Retreating from Retreats

The women’s retreat that Katherine tricked me — I mean, invited me — to attend was this past weekend. 

I know, for most people, retreats are seen as good things.  These gatherings allow us to withdraw from our ordinary activities for several days, so we can refocus and rejuvenate. 

Spiritual retreats — which I would categorize this one to be — give the participants time to reflect and reconnect to their source of strength and inner “selves.”  They give us the opportunity to meet and commune with people of similar thoughts and beliefs. 

I know it sounds great on paper — and even as persuasive as Katherine was — nothing could prevent my insecurities from resurfacing.  Fears of rejection and not fitting in saturated my soul.  Memories of my first — which was to be my last — women’s retreat came flooding back.

That retreat was meant to be a spiritual retreat as well — one based on the religion in which I practiced.  Ironically, my choir director “back then” was the one who invited and sponsored me — just like Katherine (my current choir director) is sponsoring me, in this one…

In that past retreat, I had to surrender all control and freedoms.  That choir director and “sponsor” simply dropped me off at the retreat site and left me there.  I was not told what to expect (“Don’t anticipate.”).  I was not given an agenda or schedule.  I was not allowed to wear a watch or know what time it was.  I was placed in the hands of complete strangers with no way to escape.

We (the participants) were shuttled from one meeting room to another like sheep.  We were assigned bunk beds in a condemned building that had no air conditioning, minimal lights, and sparse toiletries.   [This retreat occurred during the muggy and steamy month of August in Florida.]

Discussion leaders were those who had participated in the last retreat.  It’s during their sessions that they shared their life stories — one miserable event after another and another and another.  Loneliness and abandonment resonated in every tale of woe. 

By the end of each meeting, I was convinced that God was trying to prepare me for some horrible event that was going to happen to me.  I was convinced that the wonderful life I had — up to this point — was going to be taken from me.  Why else was I dumped here, surrounded by such tales of misery and woe?!

Putting my paranoia aside, it was apparent that these gatherings were meaningful, supportive, and helpful to those who experienced similar misfortunes.  They, definitely, found what they were longing for in the arms of this structured and controlled environment that they created.  

I was happy for them, but I was not one of them — nor did I long to become one of them.  I wanted to “retreat” from this women’s retreat as quickly as I could, but I couldn’t.  I had no form of transportation to get away.  I was stuck for the entire 80-hour experience.

And they used every moment to work on me — to conform my thoughts and beliefs to theirs. 

Yep.  I was identified, quickly, as an outliner — someone in need of being saved.  It was their mission to transform me into someone who was as miserable, unhappy, and unworthy as they were… someone... more acceptable in their eyes.

It’s been 20+ years since that experience, yet all of it came flooding back to me once I agreed to attend this spiritual retreat with Katherine.  Ironically, I will be labeled as an outliner with this group as well — and for similar reasons as before.  I don’t conform to this group’s practices or beliefs, either. 

This group supports a very liberal and free-spirited lifestyle; I, on the other hand, live a quiet existence, void of excitement.  I am vanilla in their eyes — ordinary, bland, plain, dull… 

So, yeah…  I will be seen as an outliner in this group as well.  Katherine knows this, too — so, we came up with some escape routes for me.

First, I will have my own car, so I can leave whenever I wanted.

Second, Katherine will be attending.  Even though she knows that I will be fine — that I’ll fit in, that I will be welcomed into the group, and that I will not be forced to transform into someone I am not — she reassures me that she will act as my “protector.”  I can turn to her when I’m feeling overwhelmed or stressed… much like the parent who is there to fight off the unseen monsters under a frightened child’s bed.

So…. with this plan in hand, I agreed to go… and go I shall.

(to be continued…)

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