Baggage at a retreat

Everyone else had a really good time...

We ran a writing retreat last week. We’ve been working on trying to find just the right house for these weeks where we host writers. So far, we haven’t found the perfect one. This one was airy, open spaced, remote, and had two lounges, which is always good. The only issue was that two of the small rooms were SMALL. Two twin beds, a foot of space between them, and nothing else.

Closets are not conducive to creativity.

Fortunately one of those rooms was empty, but the other had someone in it. She said she didn’t mind, but I felt guilty about her being in it all week long. And there was the other stuff that weirded me out, and I’ve been pondering my issues and trying to unpack a bit of baggage around it since we’ve been back…

Unpack with me.

We’ve been running these writing retreats (women only *inclusive) since 2014. In eleven years, we’ve probably only had two that didn’t go well because of personality clashes/issues. That’s a good run. And because I knew everyone in this group, I had high expectations. Everyone is awesome and fun.

And everyone was engaged. They were all glad to be there, glad to have the time for a week of uninterrupted writing, glad to be fed and to have a community of writers in a safe space. Awesome.

It was at meal times when things got weird for me. Seven people, sitting around a table…in silence. No one talking. Just sitting there.

My mind went into emergency mode.

What was wrong? Was someone upset? Why wasn’t the group gelling? What could I do to fix it? How did I go about figuring out what was wrong?

I commented on the silence. I asked if everything was okay. No one had an answer…no one really said much at all. Full freak-out mode engaged. I asked questions in an attempt to get things rolling. What’s your favorite book/author? What book did you used to like that hasn’t aged well? What’s your go-to read for off days? Is there life after death? One night I even asked everyone to show up at the dinner table with a question for the group. That one worked pretty well, but eventually, silence slid back into place.

Nic led a story roundtable game one night, and that was a ton of fun and got everyone laughing—like, tears and unable to speak laughing. I felt immensely better. At the end of the week, all the feedback was fantastic. Everyone had a great time, they enjoyed the time to write, they enjoyed the community, the food, the teaching, etc. No one had a single non-positive thing to say.

So it was most definitely my baggage.

I don’t generally find silence uncomfortable. My wife and I can sit in silence for hours. If we’re with friends, and there’s silence in the car or whatever, no problem. I suppose I’d placed expectations on the experience: this group will have fun because they’re all great people and we won’t be able to get a word in.

But the thing is, there were at least three people in the group on the spectrum. That right there changes the dynamic because folks are either afraid of saying the wrong thing and being ‘too much’ or they’re comfortable playing in their own thoughts. As someone on that spectrum myself, I fixated on people getting along and how I could make that happen. I couldn’t let it go. After all, it’s our business. It’s how we pay our bills, and we need people to enjoy these retreats. (And to enjoy them just for the sake of it, obviously.) There were age gaps, interest gaps, spectrum gaps, health issues… None of which were within my control.

What am I taking from the experience? I need to chill out. Let things be, and deal with issues if they’re actually issues. Let people interact the way they want to, facilitate where I can, but otherwise, allow that my expectations and desires aren’t those of the group. And be okay with that.

Do we ever stop learning about ourselves?