Chapter 11 #2
“We’re going to follow up that literal stretching with some internal stretching now,” Fern continues.
“You all had multiple opportunities to test your trust levels today. With your partners at the rock wall, and also in groups during the trust fall. Now I’d like to invite you to dig even deeper and make yourselves truly vulnerable.
” She lets her gaze traverse the circle. “Are you ready to let down your guard?”
Ummm … internal stretching sounds rough. I can barely touch my toes.
Bob drops onto the log next to Fern. “Think of this campfire here as our own little cone of silence.” He chuckles. “Except with twenty-nine strangers.”
“That’s what Camp Reboot is all about,” Hildy says, sitting beside him. “We’re here to open up and get real with each other.”
“And with ourselves,” Fern adds gently. “That’s the real risk.”
“Yep.” More nodding from Bob. He takes off his hat, scratches his head, like he’s finally getting ready to be serious.
“So I’m going to ask everyone here to share something with the rest of us,” Fern says. “And for some of you, this might feel hard.”
Sayla bumps my leg. “That’s what she said,” she whispers.
Fighting a snort, I nudge her back. “There you go.”
“Now.” Fern rests her hands on her knees, and her eyes drift shut. “I’d like you all to take a moment of quiet contemplation and consider what you believe to be your biggest fear.”
Our biggest fear? Right now?
No thanks.
“Give it a minute or two. Put some real thought into the topic. Get honest with yourselves. Then one at a time, we’ll move around the circle in a clockwise order and share.”
She’s got to be kidding.
There’s no way this is happening, Fern.
I, for one, have zero plans to share my actual biggest fears with any of these people, so I stare into the fire while a series of secondary options scrolls through my brain.
Like bear attacks. Kids puking in PE. Being forced to ride a horse.
Earwigs. I’ll kill spiders all day long.
Give me a scorpion and I’ll be all right.
But those little pincher bugs—they hurt, man.
I’ll die on that hill.
“I know for a lot of you here, your biggest fear could be an activity just like this,” Fern says, opening her lids again. “Sharing what makes you truly afraid—out loud—is a lot.”
Yeah, you think, lady?
“So let’s face that exposure head-on. Together. This will make us all stronger afterward. And also show you you’re not alone.” She scans the group, trying to make eye contact with everyone. I keep my focus on my lap. Beside me, Sayla draws in a gust of air. Lets it out.
“You got something to share?” I ask under my breath, glancing at her just in time to see her jaw tighten in the dusky light.
“Yes,” she whispers.
Well. Good for her.
“You?” she asks.
“Nah.”
After a few minutes, Fern offers to go first. How generous of her.
“Believe it or not, my biggest fear is public speaking,” she says with a laugh.
“Being in front of a group, even as small as thirty people, like this one, used to terrify me. I was so afraid of my own voice, I barely passed high school. And college was a definite no. That’s why I eventually chose the path I’m on today. ”
She takes a beat, letting this revelation sink in.
“I became an instructor in meditation, breathing, and yoga so I could teach others. But I’m also healing myself,” she says.
“To this day, my heart occasionally starts racing when I’m leading a class, but I remind myself we’re all just a bunch of flawed humans doing our best. And if anyone is judging me or thinking I fall short, that says something about them.
Not me.” She arranges her face into a smile.
“And you aren’t so scary after all.” Scattered laughs crop up around the fire.
“Now that I’ve shared my fear with you,” she says, “I hope you’ll all feel more comfortable sharing yours.
” She turns to her right. “You ready, Gretchen?”
While my rock wall partner reveals how much she hates flying (totally normal), I scramble for something I can talk about in front of these strangers that is not what I’m most afraid of.
Anything else.
When Gretchen’s done, Fern keeps us moving around the circle and the closer she gets to me, the harder I sweat.
One girl says she’s been paranoid about fainting ever since she passed out during her sister’s wedding and took out the altar on her way down.
This earns her some sympathetic nods and chuckles.
The guy after her cops to being scared of clowns.
Fair enough, my man. Wish I’d thought of that. But now if I say clowns, I’ll just sound like I’m copying him.
When it’s Sayla’s turn, she folds her hands in her lap, squares her shoulders, and says, “This may sound crazy, but I’m scared of birthday parties.” She pauses to let out a little half laugh, like she’s trying to make this less of a big deal. But something tells me it is.
“When I was a kid, my mom and I moved around a lot, so I didn’t get invited to very many parties. Unless the whole class did. And I honestly don’t know what’s worse. Not being welcome in the first place or going and not having a friend there.” At this, her voice wobbles a little.
“But even worse was when my own birthday rolled around. I was terrified that if my mom made me have a party, no one would show up. I imagined sitting in my current living room, and the doorbell never ringing.” She lets out a shaky breath.
“My birthday’s in June. The 22nd. And schools were usually already on summer break by then.
And when my mom finally gave up trying to force the party issue, I was so relieved.
To this day, I ignore my birthday.” She shrugs, like she’s trying to brush off the memory.
“But maybe I should be more like Fern and become a party planner or something.” She pushes out a chuckle, her eyes darting around the circle.
“That was very brave,” Fern says. And everyone at the campfire breaks into soft applause.
Including me.
The truth is, for the past three years, I told myself I wasn’t interested in beating Sayla.
That she was the one who was always aiming to compete.
But now I’m starting to think a part of me was trying to prove something to her all along.
And I’ve got no idea what the rest of the night might bring, but I can say this now and mean it. Sayla won this day.
By a landslide.