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Work eats up a third of our lives. Sometimes, it’s a passion; sometimes, it’s a paycheck with a side of ulcers; usually, it’s a messy in-between. Me? I’ve seen the extremes. Long-time readers know I met my husband at a summer camp gig, but that job wasn’t just a love story—it was a crash course in chaos that would shape why I studied HR, psychology, and project management. Early in my career, I had to figure out how to survive toxic systems and wanted to fix them for someone else. This one’s raw and too personal for public posts. It’s about the camp that broke me, built me, and sent me running.
