An outsider.  A wannabe.  A poser.  Me, ages 8-15.  A tattletale.  A teacher’s pet.  A follower.

They called me “mosquito bites” for my budding breasts and wrote L.D. on my shoes before I even knew what “learning disabled” meant.

I befriended some of the bullies in later years and they asked why I always brought up the past- I didn’t have an answer then but now I know.  While my past does not define me today, it shaped the person I have become: an includer.

It’s understandable why someone might rather forget the painful things that happened to them in the past; however, it is by working through these memories, we are better able to understand the lessons they have taught us.  If we focus solely on our anger, regret, or sadness, we miss the phoenix that rose from the ashes- we fail to recognize ourselves as survivors with the ability to overcome and become better because of it.

But not all of us do- it is only by conscious choice.  By remembering.  By observing our behaviors since.  How did those things affect the way we speak and act now, even subconsciously?

I didn’t have an answer for the person who teased me, then, but I have an answer now.

I bring up those painful memories because I realize that the loneliness I felt when I was in middle school is something I never want anyone else to ever feel.  I relive the tears spilled in an effort to empathize with the blackest sheep in the room.  I find some way to welcome them- some common ground.  I want them to know they are not ignored, they are noticed and they matter.  They are important to someone.

Five years out of teaching, I can now say I think that is why my students loved me.   Because I loved them.  I met them where they were and I celebrated them for who they were and wanted to become, regardless of how vastly it differed from me.

And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if it hadn’t been for my miserable formative years.

I am no longer an outsider.

I am an includer.

Confused.  Devastated.  Lost.  Like a family dog, unexpectedly dropped off on the side of the road, I have felt abandoned.  Have you?

Miscommunications, misunderstandings or obstacles too difficult to overcome for the other party to continue a relationship- all circumstances that lead to a burned bridge.

It’s tragic.  It leaves you grasping for answers.

In an effort to empathize with the other person, I work hard to understand it from their point-of-view.  Why did they feel the need to cut ties?  What responsibility do I have in their decision?

Sometimes I am able to find fault in myself and other times I am left utterly perplexed and sad.

Which begs the question- what comes next?  What do we do with our abandonment?

We can wallow, we can point fingers, we can get angry, we can get back.  Or . . . we can lick our wounds and move on.

Our hearts are broken- the wound so fresh, so deep it seems unimaginable that it could ever heal.

But we patch it by surrounding ourselves with those who do love us.  Those who do support us.  We ask God for forgiveness and we wish those who abandoned us all the best.  We seek grace.

We take time.  We guard our hearts a little more.  For a time, we feel fragile but eventually, we fortify it with love- from others and for others.

I am hurting.  Deeply.

I will take time to mourn this loss.

And then I will look to you, my friends, my family, my supporters, to help me heal with your love, laughter and your openness to let me do the same for you.

To anyone that is hurting too:

I am holding your hand.  You are loved. You are supported.  You matter.

Camille Vaughan Photography

Like every good book, every great show, and every epic movie, we seek the DRAMA and resolution.  Nobody wants to read or watch a flat plot-line, which begs the question . . . can you find comfort in the calm?

Lately, on a weekly basis, I say to my husband (around dinner time), “There are just so many of them!”  I’m referring to my helpless children.  They can’t dress themselves, squeeze ketchup, or pour their own drink without help.  In my mind, I can’t wait for them to be able to do for themselves.  But as that time draws closer for my oldest, I recognize the empty feeling I will have, as a result.  Am I ready for that?

We are natural problem solvers- some of us better than others.  Some of us thrive on the drama – others run away as fast as we can.  But all of us have an innate desire to feel wanted, accepted, needed.  Partners, children, pets- they all fill that void.

When things are busy and tough, we feel exhausted and yet . . .useful.

When things are gravy we initially feel rested and peaceful and then . . . unsettled?

Why is that?  Isn’t this what we’ve been working towards?

An Age.

A status.

A promotion.

A retirement.

Why can we not find peace within the calm?

Every good story has a climax and a resolution.

Each of us has a different story, some more dramatic than others.

And if you look hard enough, we’ve all had our share of drama.  So the real quest becomes, finding the peace, the joy and the comfort in the calm after the storm.

I’ve been a stay-at-home-mom for five-years and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I’m  scared shitless once the youngest goes to school, goes to college, gets married, has her own babies.

But the reality is, deep down, we are always hoping for a happy ending- EVEN IF, it doesn’t turn out as expected.  At the very least, we want a lesson, and at most, our dreams come true.

So when we have it in our grasp- our great relationship, our healthy family, our fabulous co-workers or dream job- we owe it to ourselves to appreciate the moment.  The Calm.

Is it your weight?  Is it the job you spent a fortune getting a degree(s) in but that causes you a lifetime of stress and sleepless nights?  Is it an addiction of alcohol, nicotine, drugs, shopping, or starbucks?  Infidelity?  Credit card debt?  Hoarding?  A lie?  The wrong relationship- not necessarily a bad one but one that you know deep-down is not the right one for you for whatever reason?  Is it a conversation you’ve been avoiding with a relative, spouse or friend?  Is it regret?

Denial.  You don’t want to read further because you don’t feel ready to face the truth and reading about denial might help you recognize that which you are avoiding.  It makes your heart race.  It makes you sweat.  It might make you cry.  It’s too overwhelming.  It’s too big to tackle.  You aren’t ready and you aren’t sure when or if you ever will be.

Here’s the thing, though; admitting it is actually one of the hardest steps so once you’ve conquered that, you’re already on your way. Continue reading →