What a difference a year makes

What a difference a year, not to mention lots of meds and therapy, makes (warning - this is a long and windy post)

One week ago, my 11 year old and I traveled up to the summer camp where I have worked for five summers.

I first came to this place in the mountains of North Carolina the summer of 2009, with my husband and girls who were then 2 and 4 years old. It was an amazing experience. I worked extremely hard in crazy conditions with many wonderful people and absolutely loved that my daughters were outside the entire summer being watched over and loved by so many people (they were pretty much the camp mascots that summer). On the flip side I was running the art program with only the help of a few teenagers, who did not share my insane work ethic, and I sandwiched that summer with only a weekend on either side of my “real” job of being an art teacher. Oh yeah, and I was in the midst of changing schools from working in a trailer with no running water to starting a brand new school a few miles away. And I was on the leadership team for the new school. To say life was crazy busy then would be accurate. At the time I would never have realized that this kind of schedule was how I was running my life to avoid down time and thinking - keeping me from having to address both my depression and anxiety.

The following couple of years I took a job with one of the amazing people I had met in the summer of 2009 when she moved to a new job as director of a day camp not far from my home in Atlanta. That worked wonderfully for my summers off from school, keeping me busy and keeping my kids in summer camp schedules and fun activities. And then my oldest turned 8 and we knew it was time for her to attend sleepaway camp, a venture that I viewed as essential to at least try for my girls.

As a former camper and counselor I have seen and experienced the growth and development that comes from sleepaway camps with all the different avenues for independence and teamwork that it offers. The friendships I made and the things I learned, as well as the positive impact the change of scenery had on my life (I remember my 9 years at camp as some of the happiest times) made camp a priority for me as a parent.

Finances being tight, and not inconsequentially my love of the camp atmosphere, I contacted the camp to see if I could find a way to get a job there to offset the cost of her attendance. I spent the next three years with a part time job as the camp photographer. Initially I was beyond excited. And despite the following description of the past few summers I kept doing this because of my girls who are now both attending the camp, and my love of the idea of it and the friends I have made.

I would drive the three hour trip to and from Atlanta five or six times, keeping my feet straddled between two different worlds. When I was at camp things were extremely busy and hectic for me, yet the pace of camp was a lot slower. And then there was the structured schedule, and I love not having to cook or grocery shop and having the ability to spend time disconnected from the world. I really thought that this would be an ideal schedule. Spending some time at home, and others in a beautiful place in the mountains.

Somehow I never stopped to consider the downside to this “lifestyle.” I didn’t spend enough time at camp in order to enjoy the new friends I made. I constantly felt that I was both missing out on fun opportunities and guilty that I was not there for people when they needed me. I worked ridiculous hours trekking up and down hills in the heat to catch all the photos I needed and then spent hours editing and downloading them with spotty internet connection. And the first two years I didn’t have a bed at camp so I would drive in the dark 30 minutes on windy roads to stay at our friends’ home. Although it was beautiful and calming, I spent too little time there and with them. I came home from each trip more exhausted then the time before.

Last year I finally got housing at camp which did improve my situation drastically. And still, struggling with my depression, it was a difficult situation. The camp is fabulous for so many reasons, and like any other job it also has its rough elements. For me, the constant feel that I was being pulled in every direction, combined with not feeling settled in any one place made it an exceptionally rough time. But by then I was already in therapy and really thought that I would be able to both physically and emotionally handle it. Oh how I was wrong. Driving back and forth alone was another hardship and my thoughts would often get the best of me. At the end of the summer I was totally run down and falling apart; however, when my girls told me they loved their time at camp I knew I would be willing to put myself through it again.

So here I am, one year later sitting at the same kitchen table where I sat in tears so often not so long ago. I have been extremely anxious the past few months to see how it would feel to be back in a place that could be a safe and happy haven in theory but hadn’t yet. My friends, therapists (yes, I have more than one that I am in touch with), family and others were worried as well.  I have waited 8 days to write this blog post in order to be able to accurately gauge my thoughts and emotions. I am tired. Exhausted to be honest. And I’m happy. I have had my daughter with me the entire time so far and it has been an incredible bonding time for us. She becomes a camper on Monday morning and her younger sister will be coming up to join us - and I can’t wait! I am still doing my photography at camp and I am also working in their art department with a close friend and two young women. It feels great to be a part of a team. I am working on advocating for myself and I feel grateful that others around me are aware of my limitations (in order to stay healthy) and they are assisting and encouraging me. I know that I am beyond lucky to work with supportive colleagues and friends while I am here.

Daughter helped me with this form of self-care; however, she stayed in bed when the self-care involved exercising!

I will be up here on and off for the next 4 weeks and am looking forward to continuing to work on balancing my life. Taking time for my self care, which in this case has been to relax while making my own art and spending time with my girl, has made all the difference. Now I am smart enough (or more accurately aware enough) to know that I may still need a phone call, text, or e-mail to one of my therapists or friends or family to help me out, and if I do that will be ok (that is, of course, if I can get my spotty cell reception, wifi or any other mode of communication to work). And I will definitely resume the more formal part of my recovery when I get home!! No worries there!