Thoughts On Healing

Back in October 2015, I applied and was chosen to attend a week long intensive therapy retreat for Veterans with PTSD. At that time, I had been in group therapy for over 7 years. I’d done experiential work which would singe the eyebrows of most people. Yet, having done the work was the only way I was prepared to take the leap of faith and say yes to that unique opportunity. If I had the chance to go any earlier, I would never have gone. The timing was perfect.

The trip was terrifying to me: in a way, it had the flavor of going away to Basic Training. I was getting on a plane, my fare paid for, and flying to somewhere I’d never been, to spend time with people I didn’t know. As it turned out, it was the single most healing week of my life. All the work I’d done leading up to that point prepared me for what was to come.

The place is called Boulder Crest Retreat located in Bluemont, Virginia. (You can read all about it at bouldercrestretreat.org .) When I arrived at Dulles airport, a representative was there to pick me up, along with another woman I’d be spending the week with. We were driven in a van to the property. As we entered through the gate, I felt transported. This was nothing close to what I had pictured in my mind. Large cabins, rolling hills on a huge property. I was assigned a cabin with 2 other women veterans. There were 6 of us who attended the retreat.

The program was carefully thought out: art therapy, equine therapy, meditation, yoga, group therapy, EMDR, archery, kayaking and more. I found the lost part of myself at Boulder Crest that week – the part lost to PTSD, to trauma, to depression. This place gives veterans a taste of the best of the military, which some of us didn’t experience.

When I graduated from Basic Training I was bursting with pride. Through many of my experiences while active duty, I lost that feeling. The week at Boulder Crest brought it back to me. Through equine therapy, I felt myself return – it came as a surge of energy, a remembrance, which rose up from the earth, through my feet, into my heart, flowing out the top of my head. The earth literally moved beneath me as my spirit returned to me. My Warrior Sisters were in the distance, and I could see and hear them cheering for me, throwing support in a way I’d never experienced. Smiling faces of 5 women I’d learn to trust in such a short time. They didn’t know it at the time I don’t think, but they were filling up the aching hole which woundedness had left in my soul. The magnificent horse we worked with was Clayton. His gentle nature, his calm assurance, brought me back home to myself. Thank you, Clayton. You are always in my heart.

Kayaking made me nervous. I was scared I would capsize. As it turns out, I did. The only one to do it, it was a moment I will forever be grateful for. I now call any moment that appears insurmountable a “kayak moment.” One of the sad things that stems from my military service is … shame. I won’t go into the why of it, but I can say that I wore shame like a piece of clothing. Any mistake I made, any misstep, brought up burning shame. The day I capsized was well into my week at Boulder Crest. I had many experiences to look to as proof that I wasn’t who or what I thought I was. I was stronger than I knew. When I was in the water, trying to stay afloat, I panicked. In a flash, Warrior Sisters and therapists were surrounding me, helping me get back into the kayak. I felt the old familiar shame – this was a spectacular mishap. Yet something miraculous happened in that moment, right after climbing back into my kayak: I realized I had a choice to do it differently this time. I could choose to not feel shame. I could choose to look at myself in a new way. As my Warrior Sisters surrounded my kayak, asking me if I was ok, I struggled inside to rise up and do it differently. When I said that I was ok, everyone else was happy to move on. I moved on with them. I chose not to let myself be debilitated by shame. Instead, I chose to rise into freedom.

The relationships I formed with my Warrior Sisters changed me. I found 5 other women who had struggled like me for various reasons during and after our time in the military. This changed me in a fundamental way. After I received my honorable discharge from the Air Force, I avoided all contact with anything and anyone connected to the military. In fact, I didn’t even consider myself a veteran. So many women of my era still don’t. Connecting with these 5 women, brave and strong and true, reminded me that veterans are a unique population. Active duty – military culture, shared experiences of being broken, facing fear with grit and determination, group mind – is unique. There is nothing like it in civilian life. Nothing.

One of the most profound experiences during my week at Boulder Crest Retreat was learning Transcendental Meditation. I had very little experience with meditation with the exception of what we did in group therapy back home. At Boulder Crest, we practiced daily. Along with everything else I learned that week, I took TM home with me, and practiced it.

The week after I came home, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was my Boulder Crest experience which carried me through the following months. I moved through the entire experience so differently than I might have otherwise. I returned home remembering my bravery and courage. I leaned on that remembrance heavily during those hard months. I chose to make the entire experience a “kayak moment.”

Ironically, having only learned it, I stopped practicing TM during treatment. It would only be after I healed from surgery that I would begin again. It is a life altering practice. I was completely different when I meditated. I don’t care about the science of it, even though that is fascinating to me. I care about the results I experience. I’m calmer, clearer, more solid when I meditate.

Healing is an ongoing thing for me. I’m growing my spirituality. I’m growing my meditation practice again. I’m choosing to trust that the world around me isn’t a dangerous place where bad people lurk around every corner. I’m choosing to live with an open heart. That doesn’t mean that everything is sunshine and rainbows though – I can still be triggered, I still have nightmares, PTSD reactions to things. I still suffer from severe insomnia. Yet, I choose to walk in the world differently today. I choose to meet those moments of reaction which are of my lesser nature, which stem from the tragic story of my past, differently today. My dreams still overtake me unbidden but my waking hours are mine to live mindfully. As Boulder Crest Retreat urges its attendees: I want to Struggle Well.

For me, Boulder Crest Retreat was a bright star in my healing. A Nova, if you will. It continues to shine brightly for me. It will shine in my heart always.