the retreat that wasn't a retreat

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So I learned something over the past weekend: Never sign up for an event without having a copy of the agenda ahead of time.

With all that is going on in my life right now, I decided that a 3-day, 2-night retreat would be an awesome way to get away from everything for a few days, recharge my psychological batteries, and dedicate large blocks of time toward pondering a lot of deep subjects that are currently weighing heavily on my mind. I had been to the location of the retreat several times and always found it to be a beautiful, peaceful, rejuvenating place to visit.

My room was absolutely perfect: very minimalist, very quiet, a view of the woods out the window, and even a fan above the bed that was clearly positioned more for making white noise than for making a breeze. It was like they had read my mind. The grounds and the rest of the building I was in were amazing in their beauty and tranquility. There were quiet nooks to curl up in, nature trails to walk, and both indoor and outdoor labyrinths (walking meditation tools, which I dearly love). The other retreat-ers (there were 15 of us in all) were absolutely extraordinary women: calm, sweet, accepting, and non-judgmental.

Then we were handed the agenda, and I discovered that we were to be on almost a solid dead run the entire time. Lots and lots of group activities. Very little downtime. Meals provided in somewhat large, somewhat noisy cafeteria. I am so glad that everyone was such pleasant company, or I would have gone insane. As it was, when the evening activities started at 7 p.m. on Sat., I had to drag myself into the meeting room; I could feel all the uneasy warning signs of a panic attack or meltdown starting, but I soldiered on. When we got to the indoor labyrinth walk, an activity I normally enjoy immensely, I burst into huge, shuddering sobs while I walked it. I was freaking out at this point from the near-constant human contact. Fortunately, most of the other women had been weepy at some point during the retreat, so I didn't stand out as too awfully unusual (except for the severity of the crying). I got lots of hugs (which I love), pats on the back, etc., which was nice, but they did not really know why I was crying so hard, and I didn't have the heart to tell them.

I made some new friends at this event, and I'm still very glad that I went. However, it was anything but a "retreat" for me. I'm sure it was truly a vacation from the grind for most of the women (except for one other extreme introvert I talked to in private who was experiencing much the same feelings I had). I cannot fault the people who led the retreat; they were awesome as well, and I'm sure the agendas they put together for their various retreats are probably ideal for about 98% of the population.

I left there Sunday afternoon completely exhausted, and now it's Tuesday and I'm still utterly spent. I just want to curl up in a ball in bed for the rest of the day, but I have a lot of homework and housework to do. I feel sooooo overwhelmed and peopled-out.

The moral of the story bears repeating: I will never again sign up for an event (especially one that is billed as being "relaxing" or a "getaway") without first requesting a copy of the agenda ahead of time. Lesson learned.

Did you pay for this event? If so, then you should have stuffed the agenda up their ... uh ... well ... on second thought ...

Maybe nicely told them you had a better way to relax and just shown up for meal times

LOL, wavefreak--you are so bad!

Yes, I did pay for the event. I probably should have been more assertive about needing more time for solitude. I'm sure they would have been fine with it.

This was all brought on by my a) neglecting to "look before I leap," and b) ignoring my "warning signs" in an effort to try to be neurotypical. In both cases, I should have known better by now.

That must have been so frustrating! What some people think of as a retreat is obviously open for negotiation.

It reminds me of an experience I had on a so called nature trail. I had gone there with my boyfriend. He told me that there were actually wild horses somewhere on this trail, and I was looking forward to seeing them. What he didn't think to tell me, was that going there on a Sunday was a guarantee of crowds. By the time we were about a quarter of the way down the trail, I was overwhelmed. Groups of people kept standing too close while they chattered, took pictures, etc. The horses were beautiful, but every time I tried to admire them, someone was in the way, snapping pictures or chattering loudly about the horses. I finally melted down, crying and shivering. My boyfriend led me away from the people and up the trail until I could calm down. We decided to come back on a week day when there weren't likely to be such a lot of people.

To a normal person, the presence of other people on a nature trail would not have detracted from their pleasure. But that is not my idea of a pleasant nature trail experience..

Oh Hartz, I am so sorry to hear that. I know how you must have felt. Glad you had a boyfriend who understood. Did you go back on a weekday and have a good time, then? Hope so!

Yes, we did go back on a weekday. But the horses were nowhere in sight, that time. Still and all, it was much more enjoyable when there weren't so many people about.

To a neurotypical person, perhaps it wouldn't matter. But why would you walk a nature trail if you wanted to be among crowds? I must dispute the idea this attitude is "normal". It is decidedly odd, and makes no sense at all to me. I will walk, just to get exercise, even if there are people around (I am fortunate to be able to walk fast enough to outdistance most people easily ), but I only really enjoy myself when I have the trail to myself. Well, if I'm with one person of my choosing, I don't mind that, but people all over the place? On a "nature" trail?

Not sure what you mean. Could you clarify?

I would consider a failure to be troubled by the presence of many other people, on a "nature" walk, to be abnormal. Such an activity, by its very nature, involves a wish for silence, serenity, and solitude. With human overcrowding, neurotypicals may have learned to ignore the irritations of so many others intruding in such a situation, but that does not mean it is normal. It simply means that neurotypicals have allowed their perceptions to be so swamped by the sensory overload imposed on us by modern civilisation that even in the one situation where it would be normal for anyone to find crowds an intrusion, they fail to do so.

Edited to add: the word "neurotypical" does not exclude "messed up". In fact, I believe that the deliberate effort to ignore even overwhelming sensory stimuli demanded by neurotypical society to be proof that it contains inherent flaws which might well prove its own downfall. Our senses developed for a reason, and deliberately learning to desensitise them opens up the risk that something truly essential will be overlooked.

OK, I get what you are saying. And I agree, 100%!

Oh WOW! This is SUCH a GREAT thread as I have just returned from a convention with a group of people from my job!

When interaction becomes too much for me, I can feel myself "getting lost" in what's going on. Words become jumbles of sound and it becomes obvious to other people that I cannot follow the conversation - especially when there's a lot of other activity going on around us. It became apparent that my range of interests is restricted because when the others would get into conversations about sports and such, there I was sitting there like again staring at the skylight above us or obsessing over the cruise ships that pulled in (the Amadea, the 80,000+ ton Norwegian Spirit, and hte 100,000+ ton Carnival Triumph) sitting at the dock on the Mississippi River at various points! Fortunately, it was fascinating to see and I wasn't the last one to run out to try and see it when it was time for us to leave the food court! So I didn't get TOO weird.

What happened is that the whole thing became a balancing act. When I started to feel overwhelmed, I had to remember to PULL BACK because when I try too hard, I get lost and come off as weird. When I retreat for TOO long, I appear to be disengaged or even spaced out. And then I knew I needed to take advantage of our down time. I had been to New Orleans twice and this trip sparked up a great deal of nostalgia because we stayed at one of the hotels used for the previous Twelve Step convention I attended. The group I was with stayed at the Sheraton, but we spent a lot of time at the Hilton Riverside! Eating breakfast in the lobby, it was weird that I remembered that the place we were siting was THE SAME place we sat the last time I was there! And where our protégés were sitting was the other place in that restaurant where we sat on another day back in 2006! UnCANNY!

Anyhoo...during our downtime, I walked to Popeye's and spent a lot of time in my room alone! Or I walked the riverfront shopping mall alone and spent a LOT of time at the cruiseship terminal watching passengers board while the ship was provisioned. This gave me the opportunity to blot out what wasn't going right so I could make the best of the trip! There were times when I wasn't properly connected and engaged with our protégés - there were times when I felt like they could sense that something about me was "off" or not all there. I was judging my insides by the outward appearance of others in their interaction with each other.

So when one of them would look at me like I was some sort of weirdo, I would simply give him a look back like "WHAT...ever." But then I would immediately engross myself in whatever session we were in. And when the session was over, I would make myself go shake hands with the presenters, briefly comment about their workshop, and then HIT IT! I think our younger counterparts got it and backed off a bit.

Balance.

Eventually, I was able to become somewhat more connected and engaged. But what many people do unconsciously takes a whole lot more effort for me to do. No wonder I needed that downtime so badly!