Ugh
At summer camp last year, I was a sort of trainee living with a younger bunk. July 5th, everyone in both sides of our bunk are summoned into the camp director's office for Very Bad News. There was a car crash the night before involving three counselours. One is in hospital and the other two didn't survive. One of them is a counselour from our bunk and had attended the camp since she was a little girl. My girls are hysterical and the noise is the worst sound I'll ever hear. I swallow tears and try to be strong and make a horrible effort at comforting everyone.

Things only got worse because that day was a day-off, so there weren't many activities to keep kids distracted with. Half of the camp was at the movies along with dozens of fellow trainees who were extremely close with her and had no idea of what had happened. Head of camp calls the half present into the main theatre to tell them what's happened. More sobbing and screaming and horrible noise. After awhile, everyone else comes back and many go completely oblivious about what's happened. Most of my friends are inconsolable and absolutely devestated.

A few days later, I have to go home to attend a mandatory university seminar about the school and what we will see as freshmen. I'm miserable, most of the staff are very pissy about my lack of interest in the school and my decision to not spend the night there, and during a presentation about the horrors of depression, rape, and drunk driving, I leave and break down crying in the bathroom, telling the whole story to a poor aide who was very nice to listen to me. I wound up leaving after a semester anyway since the school was such shite.

The icing on the cake? My mom and I get into an argument on the way home, I start drama in a camp related community on MySpace when I'm trying to report news, the washing machine over flows with my laundry and as I'm trying to help mop up the basement, dad tells me to go upstairs to write my thank you notes for my graduation gifts. I go upstairs and bawl, letting myself have a proper cry ever since it happened. Family realises I might be just a little upset over what's happened.

There was a beautiful memorial service held in the circus where our counselour had worked and spent most of her time at camp. They had to cap the number of people who wanted to share stories, sing, or say something about either her or the other counselour. It was a beautiful service, my friends and campers were very strong, and most everyone left the service feeling a little better. I left feeling a little optimistic that things would get better.

Bullshit. The abuse I was already taking from a camper and one of my counselours only got worse, almost all of my friends were busy in different shows or side projects so I rarely saw them, and a huge wave of PMS left me blubbering for a week. I can't think of a time I did stop crying from how miserable things were going and how little of an effort the staff was making to reprimand either of them or get me out of the damn bunk. (The two were very "how dare you ask me to do our part of chores when I'm putting on make-up? That's so rude. You're a fucking bitch." types) I was finally switched out, but I was so drained from the accident and my previous bunk that I left early anyway.

I barely knew either counselour, but I didn't realise how often our counselour had been in productions until I saw cast listings written on the walls with her name. I saw her face everywhere around campus afterwards and I'm still definitely not over it, but I don't want to bring up the subject around anyone since it's just salt in their wounds. I don't remember many people telling me if I was a good help for what was going on, especially since most of the girls in the other side of the bunk were from my bunk last year or grew attached to me anyway as their trainee rarely spent time around them.

Apologies for length and terrific amounts of depression. It's late, I'm nuts and I saw an opportunity to get stuff off my chest.
(DeadCats, Sat 13 May 2006, 9:25, Reply)