My first ever writing retreat - WTF do I do?????

A writer's retreat! In Wales! A writer's retreat in Wales! How exciting. My first writer's retreat. What does one do….on a writer's retreat? Write, of course I understand that, but like……all day every day? I frantically messaged my well-seasoned and experienced Writing Retreat Friend “Scott, what do I do? Should I be writing all the time? Can I go on my phone? Should I delete all my social media apps? Should I throw my phone away????”

I was overwhelmed. A whole week to myself, to my stories, to my voice, to my ideas. It was a all bit much. I was used to scrambling around, trying to find ten minutes after an exhausting day at work, scrunched up on my sofa, frantically writing. Or in a busy cafe on a Saturday afternoon before meeting friends and getting drunk in the city centre. 

But here, I had so much time. (and a DESK) It was clear I wasn’t used to having luxuries. The luxury of time, space, and money. It’s something I think about often. Where would I be, at which point in my career, would I be at by now, if I had the luxury of time, space and money? Further ahead, that's for sure. But I dislike drifting towards that way of thinking.. I have to work hard every day (lol, in every sense of that meaning!) not to go down that trail of thought because, quite frankly, it makes me depressed. It’s a depressing thought. My circumstances are my circumstances; I’m working class, I’m neurodivergent (and unmedicated - I’ve been on the waiting list for eight months now 😍!) along with the other factors of being a mixed race woman, and well basically being othered all your life makes you kinda second, triple guess yourself whilst repeatedly trying to shake the imposter syndrome feeling away. It’s all very distressing and distracting. I am finding it increasingly difficult to navigate all of life’s obstacles thrown at me whilst desperately chasing a career in a highly competitive, oversaturated, unfairly awarded industry. Life's obstacles being, you know, rent, bills, day job, and a fascist government whilst living on a planet that is rapidly overheating. Anyway, I digress. I say all of this because it's clear that when I am afforded and awarded a moment of peace, (because of course, reader, this luxury retreat is through my DYCP fund!) I clearly freak out. Go a little bit insane, panic, have an anxiety attack, pace around my beautiful large room, frantically messaging friends, begging them to help me (how can they help me?), seeking an outlet. Should I get high? Should I run a bath? Should I watch a film? Should I get high, in the bath, whilst watching a film? Should I begin writing right now?! A busy, overactive mind. I’m used to it. I have approximately fifty-seven thoughts and questions floating around my mind every three seconds. 

I unpack. That’s a good thing to do, I think. I’ll unpack. Then I run a bath. Because reader, you’ll be surprised to learn that I do not have a bath in my current flat (bathroom too small init) so even the prospect of a bath is a luxury to me. I run a bath, and then I sit down. And think. Let’s make a plan, Stef. Let’s make a plan for the week. That’s a good idea. That's what a neurotypical, middle-class (?) normal person would do. (This is my go-to for when I’m stuck. What would a middle-class, neurotypical person do? And I’m not suggesting that they too don’t have problems, just that it probably occurs to them to make a list and have a plan in a way that it doesn’t to me) I get out my notebook, and I make a checklist of all the things I hope to complete by the time I leave this beautiful place. Granted, on reflection, the checklist was a little ambitious. I put things on there that, looking back, were never going to get completed, but what can I say, I'm an ambitious chica!

After writing the list, and diving into my boiling hot bath (that’s how I like it) I felt much calmer. And I was able to look introspectively. And realise how lucky I am. Here I was, in this beautiful room, with all of this beautiful space, surrounded by beautiful scenery. I don’t have to worry about my day job. I don’t have to worry about cleaning my flat. I don’t have to be preoccupied about what to cook for dinner. I can just be here, being present, existing in this lovely place, walking, sleeping, eating, relaxing, bathing and hopefully.. Just maybe, with all of this rest, I’ll write something. 🥰