PART 2- It's Not You, It's Me... Except That It's Mostly You

I met with J&M (the board president and vice president). I had a speech prepared.

I told them I love camp and that for 6 years, I've had the unwavering belief that we could be successful. I told them that I am 100% committed to the summer ahead and that it was sure to be the best summer yet.

I told them that I have some major concerns about camp.

#1- After 66 years, we should have a strong, passionate community who cares about camp. But if we were to close tomorrow, I think that a few people would be sad, but there wouldn't be anyone who rose to the occasion to fight for camp. I feel like this camp is running mostly because I continue to show up every day, not because it is an important organization to a large group of people.

#2- I've done everything I can with paint, cleaning supplies, and a hammer and nails. My dad made some great improvements. But this camp is falling down. We need a million dollars (probably more) to actually update the buildings. I think we are a windy day away from cabins falling like dominoes. I can't run a camp that just waits around until things fall apart. Things fall apart when I am attempting to run programming which is unsafe and stressful.

#3- There's a lot of competition in the market- other camps but also summer sports, academic programs, etc. I am looking around at our struggling little camp wondering if, at some point, we ask ourselves, "can we compete?"

I told them that they have 4 months to find a new director. Not just someone who loves kids, camp, the outdoors, but a marketing/fundraising/business expert.

They told me they'd had conversations about what they would do if I decided to leave. They told me that they'd asked themselves for a long time how long we would keep camp going. They told me that they didn't think anyone else could have done what I did. They told me that they didn't think there was anyone else who could do any more than I've done and that without me, they don't think camp can go on.

Um....

I appreciated their kind words and assurance, but I didn't think my quitting was going to be the end of a 66 year old camp. I want to quit so someone more qualified can come in and fix what I couldn't.

So the plan for now is to have a normal summer and then in the fall, meet with the board and close camp. We'll see the property and convert the 501c3 into a foundation. They asked if I want to run the foundation. I said I'd need more details but that I'd think about it.

My head is spinning. I leave for camp in a month. I am not sure how I can just be normal for the summer, but I guess that's my only option at this point...

It's Not You, It's Me... Except That It's Mostly You

I used to get so excited about things I was working on for camp that I would work evenings, weekends,  and any free time I had. It didn't feel like a job- I enjoyed it too much to think of it as work. But for the past few months, I've had to drag myself to the office every day. I've not been sleeping well. I've been miserable. I've been feeling like a failure. I feel like I am terrible at my job.

When the consultant was at camp this summer, she had a lot of nice compliments for me. She told me I am a great camp director. Camp is doing amazing programming. I am doing great work marketing. The staff is outstanding. But there’s only so much you can do in a 65 year old camp that is run down and falling to pieces. We’ve done a lot of work in 5 years and I wish I had taken photos that first year because compared to then, we look like Club Med. We’ve done everything we can do with the updates my dad made, with paint, with the grounds work T has done- ultimately, we need a few million dollars and major renovations.

I appreciated her honesty, even though it hurt. Sometimes the truth hurts. I love this camp so much and I have such high hopes for what it could be. I didn’t realize how blind I was to reality. I didn’t think my perspective could change so quickly or so drastically, but her words were like putting glasses on for the first time and realizing that everything had been blurry because you are just seeing detail for the first time. All of a sudden, I’m looking around at my beloved camp, and for the first time, really seeing the age, noticing the disrepair. Much of it is covered in brightly colored paint, but this camp needs a lot of work. 

When I got back to the office this fall, I came up with a new, ambitious fundraising plan. I was beat down after a tough summer, but determined to throw myself back into the fight to make camp great. I raised almost twice as much money this year as last year. I've done more marketing than ever before. And yet, I feel like I am failing because I haven't been able to raise enough for the new buildings we need. 

So after months of telling myself, "no really you are a good camp director!" And after much thought and many conversations I have come to the conclusion that I need to find another job. I love this camp so much and I thought I would be here for the rest of my life. But I feel like I'm in a bad relationship and despite the love, I know that this isn't a healthy fit for my life anymore. I am a GREAT camp director. But this camp doesn't need a camp director.

This camp needs a fundraising expert. This camp needs a marketing expert. This camp needs someone with entirely different skills than I have. I've done everything I can do, but it's not enough.

So now I need to tell the board.... and then find a new job...

Community

Last week, the father of two of our campers killed himself.

I don't know every camp parent, but both he and his wife have come to camp the last few years to drop their girls off and I know them.

I sent a note and we had flowers sent to the house.

A day after the funeral, the mom called me. I was surprised to hear from her. She told me she was calling to say thank you for the flowers. I told her that wasn't necessary and I asked how she and the girls were doing. We talked for about 15 minutes. She sounded distraught and lost and sort of unsure of what she should be doing. I knew exactly how she felt. After my dad died, I had several long, random conversations with people- the words just tumble out and you find yourself just rambling on.

I hadn't expected to hear from her- you don't expect thank you calls after a funeral. I felt a little bit honored that she felt a personal connection to camp enough that we were on the call list.

I've worked really hard to build relationships, to make personal connections with families, to create a community. I am so proud of what this camp has become.

Update

I used to write all the time because even when it wasn't the summer, I had a lot to say about camp. But I have only written once since camp ended.

I went into the summer 6 months after my dad died. Those six months were an absolute blur. I have photos and facebook posts from that time period and when I look back, I look normal, life seemed normal. But off the top of my head, I can't remember anything from those months. Grief is all consuming. I had no idea how difficult it would be.

I was nervous about facing camp without him, but I headed off to the woods and everything was ok. The summer started and life felt normal for the first time in a while and I was happy.

And then camp flooded. I can't put into words what it felt like to watch this place that I love so much, have loved for five years, that I worked, side by side with my dad to fix, get swallowed by the lake. Camp wasn't destroyed, we were lucky, but the weeks underwater and of the unknown were agonizing.

I ended the summer exhausted. But not just exhausted like normal, but beaten down. I felt defeated.

In October, I hired a full time Assistant Director. "A" has worked at camp for 4 years and just graduated from college. She has been my right hand man for years and I couldn't imagine anyone else would be able to love this camp unconditionally and believe in, no matter what, the potential for the future. She has been an exceptionally hard worker and has impressed me every single day. She is mature and professional beyond her years and if she hadn't been by my side for the past few months, I am sure that I would have given up.

For five years, I've been saying, "give me 5 years to turn this place around." I was convinced that I could change the reputation, gain recruiting momentum, raise enough money and make enough updates on the physical property that this would be a successful camp. 5 years later, there is a LONG list of MAJOR improvements that I've made, but we are still a struggling camp.

And as we get closer to the summer, I find myself more stressed out, more anxious, depressed, unmotivated, despondent. We need more money. We need more registrations.

I have done and am currently doing everything I know how to do. My dreams of a beautiful, successful camp seem impossible.