Retreat!

Where are all my moms at? Ooooh, ladies, let me tell you... I am writing while pissed! You know those mornings when nothing goes right? Well, that's been my morning.

I woke up this morning and, other than an inconveniently timed Zoom meeting, my day was set to be delightful. I was heading to an overnight writing retreat with my favorite teacher-writers from the Gateway Writing Project. And, it's the best kind of retreat: unstructured! The only schedule we have to stick to is the meal schedule; our small writing groups meet for sharing and feedback whenever we as a group decide. And I always look forward to our evening social when we enjoy adult beverages and lively conversation and, last time, Cards Against Humanity! 

The frazzled and exhausted author beginning
to enjoy a therapy donut once arriving at the retreat. 
Not pictured: therapy coffee.

Well, this morning, nothing went according to plan. The Zoom meeting was cancelled, so I was already getting a late start for no good reason. My husband needed the car this weekend to chauffer kids hither and yon so he had to drive me the 40 minutes to the retreat center, effectively erasing my decompression time between home and writing. My son had a meltdown because he was hungry and didn't like any of his clothes, so he wouldn't get dressed. Then he refused to come downstairs because a neighbor teen was over visiting. I was trying to pack my clothes and gear while the whole family was in my room and underfoot: my husband just wandering around dazed, my son still upset and loud-talking about his television and clothing hardships, and my daughter wanting hugs and the $5 I promised her. Despiteall of the distractions and slowdowns, I managed to get everything packed and downstairs where I then had to dodge three teenagers juicing and blending and chattering loudly in the kitchen just to get my water bottle and protein bar to-go. I managed to find the relocated charging cord (thanks, husband) for my earbuds (which I'd meant to charge last night, but there was another set of fires to be put out) and was ready to go. Then my son refused to come downstairs because he'd been crying and didn't want our neighbor teen to see him, he was embarrassed. I brokered a deal between them that she would remain in the kitchen until we left, which worked well until I realized she had parked us in our driveway. Thankfully, my son had overcome his self-consciousness and we were able to get out the door and on the road before any other crises could occur.

As we drove out of town, my husband started chatting with me about world events. It is rare that we are able to have a sustained conversation, so I was grateful for this time to talk like people -- despite being quite frazzled and trying to get into the writing and relaxation mindset. But as he continued on about our state's plans to follow Texas's lead in paying people to rat out friends and neighbors who cross state lines for abortions and then The Florida Project and Disney's hand in reinforcing poverty with their housing monopoly, I felt my stress and anxiety increase exponentially. Finally I asked him how he could think and talk about this stuff and be okay, because I was not handling it well and felt like I was going to freak the fuck out. I want to talk to you, I told him, and I don't want to make you feel like you can't talk with me about this kind of stuff, but right now after the morning we had, I just can't do it. He understood and was happy to change the subject to JK Rowling being trolled on International Women's Day, but we still ended up discussing the politics of wizard police, house elves, and TERFs who believe the need for better leadership is the only problem with "the system". You know, lighter fare. 😬 Oh, and did I mention our son kept proclaiming from the back seat that he couldn't hear the music and was brow beating us for turning it down and talking over it?

And then, just as I finally felt like I might be coming down from this bad trip of a morning, I realized I was completely fucked: I left my computer charging cord at home. The one time I have a number of pieces to do heavy revision on and I won't be able to use my computer! I have a journal I can write in, but I'd planned to continue cannibalizing them and typing up helpful snippets for a project I'm working on --  NOT rewrite works in progress by hand. Just no. So what? I use my phone? Teachers, we all know how well that works for our students, amiright?

My husband did the worst thing possible at this point: assumed my retreat was in some high tech place with a computer lab/writing center where I could easily borrow a charging cord for my antique Lenovo computer (haha) or borrow a laptop or print off my work. No, I explained, this is like camping in a spartan motel room. There are no fancy labs for checkout -- my plans were fucked! So, just stop trying to remedy it (unless he was going to drive the 40 minutes home and bring it back to me) and be sympathetic. Ugh.

And then my son, although maddening at times is a really sweet kid, told me all about he's seen a show on the TV where someone was able to recharge their cell phone using a potato. "So, Mom, once you get to the place, if you see any potatoes snatch 'em up and use Nature to help you!"

I tried really hard to get my act together, despite feeling like I was going to Hulk out, so that I could say loving goodbyes to the two people I love most in this world. I didn't exactly succeed, but I think they both noted my efforts to be kind and caring through my haze of anger.

So, now I'm here at the writing retreat and I've written this cathartic rant-y blog entry, watched the latest episode of Chicago P.D., and taken a two hour nap. I'm feeling much calmer now and ready to smash a big salad. And then, mayyyyybe, actually get some butt-in-seat (writing) time.

Fingers crossed!