Life is Not Meant to Be Fixed, But to Be Felt

Ever since high school I have said, “I am not sensitive, I am highly susceptible to feeling a lot.” I am a feeler. I feel things deeply. Intensely. I have never been able to hide my emotions, thoughts, or feelings. Camp HOPE was no different.

I was a blubbering mess on more than a few occasions, trying my best to shield campers from my tears so they wouldn’t worry. For the safety and privacy of the kids, I can’t share many details, but I want to share this. Camp HOPE wasn’t just about me being a light for these kids. Each of them, in their own way, taught me something. They each helped me grow just as much as I hoped to help them.

In social work, you are forced to face parts of yourself you thought were healed, memories you had completely forgotten, and pieces of the past and present you did not realize still lived inside you. Camp felt like walking through a hall of mirrors, every turn revealing another version of me demanding to be seen, heard, and felt. Each camper reflected back a phase, a place, or a version of myself.

Camp felt euphoric, but not in the way most people imagine. The weather was not perfect, the food was not gourmet, and I was not getting long stretches of sleep or lazy mornings. It was the opposite. The magic was in how free I felt to simply exist in a way I never had before.

I was not shackled by social media or drowning in comparisons. I was not obsessing over every pore in the mirror or pulling at every inch of skin. I was not anxiously switching through outfits, trying to figure out what other people would approve of. Instead, I just existed, with braided hair, silly shirts, fish earrings, and a frog bucket hat. I felt like myself.

At camp, my worth was not tied to likes on a post, my appearance, or what I did for others. It was not measured against anyone. My value came from who I was at my core, free from outside pressures and fears of how people saw me. I was celebrated for being authentically me, raw, vulnerable, compassionate, kind, thoughtful, silly, and empathetic.

Every night, we celebrated the kids with character trait awards. Counselors would share, in front of the whole camp, why a camper embodied a certain trait, gifting them a bracelet with this word to wear. Watching their faces light up as they were recognized and seeing them beam with pride was magical.

On the last night, when the counselors were surprised with our own awards from the campers, I could not hold back. I was hysterical, crying uncontrollably as they each explained why I was gifted the “Caring” character trait award. “You take the time to listen to us, talk with us, and care for us.”, “You wash and fill our water bottles with ice in the morning before we are even awake.”, “You spent your break cleaning our cabin so we wouldn’t have to.”.

It hit me hard. Caring is my purpose. Not for recognition, not for celebration, not for anything in return. It is just who I am.

And as I cried, those same kids used the very tools we had practiced all week to help me regulate. “Ms. Tori, breathe in as you trace up your finger, breathe out as you trace down.” They didn’t realize it, but in pouring into them, they poured back into me, healing parts of the younger version of myself and me today who needed the same care.

When the campers were asked to find something they were grateful for, they all rushed toward the counselors, wrapping us in big hugs and cheers of thanks. That group hug, where we all stood together sharing gratitude for our little camp family, was one of the highlights of the week as they expressed how much they appreciated the counselors.

When one camper asked if I would return next year, I immediately said yes. Unless the world ends, I will do everything in my power to be there. Their response was, “We get to grow up together.” My heart grew ten sizes like the Grinch.

Camp is everything our society needs more of: routine, community, shared meals, sunlight, movement, creativity, walkable communities, space to share talents, and freedom from constant technology. Coming home, I felt how far I had drifted from what humans really need to thrive. I am already making a list of ways to bring pieces of camp back into my daily life.

If I had to describe myself after camp: I have the heart of Miss Honey, the firmness of Lady McPhee, the boldness of Miss Frizzle, and all of it wrapped up in being simply, unapologetically, Ms. Tori.

If you have followed me for a while, you know I dive headfirst into new dreams and identities. “I am going to be a politician.” “I am going to run a nonprofit.” My aspirations change often, and I see that as a privilege. To dream, to explore, to feel limitless in shaping my present and future. I get to do this. I get to serve others. What a privilege to be tired from the work I once begged the universe for. What a privilege to feel overwhelmed by growth I prayed would come. What a privilege to be challenged by a life I built on purpose. What a privilege to outgrow versions of myself that no longer serve me.

Even therapists need therapists. Since coming home, I have slept a lot. I have fallen behind on a lot. I have reflected endlessly with supervisors, mentors, friends, family, and my therapist. The lesson I keep circling back to is this: Life is not meant to be fixed, but to be felt and lived.