Grief

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

The First Step

Have you ever had moments in your life when you feel like time stops?

It’s remarkable. 

It happened once when I was eleven.

And it happened again today when I read a line from an advice column:

“Children of alcoholics are often on high alert trying to anticipate other people’s feelings, so they can try to head off problems or incidents before they become overwhelming.”

The camera of my life came into focus. 

The dots connected. 

And for a moment, time stopped

As my mind rewinded

To the friendships I had ruined by suffocating them with my need to control

And the relationships I had endured because I expected no better.  

My desperate need for security. 

My present-day Type A personality. 

I am a child of an alcoholic. 

And it shows, still today. 

It’s not an excuse. 

But it does help to explain how I came to be. 

And for me, that’s the first step.

Time starts again.

New Leaf Parenting.

Every Day is a Fresh Start.

Original Article: https://www.pilotonline.com/advice/ct-aud-ask-amy-20221215-mgo2iskwwfehneze7tiqqapi6y-story.html

Sisterhood

Let me tell you about this fragile relationship. 

It’s called Sisterhood. 

And in this house, it’s on Level 4. 

Competition.  Jealousy.  Friendship. Equality. 

The themes of this family.

When I say it’s all gravy one minute and WWIII the next, I mean it.  

That’s how fast things can change, in a house full of sisters. 

Tonight, a battle erupted over who gets to watch a show with mommy. 

Let’s be clear, people:  

I watch a total of 2- that is T-W-O- shows a week. 

They are Survivor and The Amazing Race. 

That is 100% completely it.  My total list. 

My husband sits down nightly and watches PTI on ESPN, a show about North Carolina fishing, Bob Ross painting, and bluegrass music without issue. 

As soon as I attempt to sit down, however, whether on the couch or toilet, I apparently have invited my audience to request things of me (I am, shockingly, sitting down, after all).  

So, I’ve given up!   I just don’t even bother trying to watch television because it’s too disappointing to try and claim that time. 

I’d rather hide in my bed and read or stay up way too late to write.  

Pre-children, I watched these two shows alone but since our second daughter, Harper,  has always been our night-owl, I started watching them with her a few years ago and, in addition to me reading Harry Potter aloud to her, it’s become “our thing”.  

It’s never really been an issue because my eldest, Aurora, has always been an early-to-bed, early-to-rise child but she’s growing and changing into a tween and tonight, she wanted to stay and watch. 

Cue WWIII.  

Harper wanted Aurora to leave but Aurora, not causing an issue, had every right to be there. 

I found myself in the midst of a mommy battle and quickly realized, this was a turning point.  

I could defend Harper, my second daughter whom I’ve always protected- perpetually considering her feeling inferior to her big sister.  They are only twenty months apart and her big sister is an awesome human.  It’s tough shoes to fill! 

Or I could stand by my eldest, who can’t help that she came first or that I chose to have three more children.

Ultimately, I stood my ground and my husband backed me up.

I am a mother of FOUR.  Not one. 

My time is shared as equally as possible (not equal at the same time, equal over time!).

Harper’s argument was that Survivor was “our thing”. 

I explained that before her, it was “mine”.  

But I chose to share it with her. 

And now, I choose to share it with her sister, too.  

At one point, Aurora apologized (for even trying) and attempted to give up. 

No.

We do not apologize for existing.  

As the illegitimate child of a love affair, this hits particularly hard for me. 

We do not apologize for existing. 

She had every right to be there as her little sister, whose feelings have always been considered.

All’s well that ends well. 

And that’s how things wrapped up tonight. 

Harper was put in her place.  

Desperate as she is to claim her spot, she learned that she is part of a family and no more important than each piece of the puzzle. 

Aurora learned that I would defend her.  When she snuck a note under Harper’s door stating, ‘I’m sorry”, I returned it, explaining that:

We do not apologize for existing. 

I hugged Harper, as I tucked her in, and reminded her that she is loved. 

I hugged Aurora, as I tucked her in, and reminded her the same. 

It’s called Sisterhood. 

It’s a fragile relationship. 

Camille Vaughan Photography

Growing Pains

“Mommy, it hurts.”  

I wish I could tell her that it stops. 

But it never does. 

Instead, they migrate from the bones to the heart.

From the physical to the emotional. 

These growing pains. 

Just when we think we’re done . . . 

There they are. 

To remind us that we aren’t yet done. 

Growing, that is. 

And when you think of it that way, it makes sense. 

Perhaps instead of dreading 

We should welcome the pains.  

Peel back that layer

And discover what comes next . . .   

Camille Vaughan Photography

Written while listening to Cover Bombs (Odesza Remix) by Nomadic Firs

Change

I can feel it in the air. 

Can you?

Change is a-coming. 

Tonight, one of my daughters wondered aloud how it could be so dark when it was “only 7 o’clock.”  

It seems like yesterday that it was light at nine.  

And yet, here we are. 

The constant we can always rely on: 

Change. 

Just as we adjust. 

As soon as we settle in. 

Change comes in like a thief and reminds us that if there were ever a thing to depend on it was her all along. 

Change. 

I can feel it in the air. 

Can you?

Camille Vaughan Photography

The Paver

Over the years, quite a few friends, especially those moving, have asked me how I’ve managed to make new friends.

The answers always results in a chuckle and long-winded story of me racing on my bike, knocking on doors, or running down full-term pregnant women to find a connection.

Any connection.

I’ve since realized my spider-webbed childhood is to thank.

4 half-sisters, 1 half-brother, 1 step-sister and 1 step-brother will do that to you.

Fit in.

Make peace.

Be the connection.

Pave the way.

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Camille Vaughan Photography