Tag

endings

Things that made me cry today, in no particular order

Posted by — No Comments

lake

-Listening to one of our campers play and sing a song she wrote on her ukelele, about how much she loves camp.

-Watching one of our little 6-year-olds silently cry. And when I said, “I’m feeling really sad about camp ending. Are you?” he heavily sighed, wiped his eye, and said, “Yeah, I am.”

-Watching another one of our little 6-year-olds say goodbye to our therapy dog. He knelt down, and whispered in Cadet’s ear, “Bye, Cadet. It’s my last day of camp.” He then told us, “Cadet is so sad it’s the end of camp. Cadet wishes he could come back every day. Cadet is going to miss camp.”

-A thirteen-year-old camper saying, “I don’t want to go to school. I wish camp could be forever.”

-Four nine- through thirteen-year-olds making a conga line in the water during free swim

-Taking one last picture of our backyard this morning, and one last picture of the lake yesterday afternoon.

-The idea that yet another summer is done, in the blink of an eye

backyard

Feeling the feelings

Posted by — No Comments

“I’m so sad!” He sobs. “I don’t want to leave. I’m going to miss it so much!” Tears stream down his face as he clings to his mom, then clings to his counselors, then back to his mom.

It’s the last day of camp. And he’s heartbroken.

We started previewing the end of camp (Week 7) during the middle of camp (Week 5). Because it takes that long to preview, to process, to feel, to cope. We talked about it every day. And each camper’s response was different. Some ignored, some yelled, some hit, some cried, some became clingy and some became distant.

This little guy did a lot of the above. Some days he was super silly, some days he claimed exhaustion and refused to participate. Some days he got angry and hit.

But on this last day? He was just sad. And as he screamed and wailed about how much he didn’t want to leave, how sad he was, how much he would miss camp, my heart broke for him. Because even as staff, we feel that feeling too. Camp is not just special for our kids, it’s special for us, too. And as I heard him cry over and over again “I feel so sad,” I couldn’t help but realize how huge that was. This kiddo was not hitting, not shutting down, not fighting with other campers, not telling staff that he hates them. He was feeling his feelings. He was labeling his feelings. Do you see how huge that is?? So I felt sad for him. We all did. But in addition to that sadness (not instead of, not a replacement, we spend all summer teaching our kids that they can feel multiple feelings and that it’s okay, and so can we), I felt proud. He was labeling his feelings. He was feeling them for what they are. And that, is a major success.

The end.

Posted by — No Comments

It was a wonderful summer. The kids had a great time, the staff enjoyed themselves, and I loved (almost) every moment. There is something so unique to camp. Working outside, breathing in fresh air for 8 hours a day. Seeing the kids swim and boat and do arts and crafts but also teaching them interpersonal, social thinking skills to make changes and last a lifetime. For a seven week program, we do some pretty great work with them. Today was our last day. I had been dreading this for about two weeks now. The anticipation is what is so hard for me — knowing each moment is the “last” of something. Despite the heartwrenching tears I cried after the last car pulled away, I’m glad it’s finally done so I don’t have to anticipate goodbye anymore.

If it’s this hard for me, and I am (relatively) neurotypical, I cannot even begin to imagine what this is like for our campers. Their sensitivities, fears, rigidity that come with their autism and their souls are magnified during the last two weeks. Meltdowns are frequent, behaviors regress. I can’t imagine what it’s like. For seven weeks, they spent their days safe, loved, nurtured, helped, guided, and most importantly, around adults who cared and around kids who were like them. It’s a safety-zone for them. A safe haven. And then they realize: not only is camp over, but SCHOOL is starting. For many of them, school is a place where they’re bullied. Left out. Anxious and depressed. Fall behind. Left alone.

I pick up on all of their energies, their fears and worries and dreads. I’ve felt it all the past two weeks — I am porous and permeable like they are, and I have felt it. And oh, it hurts.