At work this week I’ve been helping with Kids Camp. 9am-12pm, we’ve had hundreds of kids in our building, playing games, eating snacks, learning, wrestling, crying, yelling, and generally being both adorable and obnoxious. My primary sensation this week has been noise – by their very existence, kids are just so damn loud. It’s like sound oozes out of their pores even when they’re not speaking.
One of my coworkers yesterday remarked, “The energy in this building this week has been so amazing. I absolutely love it and it feels so energizing!”
And I looked at her like she had finally lost her last marble.
Because I agree, the energy this week has been amazing.
And I am freakin’ exhausted.
I don’t know enough about the science of neurology to know how much of my dislike of sound is a biochemical response in my brain that I cannot control, and how much of it is personality or upbringing. But I do know that constant noise tires me out like nothing else I’ve encountered on this earth. I would be less exhausted after running a marathon in Death Valley than after three hours of kids camp.
But here’s the thing: I’m not saying we shouldn’t have kids camp. These kids are loud because they’re having more fun than a porcupine in a balloon shop. I want them to ask their incessant questions and make their weird noises and stupid jokes. I can see and appreciate the value of kids camp.
It exhausts me beyond belief to be around. My brain physically hurts from the noise and all the details.
But I value kids camp.
I think my point is that I can support (and even help facilitate) something that I don’t like or don’t want to be a part of, because I see the value in it. It’s not for me, and it takes a sacrifice on my part, but every day I’m here, posting Insta stories of kids wearing cat ears and volunteers making absurd faces.
I’m here for it.
I think a large part of our culture doesn’t encourage this these days. If someone else wants something, they can make it happen. It’s a bit of a side effect of the “You do you, Pikachu,” mentality. But if I truly believe that something can be valuable to you, isn’t it worth me sacrificing my comfort, or physical and emotional wellbeing, to help you make it happen?
Please don’t mishear me: I am NOT great at this most times. I just happened to notice it this week because I’m doing my job, and my job is to make something happen that I would rather not be a part of.
But isn’t it worth being exhausted, in the end?
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