I wake up early. Stomach churns. Panic. A gust of terror that has no language to support it. Eyes burning without tears. Thoughts dart, searching for a solution. I enter your room and say I changed my mind. I’m not ready to go to Camp Kalmia for two weeks. “Do I have to go?” I ask. I must go. It’s already paid for. Question answered. A few sentences of pleading. “Please may I stay home?” I ask. I must go. Helplessness, void of color. I get dressed in the regulation Girl Scout shorts. A white shirt. Itchy. I’m in uniform.
Rachel Newcombe is a psychoanalyst, teacher, and supervisor on Orcas Island and in Seattle, Washington. She co-leads a creative nonfiction writing collective for therapists. Find Rachel on Twitter and Instagram @rachelnewcombe8.