Things I Learned at Camp Part 1: Talking and Such

As I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I’m not necessarily good at communicating and verbalization and peopling. So seeing a week of camp with lots of humans inch closer every minute sorta scared me to no end. For about three weeks. My apologies to anyone who tried to talk to my stressed out self. I was grumpy, sad, mopey, tired, sassy, and flat out not paying attention some of the time.
However, after I got there…I was still terrible. Let’s be honest. I was still horrible and nervous and about as sociable as the napkin my skin resembles.

I attempted a few conversations while playing basketball partially so I had a distraction, partially so I didn’t have to fool with eye contact, and partially because that’s what I was doing when I started talking. It didn’t end too terribly and everyone involved in the conversation survived.

I was slowly becoming more okay with continuing conversations others initiated to the point that when people came up to me and started talking, I didn’t freeze and try to turn invisible. And yes, I used to try to turn invisible. I used to cringe if I saw someone walking in my direction who might be a potential converser. Heck, it was so bad that I used to get horribly nervous when people looked at me.

Yeah. Not my shining moments.
The good news, I suppose, is that since I’ve gotten home from camp, I’ve become somewhat of an extroverted goober. For instance, I’m still dancing. I’ve started being the first one to talk to people and I’m not shy and shaky when I speak. I just say it like it is and plow ahead at full speed. I’ve started halfway singing random songs as I walk.

As I’ve been thinking about this tonight, I keep debating with myself whether or not this is actually normal for most people for the most part or not. So far all I’ve got is the fact that everyone has a different comfort zone with different limits and I guess as long as I’m not hindering anyone else, I should just be okay with my zone and know my limits. Although pushing the boundaries can be a very good thing, sometimes there are things about ourselves that we just need to embrace. Maybe becoming your idea of perfection isn’t the right thing to chase.

Like I said, these are just thoughts. I’m not really sure how accurate they are.
As for me, having my boundaries pushed was fantastic even though I pushed back quite a bit every so often. Overall, I think it did me some good. I made quite a few more friends than I thought I would.

Most everyone who knew I went to camp asked me these questions.

1: How was camp?
2: Did you have fun?
3: Are you going back?
Were you talking to me last month, the answers would be “Good, yep, and yep.”

Now however, I can easily spill my guts about all three. So for those of you who haven’t asked or who didn’t receive a full answer for whatever reason, here you go.

1: How was camp? “Camp” was somewhat of a fictitious concept to me. It was always in books and there were very few people that I knew who went to camp. Previously, I had been to Lakeshore as a camper only once and that was for a weekend retreat. I’m pretty sure we left early too… So I wasn’t exactly the expert. And I had never counseled. Ever. Like — at all. No experience whatsoever. However, I had one single advantage. I have gone to Lakeshore a hundred million bajillion times as a PK so I know the place like the back of my hand. I could navigate it in the dark. And did. So that was definitely handy.

Okay, fine, I had another slight advantage. I knew some of the people who work around there and a few of the counselors. I don’t know about anyone else, but for me, that means a world and a half. More on that later.
So why was camp so good? Well, everyone stayed alive and in good health from what I could tell while we were there. The worst thing I had to take care of with a camper was choking/coughing and lotion sunscreen application. Translation: it was so much easier than I ever could have imagined in the camper care department. Very little stress when it came to caring for the campers and showing them love.
The stress came when I had to make sure I had eyes on all of my campers. Looking back, it doesn’t seem like it could have possibly been as stressful as I remember it being. But it totally was. Some might say it’s because I cared about them too much. Honestly, I’d love for that to be the reason. And it partially is, I suppose. But the main reason is sadly much more selfish.

I personally believe that the main reason I was stressed for a good portion of the week is purely because I was so deeply and petrifyingly afraid of failing. I was afraid of messing up. Part of me didn’t want to fail because it would mean messing up in front of all of those people. Part of me didn’t want to fail the campers. Part of me didn’t want to mess up so badly that I wasn’t able to come back. I worried myself to the breaking point about four times although admittedly, the first time was just the lack of social events kicking in. There were so many people that my brain shut down. I didn’t know what to do and I was afraid of making a fool of myself in front of a ton of people I was gonna have to spend a week with.

Thankfully, I found a little corner outside where I could breathe, away from all of the humans. I was the new kid. Again. But it’s been three years and I was so used to sorta kinda fitting in that I wasn’t in “friend-making” mode. I was in “this-is-my-bubble-and-there-are-social-people-over-there” mode. So that probably didn’t help much.

What really helped, more than anything else that I could’ve possibly had, is that I had (and made) friends who were there to help me and support me.

Thursday night was by far the hardest. All of my worries and fears for the week came true. I felt failure coursing through my veins. I had failed right there after all of my hard work to succeed. That meant that my new goal was to keep it together and focus. And that was so hard. I couldn’t do it. My brain went fuzzy. I stepped away and focused on my breathing. I went back to the doorway to catch the last of the announcements and try to gather what I had missed. The service ended shortly after I reached the doorway and I lost it. I’m gonna just say it how it is. I broke under the stress. I was so disappointed in myself for failing. I didn’t know what to do. However, I have some pretty epic friends and no less than four people came up and checked in with me and did their best to help me out. Had they not spoken to me and given me the right words at the right time (some serious and some that made me chuckle) I don’t know what I would’ve done. Thinking clearly was completely out of the question at that point and I probably would’ve ended up making things worse somehow.
Thankfully, I learned a valuable lesson that night. I learned that sometimes you can help more by shutting up than talking. Sure, I already knew that, but I also learned that knowing when is key. I also found out when to shut up the hard way. But now I know and I’m sure that’ll come in handy soon enough.

2: Did I have fun? YES. Absolutely. More fun than I’ve had in ages. Why? Because I quit being me and started being me. And no, I won’t explain that.
I danced most of the time I was there, I was able to make some of the campers laugh, and I was able to just be a kid to some extent. I was able to just have fun while I was there. I learned that maybe I don’t have to worry quite as much as I did, but I also learned that I have to stay on my toes. Thankfully, my dad trained me to stay on my toes at a young age.

I think it’s very important to remember that I’m still a kid. And honestly, I forget that quite a lot. And I might have the bad habit of waving people off when they try to remind me. My apologies. I’m working on it now. Being a kid is kind of a crucial part of becoming an adult. Making mistakes while you can do so without as much judgment, learning how to have fun as you get older, trying new things, learning how things work and why, and of course, learning how to be yourself comfortably.

So yes, I had fun. Partially because I was learning. Shh, don’t tell. 😉

3: Will I be going back? Well, I might have developed a soft spot for these campers on something like the first day I met them. And I kinda might’ve promised a few of them that I was coming back. So I kinda might be, yeah. Also, I might be trying to formulate a plan to make Camp Joy last for six months or so. You never know.

In all seriousness,I fell in love with camp and the campers and my job and the people helping me out so I kinda have to go back. It’s not a chore and it’s not really even a job. It’s more like a humongous family that I want to take care of. I can’t imagine not going back.
So those are the top three questions, answered. And as I’m writing this, I’m also putting together pieces a bit late and connecting the dots. Here are a few of my “duh realizations.”
1: If you take the time to make friends, it ends up being worth it.
2: If you never talk, no one will ever hear you. (That can be good or bad.)
3: If you get shoved into a situation, stressing doesn’t really help as much as you feel like it does. Just embrace the situation and go with the flow.

I think that’s quite enough for part one. I won’t give an expected date for part two just because if I do, I’ll miss it and end up being late. But I suppose I can say it’ll be “coming soon” to a device near you.
Feedback is much appreciated and enjoyed immensely.
Branch out, try new things, and just have fun.
I shall return! Later.
xx becca