by I almost didn’t go this weekend, but I’m so freaking glad I did.
Wonderland Camp is a camp for kids and adults with disabilities at the Lake of the Ozarks. Once a year they host a camp for moms who have a child of any age with any disability or chronic condition. I heard about it from some other moms in local support groups who raved about their experience. On a whim I sent a message in to see if I could make it work to attend. I quickly got back a “yes!” response, lined up respite coverage, wrote it on my calendar, and promptly forgot about it until the week arrived.
Then I started to try to talk myself out of it. I didn’t know anyone else “in real life” who would be there…. I may have met my best friend on the internet years ago, but my anxiety in social situations, especially in large groups, has been pretty much through the roof after the past few years. I’ve also been exhausted since having caught “the” illness a couple months ago and have felt like I’m just barely surviving on naps and caffeine. Then I couldn’t find anything to wear that went with the luau theme of the retreat. And just when I thought I was out of excuses, an unexpected series of events on Friday had me running far enough behind schedule that I was going to arrive after the sun had set, well after check-in was over.
Like I said – I almost didn’t go…
The minute I arrived I was very quickly welcomed and included in the community. The mantra behind the scenes was a reminder to do as much or as little of the scheduled activities as you wanted. Some might say the path I chose was a bit of an indoctrination by fire, but for me it was exactly what was needed.
I wish I could explain what it’s like to be around people who truly understand the hard stuff, and how rare it is to find an outlet for the vastly different things we go through. Don’t get me wrong, we have some seriously amazing local support groups for things like Down syndrome and heart defects, but there’s something truly different about being in a community with such a variety of lived experiences. Especially for a family like ours who has a laundry list of various diagnoses.
Every single woman there had their own incredibly unique life story and history as a parent of a child with a disability. Some were young parents. Some have adult children. Some are now parents of angels. Everyone had at least one disability diagnosis – Down syndrome, cerebral palsy, autism, etc.
Aside from being parents of children with a disability, we all seemed to have something else in common — a need to disconnect from the daily insanity, a craving for community, a desire to not just be supported but to be truly understood, and to also provide the same for others in return.
I can’t explain how much it means to just sit comfortably around a campfire and share stories of your struggles with your child’s defiance without fear of judgment. Or how amazing it is to be able to grumble to another mom about how tired you are of changing diapers for seven years now, who has been there/done that and doesn’t question your judgement on why you haven’t started potty training yet. Or how it feels to be able to tell another mom that she’s not alone when she mentions her kid is struggling with something and you’re able to share that she’s not the only one who feels that particular issue isn’t worth the battle.
There are no words for how it feels to talk with someone who can relate with you about the ridiculously hard things — like how you’re struggling to shop for clothes for your kid in the next size up because the future is so unknown and you don’t know if you can handle the emotional turmoil of going through those things if the worst should happen. Often those kinds of topics get responses that feel like pity, or judgment for not always staying positive. Although people always mean well, it’s an entirely different feeling to talk about those “icky” things with someone who has travelled the same path.
Sitting in smaller groups of these women, nearly everyone would ask for permission before providing any suggestions or advice. As parents of kids who are “differently abled” we are often bombarded with suggestions and ideas from well-intentioned friends and family members. So it was even more telling that the words “can I offer a suggestion”, were almost always followed with a “yes, please” that was as genuine as the advice being given.
And outside of that? We were all able to relax and truly let our guard down, to not have to be constantly checking on our kids, and to do something for ourselves. The camp spoiled us immensely with entertainment/music, crafts, food, activities and more. We were able to take leisurely boat rides or climb the rock wall. We tie dyed shirts and stamped bracelets. We laughed. We cried. We danced. We rested (or at least we thought about it before going to the “after party”).
I showed up late, carrying a heavy load of anxiety about how I wasn’t sure I would “belong”, and I left feeling like I had a new family and feeling so much lighter – having a huge weight lifted off my shoulders, a renewed energy, and a wealth of reasons to go back.
So thank you – to the moms who suggested going. To the moms I met while I was there. To the camp for taking care of us. To the donors, sponsors, entertainers, and service providers who donated or volunteered their time to make the weekend possible. And to my family and friends for making sure I had very few excuses to try to get out of it.
And a bonus “Thank you” to the people who took photos to share on the because I was definitely enjoying myself too much to remember to take many of my own. (There’s more on their Facebook page if you’re curious).
Seriously though – Thank. You.
