We want to freeze time.
Even go back and relive with new eyes.
But there’s a guarantee;
And that is,
Nothing ever stays the same.
We evolve
Or fester.
So, what’s it going to be?
Guarantee
Self
Identity
Have you ever had an epiphany?
Perhaps you have but didn’t even realize that’s what it was.
It goes something like this:
You’ve been haunted by a sinking feeling, somewhere in the background. It’s a whisper; not enough to take action, but there it is.
Later, the whispers increase in volume and intensity- in other words, more evidence pointing to your initial feeling.
And finally, the epiphany- the moment you connect the dots and recognize the intended message.
Some epiphanies are wonderful- “So, this is love!”, “I’m ready/not ready to have a baby and I’m ok with that!”, etc.
And some are downright terrifying- “I want a divorce.”, “I need to change my career entirely.”, etc.
Recently, I had an epiphany and it all had to do with self-esteem or rather, my lack-thereof.
Experiencing an epiphany feels much like floating above your entire life and witnessing it from space.
Suddenly, everything is so clear.
Why hadn’t I realized it all along?
I measure my self-worth largely by the way I perceive others feel about me.
There it is.
My Epiphany.
The one I didn’t want to have but needed to have in order to take back control of my life.
To stop valuing myself based on my perceived self-worth to others and instead (gasp!) . . .
Be ME! Free and wholly me! Unapologetically! Unabashedly! Take me or leave me but still, here I will be.
Epiphany: Scary
My Identity: Free.
Snail Mail
In the age of virtual learning and online shopping it seems, already, so archaic.
Is that what also makes it so special?
Or is it just me?
The Written Word.
The feel of paper.
The emotion in handwriting.
I received a letter today, just for letter’s sake.
No holiday or event to celebrate.
Just a letter for letter’s sake.
And upon reading it, I felt like I had taken the freshest breath of air in a long time.
Normalcy.
Writing, just to write!
Touching base, just to check in.
We’re busy people and letters are effort.
But boy are they appreciated for that very reason.
Snail Mail.
Gone, but not forgotten.
Momma
She said,
“Lauren, you have to protect yourself from you.”
And Lawd, I didn’t want to know what she meant, but of course I knew.
She’s my mother, after all.
Why is she almost, always right?
But she was and she is.
I just didn’t want to know it.
But now I do.
What powerful words.
“Protect yourself from you.”
Amen Momma.
Verite Sans Peur
I entered an all-girls’ boarding school my sophomore year of high school.
My initial requirements to agree to attend were that it be co-ed without uniforms and yet I fell in love at-first-sight with an all-girls boarding school that required uniforms.
It changed my life.
Aside from my second grade year, I had attended private school throughout elementary and middle-school.
And then I entered my freshman year in public school.
Easy to predict, girl from small school gets swallowed by the wrong crowd- my grades, self-worth and confidence bottomed out. I went from an honors student to failing ninth grade English- the subject that would later become my college major and career.
I followed the popular crowd and resorted to stealing as a method of proving my bravery, a habit that eventually caught up with me at a local 7-11 convenience store. I used my privilege to avoid harsh punishments until I found haven at St. Timothy’s School.
The first day, I entered the “school store”, where you purchased your school supplies on the honor system- simply writing in a notebook on the cashier’s counter what you had taken.
As a thief, the system was abhorrent to me- how could they be so naive? But as I observed all that I could take without payment, I also envisioned a life I could lead with honesty.
I walked out of the store and started up the stairs, accidentally holding the pen I had used to write down my supplies. I stopped and wondered: it was an innocent enough mistake. Anyone could take a pen by accident. But then I realized why I was truly there- to change my life.
So I turned around and handed the pen to the “store lady” named “Dee” who looked me directly in the eyes and responded without hesitation, as if it had always been intended to be said to me, “Thank you, that is so honest of you.”
I was never the same.
That compliment of honorability would become the path I chose from thereon.
Verite Sans Peur.
Our school’s motto.
Truth Without Fear.
A motto I continue to live by in all aspects of my life, even when it is inconvenient.
So simple, and yet, so powerful.
If only we could all live our truths without fear.
Verite Sans Peur.
Meet Me Halfway
It’s that moment no one wants to admit.
The one where you know you wanted it more than them.
I could argue I spent my entire childhood in this state.
The one where I was the bastard child, and they were the full-blood.
The one where I was lucky he wanted to keep in touch with me.
Yes, in my child’s mind, I had to be worthy.
And it never left me.
I’ve lived a life proving myself worthy.
And you know what?
I’m tired.
I’m too tired.
I. am. worthy.
If you want me, then meet me halfway.
I’m worthy.
Catch and Release
Crumbling teeth.
That which has been haunting my dreams, lately.
A feeling so visceral, I wake up in disbelief that my tongue meets more than gum.
Later to learn these dreams are associated with the loss of control.
Ha! Tell me about it.
I endured a childhood in the backseat and, as a result, made a career of being the only driver.
Until I wasn’t.
Until it wasn’t my car and I watched at the mercy of others.
Desperate to regain control, I reach.
Options. Opportunities. Possibilities.
Catch and, in time, release.
Catch, Lauren.
Then, Release.
What About You?
I am someone who likes to record -through photographs, with words.
Sometimes I wonder if that means I am obsessed with looking back but then I disregard that notion because there is so much I look forward to!
I’m curious.
What do you do?
Do you record, through photographs, albums, diaries?
If not, is it for a reason or do you wish you would?
Tell me, what about you?
Character Flaw
Oh, my!
The labels.
The reasons.
The excuses why we aren’t already who we aren’t meant to be.
What does it take?
Truly.
What is it going to take?
To be true. To be real about who. we. are?
When will our “character flaw” stop becoming our excuse?
When will our excuse stop being our character flaw?
Reach
I was screaming.
Lying on the dance studio floor, lights out, next to a dozen other students, screaming as loud as my lungs would allow for my lost mother, father, sister and brother.
It was my sophomore year of high school and my best friend Harper had talked me into my first-ever audition for the Fall dramatic play, “I Never Saw Another Butterfly”, based on a little girl’s experience at the concentration camp in Terezin. To the surprise of many, and yet mostly myself, I landed the lead role: Raja Englanderova.
It became a defining moment in my life.
Ever since I can remember, I’ve had a hypersensitive heart.
Long ago, when it rained, I used to tape plastic containers over the top of the ant hills that formed along the walkway to our house. I didn’t want them to drown.
And when another experienced a loss, it felt like my own. I mourned, as if I had known them well, too.
I felt deeply but was mocked, shamed and criticized for it.
They thought I wanted attention, when all I ever really wanted was to lend my oversized heart.
To reach.
I ended up leading two more plays in high school and when it came time to graduate, I asked my drama teacher to write me a parting note.
And what he said has never left me:
“Give to the world your deeply felt heart.”
Well, World, here it is!
New Leaf Parenting 