As a therapist who specializes in trauma modalities and a retreat guide, much of my life is spent holding space—witnessing, listening, guiding. But once a year, I step out of the facilitator’s seat and into the circle myself. It’s a commitment Ashley and I made: to attend a retreat not as leaders, but as participants. To remember what it feels like to be held. To nourish ourselves. To be inspired.
These retreats have become sacred moments in my life. They remind me why I do this work and who I am beneath the roles. And they remind me that healing is not a one-way street.
A Wildly Creative Way in Oregon
One of the most transformative retreats we attended together was nestled along the Oregon coast with eight extraordinary women. A Wildly Creative Way was hosted by two gifted therapists who specialize in psychodrama and art therapy. They created a safe, playful space where deep connections came easily.
A day at the beach led us to painted on the sand—no plan, just giggles and storytelling. We took a painting class with the brilliant Madeline Tonzi, whose intuitive, nostalgic approach cracked something open in me. Her class wasn’t about technique—it was about discovering what lives inside our dreams.
We made tie-dyed t-shirts, reconnecting with our adolescent creative roots. We told our stories through mini-plays. Each morning began with morning pages—a ritual of stream-of-consciousness writing that cleared the cobwebs and made space for clarity.
This retreat reminded me that creativity is not a luxury. It’s a lifeline. I left with new friendships and a renewed commitment to keep creating.
Most of the women who attended have stayed connected through a monthly online “artist date,” where we take turns leading creative play. Because play matters. Because friendship matters. Because we need each other.
Touch Drawing Gathering on Whidbey Island
Another retreat that lives in my bones was a solo journey to Whidbey Island for a week-long immersion in Touch Drawing. I arrived tired…tender…ready to be quiet.
What I found was a circle of over 25 women, each bringing their own stories, their own longing. We drew with our fingertips on paper laid over ink—no brushes, no barriers. Just touch…just truth. It was raw, beautiful, and unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
I watched owls swoop down on forest trails, their wings whispering something ancient. Incredible gluten-free, dairy-free meals made my body sing. I drummed and danced and cried and laughed. I felt more alive than I had in months.
The retreat was simple—small cabins without A/C, a light curriculum, nourishing meals. Nothing fancy. But the experience was indulgent and filled me up. And I remembered: healing doesn’t always come from talking or doing. Sometimes it comes from being. From movement. From silence. From being witnessed.
Why This Matters
These retreats weren’t vacations. They were initiations