I'm Giving Up

"Today is my last day. I don’t see why I needed to send in my weekly status report,” I said calmly, while trying my best to ignore a strong pit in my stomach.

“Yes Jane, and that really puts our team in a tight spot. Our 2025 year roadmap will now completely change due to staff capacity with you leaving. The least you could do is finish your updates to the deck,” my manager said, with a following huff.

“Okay, fine, I’ll update it later today. Is that all?” I asked, resigned to my final corporate menial task.

“Yes. Bye, Jane,” she said before ending the Zoom call.

I rubbed my eyes and checked my bank account again: $30,000. The number I’d waited a decade to hit. The number that kept getting knocked out every time it got close due to emergencies and reckless spending. Finally, I was over the finish line, and I was just fucking done.

It was all set up. I was giving up!

I checked my email to be sure my reservation was confirmed: one RV campsite for the 2025 season, April to October. I was starting my new life where no one would bother me, everything would be simple, and I wouldn’t have to give a fuck about Zoom meetings or dating bland dudes or fake friendships crumbling ever again.

Goodbye spreadsheets, hello dirt roads and fire-cooked hotdogs. Dragonfly Campground, here I come.

After I finished, I slammed my laptop shut for the final time. I threw it in my backpack and looked around my empty apartment. I didn’t even want to spend another second there. Time to get the fuck out.

I leashed up my tiny poodle Paddy, gave one last glance to my old life, and shut the door, leaving the keys in the lock.

When I got into my new small, used RV, I tried not to think about how much of my savings the monthly loan payment would eat up. Fuck money, anyway, right? I was giving up, so what does it matter?

As we hit the road, relief and fear competed for totality over my mind and body.

The drive went by in a blur. Honks behind me due to my slow speed on 95, a few wrong turns, and next thing I knew, I was driving down the familiar dirt road of my childhood campground. I hadn’t been there in two decades, but somehow it felt like home—way more than our actual house ever did. Probably because this was the place my parents put aside their differences (which they enjoyed screaming out loud) for the sake of “relaxation.” Before their brutal divorce, of course.

I pulled up to the check-in area as a rush of nostalgia hit me like a tidal wave. But with it, I also felt like I was being slapped in the face with disappointment. Everything was… smaller? Newer and yet older at the same time. Simple and yet vastly complicated. How was I going to do this?

“I thought that might have been you!” shouted an older man with a handlebar mustache and only a few tufts of hair remaining on his sunburned head. “Jane Henderson. The dunking champion.”

“Oh, um, hi. The what, sorry?”

A woman with long red hair with gray streaks came out from a back room.

“Is it really her, Douglas? Jane?”

She looked simultaneously extremely familiar and devastatingly unfamiliar at the same time. But I knew who she was. I knew who he was too. They were the owners of the campground.

“It is indeed, Cath! It’s Jane!”

The red-haired woman came out and gave me an embracing hug that took the wind out of me.

“I can’t believe how much you’ve grown! You were just turning into a beautiful teenager last time we saw you. I couldn’t believe it when I saw your name on our seasonal roster this year. So, where’s your family? You must be married to a handsome husband with a few wee ones by now!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, um…”

“Yes, where’s the lad? I’ll help him get the ole septic tank hooked up,” Douglas said as he walked to the door to poke his head out in the direction of my RV.

“Oh, it’s just me,” I said before my throat started to close from the dirt and my sinking fear that I’d made a grave mistake.

They both stopped dead in their tracks and looked at each other.

“Oh, really?”

I let the awkward silence marinate a bit, for both lack of what to say and curiosity how long their pitying stares could go on.

Douglas coughed before saying, “Um, well, I guess we don’t need to give you the low down on the children’s activities then… though honestly not much has changed since you’ve been here. We’ve still got the old dunk tank, the pool, the treasure hunts and talent shows… But any case. Um. So what brings you back here then?” he asked as he gathered my check-in paperwork to hand to me.

I tried to think of something clever to say but at that point, why bother?

“Well, basically, I’ve given up. My relationship ended, I quit my job, and now I'm here.”

Before the silence could pierce my soul, I grabbed the papers from his hands and turned on my heel to leave.

Fuck it. Why hide the real reasons?

After about two hours of brutally setting up my RV using YouTube and WikiHow articles—and almost getting squirted in the face by the contents of the septic line—I was finally settled in enough to take a break just as it turned to dusk.

I grabbed the old royal blue camp chair out of the trunk of my car and unfolded it by the small fire I’d started. Paddy curled up on the tartan blanket next to me.

Welp, this was really it then.

The start of my new life. All that mattered was keeping Paddy and me fed and sheltered.

My brain couldn’t quite accept it, though. I heard the ghost chimes of Outlook emails, felt the urge to check my messages even though I knew there wouldn’t be any, except maybe a few from my concerned perfectionist parents. My mind started to want to grieve all the items I sold or donated before the big Giving Up™, items that were suppose to represent who I was, who I am.

All the painful memories swirled in the background: being blocked by who I thought was my best friend over a minor mistake, being broken up with by the man I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, and those lovely memories of being humiliated in work meetings over missed deadlines or slightly incorrect metrics.

Fuck, man. Was this shit gonna haunt me even here?! I want to get AWAY from all that. From people. From life.

My eyes burned as I stared into the fire unblinking, trying to make sense of it all, when my soul-sucking spiral was interrupted by approaching footsteps in the gravel outside my site.

“H-hello?” I shakily whisper-shouted.

“Hey there! Sorry to startle you, I’m a neighbor and just wanted to say hi.” A man around my age with a scruffy beard, wearing a worn flannel stepped out of the shadows.

Oh, great. Just what I need: an attractive man to throw me off.

“Hi,” I said sharply and coldly.

He walked up, mindlessly kicking dirt up onto his pants already lined with dirt.

“Haven’t seen you around here before. It’s usually either loud ass families or retired older people.”

I didn’t say anything. He coughed and put out his hand—covered in dirt, of course. I hesitantly shook it.

“I’m Matt but they call me Mountain around here ‘cause I’m always hiking.”

“I’m Jane,” I said back.

Awkward silence.

“You new here?”

I gritted my teeth, dreading the small talk so soon into my newfound 'relaxed' life.

“Yeah, well, kind of. I went here a lot as a kid. I just, I dunno, decided to come back for a bit.”

“Ah yeah, I went here a lot as a kid too. We look around the same age, so I wonder if we played together as kids! Maybe in the pool or something. That dunk tank never ages, man. Sometimes the kids convince me to sit up there and I swear it’s like I’m not a day older. It’s so fun. You should try it.”

I let out a little polite laugh.

“Uh yeah, we’ll see.”

Another awkward silence.

“Alright, well, I’ll let you settle in then, Jane. I’m just across the way there if you need anything. You can basically just yell and I’ll probably hear ya, if I’m not out hiking.”

Great.

He turned around and a huff of dirt followed him through the air.

Twilight turned into darkness and I cracked open my Kindle to do about 10 minutes of reading by the fire before the mosquitos got to me. I let the fire die out before crawling into bed and instantly fell asleep from exhaustion.

The next morning, after struggling to cook scrambled eggs over the fire, I realized there were a lot more supplies I needed than expected. And I also realized it was going to be incredibly difficult to get anywhere without a car, since I was most definitely too lazy to unhook my RV to drive out of the grounds for errands.

Camp store it was.

On my walk there, I started to question everything. Was this really the escape I wanted? Was there even really a place where things would be easy?

Everything felt so familiar and yet so new at the same time. This had been my favorite place as a child: my escape, my adventure, my freedom.

Why did it suddenly feel like a trap?

I walked up to the camp store and was greeted by a way-too-friendly woman around my age, in a blue sundress with long black curly hair, similar to mine.

“Oh hello! Welcome in. I haven’t seen you around here before! I heard we have another young single lady around here. I’m Beth, and I already can tell we’ll be friends!”

Yeah, just what I need...

“Jane,” I said, shaking her sweaty hand.

“What can I help you with, Jane? We have the best camp store in NJ, let me tell ya. Most camp stores don’t have much by way of food, but we have almost everything! I make sure of that.”

I was shocked to see she was right—the grocery section seemed fully stocked.

"We've got fresh fruit and veggies, that's important. And a great partnership with local farms for fresh meat!" she exclaimed.

The store felt huge but not large enough that Beth had to break our mostly one-sided conversation.

“Oh, you’ve GOT to come to the kickball league tonight. It’s adult-only, and the kids are all wrapped up in a scavenger hunt throughout the grounds.”

“Oh, um…”

“You seem a bit shy but I promise, it’s really fun! We drink beers and have a laugh. Mountain runs it, and so it’s always a party.”

Oh great. Socialization. The exact thing I was trying to run away from.

“Okay, maybe…” I said as I started to rapidly pick out any food that looked good to throw into my cart.

“Y’know, Mountain came in earlier. He said you seem cool and we love cool people!”

I nodded and kept searching for things I needed so I wouldn’t have to come back again soon. This was what I was trying to get away from— the pressure to perform, the obligation, the politeness. I knew she meant well, and so my reaction felt again like I was failing. Like I’d failed at everything else.

I went up to pay and could tell I’d disappointed her in my lack of social willpower.

“I’ll think about coming tonight,” I said.

“Yay!” she quickly responded. “Six o’clock, on the dot!”

The rest of the afternoon was spent in between napping and munching on all the snacks I got at the store. My body still felt in fight-or-flight mode, ready to get some angry text from my boss or learn something triggering about my ex, but over time it started to calm down and I found myself listening to the sounds of the campground.

I was in a spot far enough away from the family sites, so I didn’t hear much of the children playing, but I did hear the trees blowing, the birds singing, and even the sounds of a small creek nearby. I’d forgotten that those sounds mattered too. It wasn’t just about the dings from my phone, the “swoosh” of a sent email, or the gossip from a friend. It wasn't about what people thought of me or what they might be saying. Maybe it was about the breeze, my breath, and just letting go. I lost track of time just sitting there, listening.

Life suddenly felt expansive rather than restrictive. It felt alive rather than dying. It felt… happy, rather than sad.

“Hey there,” I heard, along with the now-familiar sounds of footsteps on the gravel up to my site.

But this time, I didn’t wince.

“Hey again,” I said back, friendlier this time.

“Coming by to pick you up on the way to kickball. Beth said you’re in.”

Internally I still wanted to argue, say “I never said that,” come up with an excuse not to, or even just roll my eyes. But I was drunk off the sun and the sounds and I actually, surprisingly, wanted to go.

“Yeah, I’m in.”

I got up to join, without even reaching for my phone. I just… went.

On our walk, he told me about how he also quit his corporate job to move there, how he also left a serious relationship and wound up back there.

One sentence in particular really struck me: "I felt like I was surrounded by so many people, but I wasn't like any of them."

I felt less alone than I had in years.

Once we got to the field, Beth greeted us with hugs. I actually hugged back.

“Welcome! You’re now officially part of our family! Once we suck you into our events, you’ll never get away from us.”

They introduced me to the other folks, and we all cheers-ed to Saturday night. Something that I would have normally made fun of internally, but somehow suddenly felt right.

I gave up, but who's to say I can't gain appreciation for the little things now.

Without my defenses I found myself actually enjoying getting to know these people. Kicking a stupidly big bouncy ball across a ridiculously overgrown lawn. Drinking ridiculously cheap beer that gets a coat of dirt every time I put it down.

I was smiling. Maybe this was what I actually wanted. Not to escape from life, not to escape from people in order to prevent getting hurt, but to find a place where I could breathe, smell, and smile. Maybe this was the best decision I’d ever made. The start of a new life. One doesn't have to be spent alone.