or starting anew, we felt torn.
Ultimately, finances forced our hand, so to the repair shop our trusty van went, and in our driveway, a brand new loaner car, while we waited.
So. Many. Buttons.
The girls had to push them all. Their eyes twinkled with excitement.
And, I admit. It was fun while it lasted.
The new car smell (similar to the allure of a new puppy!). The magnetic phone charger (game changer).
But I was annoyed when my car told on my speed so that my children called me out. I needed my speedometer back.
And I didn’t need my car to lower my side mirror to see the road when I reversed, thank you very much.
I lived in a city and can parallel park in my sleep.
Days went by and as the newness wore off, I realized I missed the familiarity of my old van.
In the age of “House Hunters” in which we are encouraged to update to keep up with the Joneses, I found myself, instead, revering all that I already have.
I walked into rooms in my house that I’d previously seen through a critical eye and I smiled. Grateful for the memories made in each.
I relaxed.
No need to trade in.
No need to keep up.
Time to maintain.
Seek, don’t settle.
That’s pretty much it.
“Just pick up fast food!”
My husband was out of town.
Gosh, if only it were that easy.
I feel like I’ve spent adulthood explaining this notion of “privilege” without realizing I’ve even done so.
Fast food?
That’s privilege, at least for my family.
We have a child with severe food allergies so “fast food” is not an option.
Instead, we have to plan painstakingly ahead.
“You were meant to be her mother.”
Was I, really?
What did I do in my past life to deserve this honor?
That’s what I would like to know.
It’s not her fault and it’s not mine either, or maybe it is- I don’t even know anymore.
What I DO know is that giving grace to any and everyone is the very best thing we can ever do.
Because, how otherwise, could we ever truly know their story?
We cannot.
So, we give grace.
Always, we give grace.
It’s been a lifetime of regret
For a crime I never committed.
I was born.
The illegitimate of a love affair.
Forever, a child, apologizing for my existence.
I’m so sorry.
And yet, Here I Am.
You’ve welcomed and accepted me,
Flaws, painful memories and all.
I’m so sorry.
I was born.
It’s been a lifetime.
But, here I am.
Here I am.
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.
There’s a reason the stewardess instructs you to put on your own oxygen mask before your child’s.
You are no good to anyone when you’re passed out.
So, today, when I told my therapist that my doctor explained I was anemic at my latest physical, she chuckled, “Well, that’s telling, isn’t it?”
As a universal donor, I’ve been donating roughly every 8 weeks until recently, when I was turned away for low iron.
There’s always a shortage and since I have the blood everyone needs, I always say yes.
But the theme of “taking care of myself” has been commonly discussed during therapy so it came as no surprise to my therapist to learn I had once again, run my well dry.
It’s all about setting healthy boundaries.
Pouring into my cup first, before sharing with others.
“I can write a letter, if you need.” My doctor offered.
I laughed, “No, I’m a big girl. I can tell them No.”
A hard word for me to ever say.
There’s always a need.
But I want to be here for the long haul, not just the present emergency.
So, I set boundaries.
I say, “No.”
I take care of myself.
And in the end, that’s my greatest gift to others.
Camille Vaughan Photography
“Are you going to hide them?” My friend asked.
Well, shit.
That hadn’t even occurred to me.
Top of the closet? Under the bed?
Um, actually, no.
I have nothing to hide.
The bottom drawer of my bedside table is full of awesome adult toys and if one or more of my four daughters has the audacity to peek, well then. . . . be careful of what you search for.
“That’s private.” I explained to my daughter.
Case closed.
But much like when my eldest was no longer content with the minimal basics of procreation, I will never choose to keep my children in the dark.
We are a home that uses correct terminology.
Penis. Vagina. Breasts.
NOT- wee-wee, hoo-ha, or boobies.
There’s nothing shameful about our anatomy.
And the sooner we embrace that, the sooner we set ourselves free.
Fun fact:
After teaching elementary school, I was a Pure Romance Consultant for four years.
My company’s motto was: Empower, Educate, Entertain.
And I thrived.
I walked into a room full of women and quickly thawed the tension with humor.
I enlightened them with facts I had learned from professors at conferences at Indiana University, the leader in Sexual Health.
And then I empowered them to own their bodies.
To ask me questions when we were just one-on-one
And release their fear and shame.
I won’t stop now.
My daughters will be well-informed.
Empowered. Educated. Entertained (later).
Nothing to hide.
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
Hello 40th year.
I have been waiting so impatiently for you.
And already, you are not disappointing my anticipation.
I’ve never understood the desire to reverse the clock (my knees may disagree).
Instead, I am so thankful for the time you’ve provided to figure out:
Who I am becoming.
[Exhale.]
I feel like I can finally breathe.
As I let my past self go
And inhale my future.
Resolution:
Let go of what was and look forward to what is to come.
Cheers to a new year!
Camille Vaughan Photography
New Leaf Parenting 