How I Broke the Rules and Lived to Tell the Tale
The day I learned candor comes with consequences
“The bathrooms are awful.”
Judging by the looks on everyone’s faces, I’d apparently said the wrong thing—or maybe just said the right thing too plainly.
It was feedback time at the end of Horse Camp, and our instructor had asked for one suggestion from each attendee to improve the week. My ten-year-old brain answered honestly: better bathrooms.
To be fair, the bathrooms weren’t much better than a port-a-potty. Thankfully, camp didn’t include overnight stays. Still, no one likes facing a mystery puddle at 3 p.m.
We’d spent the week watching horse videos, sitting through classroom lessons, and barely touching an actual horse until the final day. My first act of defiance came earlier that week when I chose the English saddle instead of the Western one. What everyone else thought was weird, I saw as simply different.
By the end, I was tired of pretending everything was great. So, when asked for feedback, I gave it—no sugarcoating, just truth.
I never went back to that delightful camp in Michigan. I’m sure they’ve upgraded the bathrooms by now—but maybe not the feedback sessions. That day, I learned the world doesn’t always reward honesty. But it’s also where I learned I’d rather risk the eye-rolls than lose my voice.