Post NWTC

It seems that every year, after camp, I experience the craziest need to just sleep and be alone to decompress, to relive experiences and conversations, to have song after song play in my head. To need the time to just close my eyes and recreate that hug, this moment. As if by doing so I can imprint them on my memory in a more tangible way. My skin feels itchy, being touched by others is bothersome, noise and sounds annoy me in the worst way. Like nothing can be allowed to interfere as I assimilate all that was camp into my psyche, into my very bones, to be able to call it forth when needed in the dark days of winter.

Curiously, last year I didn't work as hard at maintaining camp relationships. I didn't travel as much, stopped emailing. I don't know why, or what started it. Last year's camp was an amazing experience and maybe it was enough to keep me going. Or maybe the desire to maintain contact fled. It was a very hard year, after all. And I wasn't in a place to open up and share. I passed though towns where camp friends were and felt that old shyness creep up and constrict me, keep me from calling. This year, all I want is to figure out when people might be gathering, try to see where I might fit in visits. A trip back east? South to Phoenix? That huge conference in Chicago in November where so many convene?

I feel the need to gather it all close inside. I had a shitty time at camp in many ways - with the van accident, I was incredibly fractured, pulled out of the moment continually. I was stressed about Xander's experience, which was not what either of us had hoped for, despite all our preparation for change. The mix of people was different, expectations weren't met at times, and I didn't get much time to visit with some of the people I dearly wanted to, and had mixed experiences with others. Yet this year, much more than last, I want to reach out more, which, quite frankly, boggles me. Am I trying to make up for what I didn't get? Trying to expand on what did work, to strengthen the experiences that were positive? There were moments - a couple of hugs that seemed to stretch into eternity, right when I needed them the most, a couple of private conversations that gave me a better understanding of the people I was with. Moments with some that I don't often get, and new friendships that have the potential to blossom beautifully. Walls knocked down and new levels of friendship built. All while struggling to find my place, to make some sense of what was going on, while forced to deal with the practical.

I know this is a babbly entry. Its hard to put into any sort of concise words. But right now, I feel the need to store it up, soak it in, build it into my very being, so that, when things are bleak, dark and lonely, I don't feel as lonely, or as afraid or shy to reach out.

That's about it. To new friends. To recreating old relationships. To skin hunger and music, laughter and tears. To trusting that things can be okay, that there are good people in the world, who don't see shyness as snobbery. To driving down the freeway with the top off, to hearing songs in the darkness, singing lullabies to friends, hugs that nourish like I was a child. To math riddles and being acknowledged as someone who did something right. To being in that place of grace, being safe, being loved and appreciated. To true, unflinching eye contact, and silly inside jokes. To knowing songs that others know, and some that no one else does. To stepping outside of the comfort zone, making music and making friends. Asking for a backrub, 'doing it right'.

To NWTC. I don't think you realize how very important you are to me. Thank you.