Just got back from camping trip. No, it wasn't all thirty of us this year, but it was still a good time. I've tottered my crutches through sand and gravel to lay on the the beach. And swim. Swim kilometers, in fact. At least two. While socializing at the same time.
On the down side, I did come home a day early. Just 'cause the beach was going to get a teeny bit old. There was no hiking, volley-ball, or basket-ball for me. However, today is the first day I'm really noticing a big positive with my foot, and am doing a great deal of rambling around with just a limp.
So, camping. Check. several times now, actually. This summer is playing out about as well as I could've hoped. I wanted it so bad. A healthy summer at home with a decent hit of the season's valley fun I love so much.
Sometimes I feel like since I've returned to posting my life looks like a party. A huge dose of all-great, maybe looking a little fake. I guess that's 'cause it has been a good summer. I'm not used to this laid back thing. I have done a lot of full-time miss-out stuff in the past. What have I been doing since Katimavik, though? It's so great to be here. But don't get me wrong... I've been through a lot.
Katimavik started off a lot for me. I've said before that I went into it as an adult. Very true, I was not the freshly graduated kid that many of the participants are. I was independant, and that made it very hard fitting into the program lifestyle. When the two other girls I considered to be at "point B", my mature counterparts quit in the beginning of the second rotation, it got even harder. I let slip for a while. Forgetting to care too much amidst the cabin fever and house drama. Caring about the kids too much, and letting everything get tangled up.
In third rotation I pulled back. Proving, I suppose, to myself that I could be the best I can.
Some of it was so painfully hard. My lifetime friend from home cut off contact, saying that she didn't care if I understood or not. I thought she was a sister, a million memories, and a million to come. I don't understand, and I doubt I ever will. I sobbed in the hall and Jess gave me skittles so I'd feel better. The next night emerged, black eye, bruised jaw, scratched back. Abused before fighting back. The climax of the most spiritually oppressed involvment I'd experienced to that point. Hours of prayer and complications in the extreme. My group knew, and I had to prove I was a worthwhile human, and stick by the other girl involved. Through that, lost another group-mate. The only other one I had thought to be a Christian. Thankfully, the one that hated me had left two days prior. I was strong enough to follow through my committments, leaving work at lunch break to lay in the small town backwoods and cry. Broken.
And then there were five.
I billetted, I rocked my group work, committees, and protocols. I visited with my sister. Ultimitely, one of my biggest Katima-accomplishments was that I emerged a leader. Strong enough to overcome. When I think about the tomboy farm girl I so definitely was before it's pretty incredible. I did manage to grow after all. A lot. Although there's still tough farmer at heart sometimes. But I found the freedom to be who I was outside of preconceptions.
I hadn't known if I was going home. But I did. I needed to work. One of my Katima-friends became my roomate, along with a cousin I love with all my heart. I got a job and learned to waitress. It was exciting, in a way. As much as becoming a small-town waitress can be. It was weird finding a short-term niche at home. And a literally crazy "friend" threw a lot.
I dated a boy. I'd known him a while, it was a complicated past. I was so happy that Christmas, for a week and a half. Realizing I was ready to sacrafice some things for others. Until I found out he was cheating, and lying, and breaking my heart. It wouldn't have lasted anyway, I hope, so it's good it came to a head so soon. But they say the first cut is the deepest. Especially when you trusted someone to that. So it took a while to heal.
That was supposed to be a good summer. I guess I wasn't ready. I quit the diner job which had pushed me, burnt me out, and taught me how to be an excellent waitress, leaving behind some great co-workers, the usual drama, and a tough boss. I held on to my cafe position. It was good, if not always smooth. I still had to fight through that summer, and try convince myself I was doing ok.
All of this was a work-up. If you can believe it. This post, the two jobs, the time at home, learning through relationships. 'Cause the world was my goal.
I just wanted to write a little bit of the past two years. I'll reminice on being a backpacker another time.