1. I was in Summer Camp a long time ago and the biggest thing was to have a "girlfriend." Not a girlfriend in the traditional sense, mind you, but a sophomoric, tweenage "relationship" if you can even call it that. Be that as it may, I felt like everyone had one but me, and those guys would flaunt their girls all over the place. Personally, it disgusted me because we were so young, but I submitted to peer pressure and "put myself on the market." I approached a girl rather low on the totem pole devised by the guys in my bunk. Admittedly, I didn't have smooth moves, I still don't, and I was rejected. If I can analogize, she was like Dikembe Mutombo, rejected me and made me feel small. I became depressed, and my depression was furthered by my bunk. They made fun of me incessantly because I couldn't even get a girl like her. I exhausted all of my options in regards to adults I could talk to, so I devised a way out. I resolved that because the "counselors," if you can even call them that, made us write letters every other day and I had access to lead, I could put a pencil into my vein and either hurt or even kill myself. The irony is that it was the worst offender who prevented me from moving after I had grasped the pencil. Two other offenders got the groupleader and I was escorted to the health center, a cross between a martyr and a leper. My parents came the next day and took me home, not without my father joking about the incident over the phone, facetiously asking if they had put me in the rubber room yet.
Today, I see I've been scarred by the incident. I'm jaded and desperate when it comes to relationships. I've never had a girlfriend, and have made few friends after the incident because I don't trust anybody, even after a decade of depression, destruction, and disgust. It's not like I'm not interested, but I can't bring myself to do anything about it. I fear rejection, and I don't want to face it because I fear that this will all happen again. It's been almost ten years. I've mourned long enough, but I can't leave the state of solemnity.
2. I went to sleep one night and the next morning, I found a fart machine in between my mattress and bed frame. I was young and naive at the time, and I thought, "Heh, how'd this get here?" Keep in mind, I never owned one of these, even at that age. I think I dropped it from my bed (I was on the top bunk), and forgot about it.
Now, I got triggered. Someone was talking about a fart machine, no connection to my experience, and my blood instantly boiled. I thought through it, and figured they had to climb a ladder and go half way up my bed to insert the machine. This guy took the time to make me embarrassed or miserable, and I feel partially vindicated, and partially pissed off. I didn't let it affect me at that time, which I guess means I won, but now I want to punch that guy out for it (even though I have no idea where he is). I'm pissed, and now all these summer memories are coming back in a big way, from the mess hall shenanigans, chants and making me stack plates even though I had no idea what I was doing or why, to the manipulation of me against my one friend, making me empty his cubby for actions they caused. I feel angry, yet emotionally small. These assholes made my life hell, to the point of self-injury and self-doubt.
All in all, summer camp sucks, and I'll have no qualms about saying the name of the camp. It's called Kennybrook, and it's located on Monticello, NY. Website is Home - Camp Kennybrook and here it is so you know.
Today, I see I've been scarred by the incident. I'm jaded and desperate when it comes to relationships. I've never had a girlfriend, and have made few friends after the incident because I don't trust anybody, even after a decade of depression, destruction, and disgust. It's not like I'm not interested, but I can't bring myself to do anything about it. I fear rejection, and I don't want to face it because I fear that this will all happen again. It's been almost ten years. I've mourned long enough, but I can't leave the state of solemnity.
2. I went to sleep one night and the next morning, I found a fart machine in between my mattress and bed frame. I was young and naive at the time, and I thought, "Heh, how'd this get here?" Keep in mind, I never owned one of these, even at that age. I think I dropped it from my bed (I was on the top bunk), and forgot about it.
Now, I got triggered. Someone was talking about a fart machine, no connection to my experience, and my blood instantly boiled. I thought through it, and figured they had to climb a ladder and go half way up my bed to insert the machine. This guy took the time to make me embarrassed or miserable, and I feel partially vindicated, and partially pissed off. I didn't let it affect me at that time, which I guess means I won, but now I want to punch that guy out for it (even though I have no idea where he is). I'm pissed, and now all these summer memories are coming back in a big way, from the mess hall shenanigans, chants and making me stack plates even though I had no idea what I was doing or why, to the manipulation of me against my one friend, making me empty his cubby for actions they caused. I feel angry, yet emotionally small. These assholes made my life hell, to the point of self-injury and self-doubt.
All in all, summer camp sucks, and I'll have no qualms about saying the name of the camp. It's called Kennybrook, and it's located on Monticello, NY. Website is Home - Camp Kennybrook and here it is so you know.
