I've Got Guts

The reason five weeks elapsed before I was able to write this blog post is not that the Girls with Guts retreat was forgettable. It's mostly because the experience was so powerful that I had to let it sink in for a while first. (And for at least a week, I'll be honest, it's because I was too busy. Laundry isn't gonna do itself.)

I've been seeing a counselor for a few months. It turns out that (surprise!) I have some scary mental issues that center around being chronically ill. The counselor recommended that I try to connect with other people who have Crohn's or ulcerative colitis (collectively, IBD, the inflammatory bowel diseases) to talk to, people who intimately understand the things I'm trying to deal with. Mere days later, I saw an ad in my Facebook feed for a retreat put on specifically for young women with IBD. The first weekend in October in Gresham, Oregon (about half an hour's drive), for a couple hundred bucks? Well, I thought, if that's not a sign... 

A YMCA cabin in the trees.

That's how I found myself bunking with several other girls at a YMCA camp that was so hushed, breezy, and saturated with early-autumn colors that it seemed otherworldly. There were about 60 attendees in total; they'd come from all over the country (and Canada). At the beginning of the weekend, most of the conversation centered around "symptoms" and "medications" and "stupid hospital stories." It was the first time many of us had felt normal in years, a fact that brought several women to tears during the introductions alone.


I didn't have to explain why I was exhausted all day. When anyone asked where the bathroom was, four other people would stop mid-sentence to give clear and rapid directions. And that pained, haunted look that sometimes showed up in people's eyes was universally understood. By the end of the weekend, though, conversation shifted to things like pets, boyfriends and girlfriends, and favorite books. The IBD seemed more important than ever--it brought us all together--and yet no longer important at all.

Nothing brings people closer like Cards Against Humanity.

I spent a lot of time napping, but the rest of the time was spent at workshops and talks for the whole group. A clinical psychologist taught coping techniques for PTSD and stress management. A dietitian poured her knowledge into us, and most importantly, she emphasized that what makes us each feel best is what we "should" eat. In small groups we talked at length about body image, relationships, and managing guilt. There's so much guilt that comes from putting the people we love through all that comes with illness, but what stuck with me was the idea that I'd be giving them a gift by letting them care for me. I'll have to remind myself of that daily.

I did a little zipline between naps. (I'm the short one.)

I wrote down countless bits of information, advice, and wisdom. The one thing I know I won't forget, though, is the guided meditation session. In a darkened room, with a heavy, cleansing rain outside, the speaker told us to close our eyes and find a feeling of joy and sweetness, to feel that in our heart center. I cast around for the feeling and found it in a memory of being snuggled tightly in my man's arms. Then, the speaker said, I was to transfer that feeling to my lower abdomen. Tears flooded my cheeks in an instant. My stomach is where I imagine an iron weight, a demon's claws, anything but joy and sweetness. But by letting the warm feeling radiate downward, I felt more connected to myself than I ever had. My tortured insides felt loved and safe and secure. And happy.

I am so grateful to the people who care about me, to the founder of Girls with Guts, to the speaker at the meditation, and to the counselor who knew enough to direct me to what I truly needed.

My bunkmates. Just LOOK at this unplanned sunglasses symmetry!

I no longer feel so alone. In fact, I might even say I feel... hopeful. Not bad for a weekend's work.