Several weeks before my 50th birthday my husband asked me how I wanted to celebrate.  Was there a new restaurant I was dying to try? What about a party? I had been thinking about it for some time and had my answer ready.

A party was a definite “no”.  I lean a little towards introversion and that side usually wins out as far as celebrations are concerned, at least those in which I am to be the guest of honor. Celebrating five decades on this planet was something I was looking forward to and I was determined to recognize it in a way that was fully in my comfort zone.

As for going out to dinner? I am introverted not irrational, so that was a great big “yes”. Having someone cook for me, then sharing that meal with people I love, is exactly the type of intimate and personal observance I enjoy. But still, there was something lacking. This was a milestone birthday, and I wanted to mark it in a way that was a little more meaningful than a nicely cooked prime rib. To figure out what that might be, I had been asking myself the same question over and over as the big day drew near:

What is something I really love but haven’t had enough of in my life lately?

I’m not going to lie. A great leather moto jacket crossed my mind, as did booking myself a massage (or two), but there was something that loomed larger than anything else. I wasn’t spending enough time in the presence of like-minded women, and it had started to take its toll.

The problem began a few years earlier when we moved cross-country for my husband’s job and we all had to start from scratch in terms of making new friends. It didn’t take long to realize that meeting new people in a new town is not as easy when your kids are middle-schoolers (and your presence is no longer required, or desired, everywhere they go), as when they are younger. Living in suburbia, a decent car ride from most things I enjoy, wasn’t helping either. I’m not saying it was all bad. I had met some potentially great friends, but jobs, schedules and family obligations simply had not allowed us to spend the necessary time together to become close. What I wanted for my birthday, what I needed for my sanity, was more quality female companionship, and a greater, more sustained sense of connection.

That realization, painful as it was to admit out loud, helped me determine what my ideal gift would be: going away for a few days with a small group of women to share laughter, stories and thoughts. I was pretty proud of myself for figuring that out, until I remembered I was living 3,000 miles away from all my closest girlfriends. For various reasons, I couldn’t justify flying east at the time and felt uncomfortable asking them to make a costly and time-consuming trip to me, especially so close to the holidays. A trip also seemed a lot to ask of my relatively new California friends, with whom I was still in the “getting to know you” phase. Yet I knew I was on the right track, and didn’t want to let go of the idea.

My solution arrived in the form of a promotional email for a three-day writing retreat within driving distance from our home. Excited, I signed up without looking too closely at the details, and that is how I, a married, liberal, non-religious mother of two, found myself arriving alone at a convent in northern California the weekend following my 50th birthday. To be accurate it was actually a former convent, but one that held to many of its old ways out of respect for its spiritual roots and former residents. There were, for example, many places set aside for prayer and self-reflection beneath the gaze of saintly statues and devotional artwork. The guest rooms were clean and private but devoid of any luxury. Twin beds with crisp sheets and well-worn blankets shared space with small and simple wooden desks. There was but one item of adornment on the walls of my room: a painting of the baby Jesus being held by the Virgin Mary, who stared at me through sad, foreboding eyes.  

The sparseness of accommodations was matched by a scarcity of noise, as there was a strict silence requirement in place. Talking of any kind was restricted to the room we met in as a group, the dining space, and a few common areas. Using your phone was allowed, but please, only in the parking lot.

If you think this austere experience sounds like an odd fix to my problem, believe me, I hear you, but I was desperate! Anyway, going there was not quite as bold as it appears. I hadn’t received that timely email purely by chance. I received it because I had attended a class led by the same amazing teacher the year before. So while I had no idea who the other participants at this particular event would be, or whether this experience would be as wonderful as the last, I felt strongly that whatever drew me towards this woman and her methods in the first place would attract others looking for similar things. It was a gamble for sure, but it wouldn’t take long to discover if my bet had paid off (and my car was parked right outside if it hadn’t).

Within an hour of arriving I happily found myself in the presence of two women I had met in the previous class I attended, as well as seven others whose stories I was looking forward to hearing. But it wasn’t until our teacher Linda arrived, gave me a hug and told me how glad she was to see me again that I felt myself finally begin to relax. Taking a deep breath I made the decision to jump wholeheartedly into what I hoped would be a rewarding weekend of sisterly alliance.  

Any lingering apprehension I felt melted quickly away as we gathered, wrote, and read together. Conversation flowed easily over the delicious meals we shared, as did our laughter, despite the fact that our talk often turned to weighty issues, and most of us had met only hours before. Perhaps our ability to be so open and forthright with one another had something to do with our anonymity, but I think the more likely scenario is we felt safe in one another’s presence. Linda had set a tone that united us, and through our sharing and willingness to be vulnerable we had, in a sense, walked in one another’s shoes, and seen things through each other’s eyes.

While I don’t think it is possible to gain in three days the depth of closeness and trust that develops naturally over a long and meaningful friendship, I did find what I was looking for that weekend. By the time I got into my car to return home I felt not only connected and grateful to the other women there, but also more comfortable in my own skin. In short, very similar to how I feel after spending time with close girlfriends.  I know through experience, not all attempts at connection have such satisfying results. Some may even set us back a bit. Still, I think it is worth the effort to keep trying, as finding even a little connection can infuse us with the energy and encouragement needed to be who we really are, keep plowing ahead, and draw closer to our full potential. That, and it feels really good.