So, I'm at church camp...

I, being the classic early bird, got to camp early. Which meant I was first into my bedroom, and got first pick of the beds.

There are:
- a double bed, in the same bit as a bunk bed
- another bunk bed, around the corner in its own little piece of space

Guess which bed I chose?


(Clue 1: the first sentence of this post)
(Clue 2: it's 6:18 in the morning, and I am already showered, dressed, using my laptop, and wondering how I'm going to survive until breakfast at 8)


Strangely enough, there seems to be this idea around the place that everyone ever will fight for the double bed, because you'd have to be crazy not to want the double bed. Which is exactly what everyone else said when they showed up (late) and looked wide-eyed and wondering at my totally incomprehensible choice NOT to pounce on the double bed while I had the chance.

I just shrugged and smiled. And then went to bed an hour before the rest of them. And got up while they were all still fast asleep.


Because, really, given the choice between a bigger bed and a bed that means I won't disturb people with my weird hours, there's no question which one I'm going to pick.

old scars

Today, I didn't get a turn on the swing, and I burst into tears. Isn't that something that's supposed to happen when you're three?

I ended up sitting on a bench hugging my knees and feeling convinced that I completely sucked. Stupid, stupid over-reaction...


But this is the problem with events that have multiple layers.

On the surface, what happened was that I missed a piece of information, and didn't get to go on a swing. Disappointing, but not a big deal.

But look at it another way, and what happened was that I tried really hard to do things right (for once), put a lot of effort into doing things right (for once), felt all hopeful that things would work out properly (for once), and suddenly found out that I'd got the wrong end of the stick and stuffed up (again). And that situation has happened to me, over and over again, since I was tiny.

It's an old wound. With a lot of emotion attached. And having that ridiculous, trivial event pulls up all of this horrible, dreadful emotion, that briefly makes me feel completely out of my depth.


I'm a very together person, for the most part. But even though I survived (even thrived), I still got wounded. And it still can hurt.