I daydreamed about returning home with new friends, funny stories, and maybe even my first boyfriend. But instead of finding independence and adventure, I found the opposite: sudden timidity, anxiety, and depression. Two weeks no longer felt like a transformative vacation, but a distressing abandonment. Across multiple hard-won phone calls, I begged my mom and dad to come get me. My counselors repeatedly assured my parents that I would get over my homesickness and fall in love with camp. I certainly hoped I would. But, a week in, I couldn’t last any longer. On the other end of the landline, my family reluctantly agreed to bring me home early.
From the moment I left camp, I felt simultaneous relief and shame. I was delighted to be back in the comfort of my home, but I also questioned why I couldn’t stick it out for just a few more days. I was determined to go to camp again the next year, convinced I could conquer my fear. When the second attempt failed even worse than the first, I developed a severe separation anxiety and fell into a deep depression at 11 years old. With the help of time, an involved school counselor, and supportive parents, I was able to recover and return to my old self. Still, I avoided talking about camp out of embarrassment and shame.
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