The Rest Is Yet to Come: Discovery, Adventure, Nature, Knowledge

I don't even know where to begin, so I'll begin with the usual inane rambling until it snowballs into something else. Kind of a copout for a beginning, but I like to set expectations low.

At the start of the contract here at Wainui Park, our camp director encouraged us to set some expectations for ourselves, as well as explore some of our fears and apprehensions. Considering the flurry of events that got me from Auckland to Akaroa, it was nice to have someone else hit the proverbial pause button and create a space for reflection. I admire Andrew greatly for his ability to conduct us along in our various trains of thought.

The exercise was simple. We all got together on the floor of Gloria (our common house) and drew a large tree on poster sized paper. On the top we would paste a sticky note with 3 of our fears, the things that seem to loom over us. And as for the roots, we tack on our hopes, watching them grow into a new tree as time goes on. And in that time, the fears wilt and fall to the ground.

But wait! This metaphor can be problematic. What happens when the leaves decompose into new soil? Does a tree really change? Don't the layers just accumulate on the outside, leaving the core essentially unchanged? It's difficult to accept that these anxieties, embodied by the little voice of doubt, will be ingrained in you over the course of your life. Maybe they won't always be so prominent, but you never know what triggers will bring them back to the surface.

In some ways I like the problems that come with this childishly simplistic tree metaphor. If anything doesn't have its downsides, it's likely an empty consolation. And as for the childish part, it's not a bad way to get kids engaged in some sort of reflection—something I might be doing a fair amount of in the future.

Or maybe I'll just play video games forever. Can I just do that one instead?

Anyway, it's hard not to turn to clichés when you can only fit a feeling onto a Post-It note. So here are a few of mine, and how I feel about them now.

Anxiety #1: Losing my drive.

Burning out is a big one for me. I don't know what dimly lit flame brought me here, be it a mixture of chance or pulling a reluctant trigger, but some nights and mornings I feel a strong wind come through and threaten to blow me over.

There's a lot of information to absorb. It's exhausting, and my mind often runs in circles when it would be better off sleeping. It's hard to describe the frenzied stream of consciousness that pours through my mind in the wee hours. The thoughts aren't entirely baseless, but often the fantasies that ensue are a far cry from the reality that eventually comes the next day. The trouble is having excess time to think. Or rather, thinking about all the potential challenges as happening all at once.

And in those moments, I am on my own. It might be something as trivial as entertaining kids during a campfire session. I don't know how to sing the songs, do the skits, or make people laugh. Not on command, anyway. It seems that the brunt of the responsibility is going to be on me, but when the day comes everything seems to align. Maybe because I work with a team of people who communicate and all of that adult stuff.

But nonetheless, the me in my head is a helpless child at times. I like to think that I'm proving myself wrong every day, but even after four weeks I still keep myself awake with the periodic mini freak-out. It's easy to convince myself that going home would put an end to the uncertainty.

If I had to put a number on it, I'd say I'm 80% sure I'll see this contract through, but it has certainly made my avoidant tendencies more apparent. There's a part of me that actually wants to burn out, and that's sometimes a little scary to think about. Am I really prone to self-sabotage? I'm not so sure I always know when that little voice is whispering.

Anxiety #2: Making mistakes.

As a totally rational human being (hah), I acknowledge that mistakes are inevitable. But sometimes understanding an eventuality doesn't necessarily diminish the emotional blow. There were a few incidents in the last few weeks when I floundered a bit, unsure of what to do with all these kids looking at me, but I remind myself that those feelings will eventually dissipate.

Anxiety #3: Being boring.

I like to read. I'm somewhat introverted, especially in a new environment. I've had some rare moments when I feel like a social butterfly, but otherwise I am lost in my thoughts. As a result I can be seen as a bit of a recluse. The common house is far more comfortable than my tiny bedroom with its concrete bed and pillows, but often too noisy to really focus on what I'm doing while in the company of others. I like being around people, certainly, but I'm not always in the mood to chat. People might ask me if I'm alright, if I'm upset. While I appreciate their concern, it's often misplaced.

It must be my resting bitchface. I think I'm more inclined to accept this apprehension than the others; maybe the hermit life suits me. "To live well you must live unseen."

Though I wouldn't want to be pigeon-holed into purely one or the other. If only I could vacillate between the two so freely, but I have little influence on the matter, both in my mood and people's expectations.

As for my aspirations, they can easily be combined into a few hasty catchphrases: to be inspired, challenge myself, and gain confidence in leading people. Some of these are obvious inversions of my misgivings. If I don't find inspiration or some sort of purpose I will easily burn out. Even if I do see the contract through, it would be regrettable to spend such a duration with no sense of accomplishment at the other end. I have to get something out of it, too.

And it certainly isn't monetary compensation. So what might it be? A roof over my head for the next few months? Tacking something onto my résumé?

If I had to synthesize all of the elements, it starts to sound pretty obvious: I'm subjecting myself to a difficult experience in order to make it easy, to make myself better. The scary stuff is also the good stuff. Being embarrassed, feeling foolish—it's all stuff I should've been embracing years ago. I want to be able to speak to people with confidence, to express myself freely, but that just couldn't happen overnight for me. I have to test the waters for a little bit first.

I have to somehow hope that I get a little beat up in the process, otherwise I won't grow from it. And that's hard to swallow. It's also hard to witness. What if I have kids someday? Everything instinctual nerve in my body is going to reach out a hand and save the day, but I'll have to learn to let that fledgeling person-creature make their own mistakes, too. How does one decide when to intervene? Now that sounds like a challenge.

I can already tell I'm the softie that runs over for every scraped knee while the Dads are telling their kids to shut it or else they're not getting ice cream. Good thing I can practice my parenting skills on the hordes of kids that come through every week.

And if they're awful, devil-children, I get the pleasure of never seeing them again!