Camp Feelings

I’m at a seminar, for leadership.

Here, kids are like me: perfectionists, great students, excelling, afraid of not being enough.

Everyday, we scream our heads off to a cheer, O-U-T-S-T-A-N-D-I-N-G.

We do professional development, and workshops and seminars, giving us opportunities unending.

They instill in us this confidence that we can change the world, if not us, then who, that we are here because we have potential.

It feels like we are unstoppable, like the world really is at our fingertips.

I’m at home, unpacking.

The world seemed so picturesque, like it was really meant for us, like we really had control.

But at home, I remember, I’m not invincible. I’m just 16.

Suddenly, the encouragement feels like pressure. I need to do more, I need to be perfect, I need to fix the world.

I am not living to my potential, I’m wasting my life, I’m broken.

I’m at camp, enjoying time with my friends, where responsibilities feel nonexistent.

We aren’t allowed to have technology, and we stay on one campus, so it feels like the world pauses.

We run through the field of mud, get wetted by a fire hose from the creek, and eat the gooey chocolate chip cookies with no limit.

Every evening, we have service, we sing out hearts out to worship songs I know like the back of my hand, we talk about God’s love for us, that life is hard, but God can help us.

They say that they don’t know what we are going back home to, but to try to remember this feeling, the feeling of camp.

I’m at home, laying in bed.

My to-do list is sitting on my nightstand next to me, but I have no energy.

I’m done. But I shouldn’t be. It’s summer. I should be out, living, enjoying the nights, staying out late and eating s’mores, ice cream, catching fireflies.

My to-do list consists half of summer work. Math, to read my books, psych. Then, half of daily necessities, wash my hair, wash my water bottle, make sure I brush my teeth at night, because yes, I am so done, I need to cross it off of a to-do list to make it feel worthy.

I go to the pool nearly daily. That should be fun, right? Then why am I not feeling that all the time? Why am I not satisfied? Why am I crying myself to sleep nightly?

At camp, the adrenaline makes me unable to sleep. We had our nighttime activities, a block party or dodgeball tournament, went back for showers and small group. Then, instead of all going to bed, we somehow crammed 13 people into someone’s bottom bunk, then all ran to our counselor’s bunk and hid there while she brushed her teeth.

But when we finally did sleep, the darkness didn’t consume me. It’s as if it didn’t come to camp with me.

Instead, I’m reminiscing on the day, how the mud felt on my bare feet, the thrill of the zip-line, the way the cookies fell apart while I ate them, the message at service.

My friends are next to me, and though we only see each other annually, we somehow share the deepest moments together, while the darkness somehow leaves our heads and transfers to the night sky.

At home, I’m alone. 

My summer work is next to me, silently screaming that it needs to be done. But it hurts to do.

My phone is telling me about the news, the world, people in my life trying to contact me, so I’m consumed.

All the mental problems that seemed to go away at camp, they all come back, flooding in like a tsunami.

I need to do everything. Start a nonprofit? Play softball. Volunteer. Do my school work. Find a job. Prepare for next year. Sing at church. Be the best.

Dread consumes me about the future. I won’t be able to do it all. But I have before. I have to again.

When I’m at camp, I’m a kid again. 

I can run through a field of mud and paint my face orange, because they encourage us to do that. Yes, I’ll be dirty, but I can wash it off.

I dunk myself into the freezing cold creek. Yeah, I’ll be wet for a few hours, but who really cares?

This time, there is no one telling me no. This is time for living.

With darkness, comes s’more, camp fires, small group, parties, friends, moments of bonding, and reflecting on the hope shared at the sermon.

At home, with the darkness, there comes more darkness. More pressure, more panic.

352 days until camp. 352 days until 5 days of pure freedom and happiness.