Departures and goodbyes
Today was the last day of camp where I work. It wasn’t my last day, but it was sort of a “conclusion of summer at work” event, with a post-show dinner for the staff and lots of goodbyes to campers (some of whom had been my campers a million years ago).
There were two shows today, at 3PM and 6PM, and it wasn’t until after the second show that I realized it was going to be a difficult evening. I turned to my intern, who was helping me run the box office, and said, “My goal for tonight is to not cry in front of campers.”
I…did not so much succeed.
I was doing pretty well through the show, and even managed to go out to mingle with counselors, staff, campers, and parents post-show. I ran into one of the counselors and joked with her about my goal, knowing from another counselor that she’d already failed toward that end. She laughed and explained how one of her campers saying goodbye had prompted her to cry earlier. I said I would try to stay strong, and turned away.
I was confronted by another counselor with a bouquet of flowers and a hand-made card signed by all of the counselors, assistant counselors, and staff.
That’s when I started crying.
I tried to go hide in the theatre, where I ran into the assistant camp director and kind of broke down. I didn’t want to completely lose my shit, so I held back my tears as best I could. Not fun, and not conducive to good breathing. She reminded me that I’d still see everyone in the future, and helped me calm down. I went to put the flowers in the office and go out to help my intern clean up the box office supplies.
The drive to the staff dinner was also tough, as I made the mistake of taking a moment to read the card before I started my car. Which (inevitably) started me crying again.
Dinner was fun. I’ve been stuck in the office most of the summer, so it was really nice to socialize both with my bosses and with the counselors and camp staff, without feeling like we should be working or preparing for the next part of camp. I was invited by the (high school and college aged) counselors to come hang out with them, and my inclination was to decline. However, one of the camp teachers was going, too, so I figured it wouldn’t be too weird. (I’m not that old!)
I’m really glad I went, even though it was hard in some unexpected ways. Simply hanging out with them was lovely, both because I enjoy seeing them interact and because I’ve enjoyed seeing them grow up and at least begin to move from students to peers. I wouldn’t say they’re 100% of the way there yet, but they’re getting closer and closer.
When I finally left (about 1:30AM, so maybe an hour ago) I immediately started crying in my car again, and cried the whole drive home. Lets be honest: I sobbed. I haven’t cried that hard in a while, and I’m not convinced I have all the tears out of my system. I was really tempted to not drive home, get back out, and go back to where the socializing was taking place.
Why was I crying so hard? And why did I want to go back inside, to hang out with people 6-8 years younger than me?
I was crying because I already missed seeing these people who I’d been working with every day for the past two months, and intermittently for the past three years. I was crying because many of them were going away (or back) to college, and wouldn’t be back for months or years. I was crying because I’ve loved the community where I work, and I’m worried that losing that will take a bigger toll on me than I’ve been expecting. I was crying because I’m scared I’m going to fail as an artist (at least, fail financially) and end up back at my mom’s, wishing I hadn’t quit my steady job. I was crying because change is hard and scary, and this is a huge change, something I’d never expected or planned for myself.
And I realized, as I cried my way home, I was crying for some less expected reasons, too. I was crying because this was a group of high school and college girl friends who accepted me as one of their own in a way I never experienced in high school. Without a doubt, my friends (and girl friends) accepted me, but not as a girl friend. Not until much more recently, as I’ve transitioned, which has – by virtue of not being in high school or college – been a different kind of relationship. It’s been quite some time since I’ve felt so keenly a desire to have transitioned earlier, or to not have needed to transition at all. I was crying at what still feels like a missed youth, as much as I try not to indulge in such painful and ultimately fruitless thoughts. I was crying because I wanted to be one of them, want to be one of them.
I was crying because this job was where I transitioned, and the manner in which the teen students were simply unfazed was and is touching. Because campers of mine from before I transitioned, who so easily could have avoided me, came up to me today to say they would miss me and were sorry to see me go.
I was crying because I’m so scared of what comes next. I wanted to go back in because I wanted to share that fear, to have a group of people, people I know care about me, crowd around me and assure me things would be OK. They made me feel younger by their inclusion of me, like I needn’t have missed what they have, a simultaneously delightful and dismaying discovery.
Themocracy
Awwww.
One of the good things about being a woman is nobody worries about you crying.
A new adventure awaits you. Hope it’s a good one.