Whoa...opening old wounds is painful

This last week the family took a trip to Northern California where my husband grew up. We had, to quote my son, an EPIC vacation. I have a lot of photos and stories to share. Meanwhile, I need to document my day: The girls had one day to prepare for Girl's camp. They were so stinking excited to go that they were literally bouncing off the walls and each other. I was more then ready to drive them up to camp. When the leaders asked for drivers I quickly volunteered. I understand how important it is that the leaders of my children find support in the parents. I just wasn't prepared for what happened next. It was super hot up at the campsite. I wasn't needed for anything else like I originally thought. Before I left I helped the girls pull up they're hair. Which is odd since I told the girls at the beginning of the summer that I was no longer going to help them do their hair. This was the first time I had done so. I hadn't seen Isabel and was just waiting for her. When she finally plopped herself down next to me she broke down in tears. Come to find out the girls in her tent gave her a super hard time about using the tinest of cots. With 3 girls now going to girl's camp, we had only 2 bedrolls. Brent being the helpful Dad came up with the solution, borrow a small cot. Well that solution kind of blew up in Isabel's face. Thanks to a quick thinking Mom, and an older MiaMaid we figured things out. I need to preface this story by saying that there were 40 girls up there. Ya, we have a ginormous youth program. I quickly realized that I needed to leave the situation. The girls obviously were in good hands. They needed to rely on one another, other girls and leaders. Besides that, memories of my youth quickly began to surface. If I didn't leave oober fast I was going to break down myself. I did end up breaking down several times as I relayed the story to some close friends and family. It hurt to see my girl struggle. It hurt to remember my years of being surrounded by not so nice young women. In addition, it brought up my not-so-good experience as the cook of 425 for Stake Girls Camp just 2 years ago. I know that my girls will have a great time up at Camp. At least I will pray hard that they will. Growing up is a hard thing. I'm relieved that I don't have to do it again. Girls, in particular, can be extra mean and demand fairness regardless of hurt feelings. Being the chubby girl growing up I was constantly made fun of, not accepted and ran from the church building to cry behind the bushes. Girls Camp was NOT my favorite. I think what I fear most for my girls is rejection. But not all stories have to be the same. More then anything while they are up there, I pray that my girls will begin to build friendships with each other. To discover that sisters can be their greatest allies. Opening old wounds is a painful ordeal. I was invited to come up again this evening to help bring up a few needed items. I declined. I'm obviously still bleeding emotionally from my wounds. To go up would have been disastrous. I told my husband that it will probably take until Grace is in Young Women's for me to overcome my hurts.