It’s been almost a month since our fourth Free to Be Conference. I would say fourth “annual” conference, but I don’t like the word annual. Too much commitment. 🙂 It’s always been a new decision every year.
Last year, the conference was… well, it was honestly painful in a lot of ways. The program itself went well, I think. All the talks, workshops, etc pretty much went off without a hitch. But the hotel hated us and threatened to kick out our group on the very first day, there were behavior issues, and there was personal … ickiness. (Ickiness, by the way, is the technical term.) We were very certain that we weren’t going to do it again. Except:
We had to. We needed a do-over. We needed a Hail Mary. We chose a new hotel, looked at it as a fresh start, and hoped for the best.
Still, I didn’t know what to expect. I really didn’t. After 2016, I almost didn’t want to have any expectations. Registration was highly stressful this year because so many people waited till the last minute. (Was it a mistake to do it again? Was no one going to register? Were we going to end up in the poor house because of this?) And then, one month before the conference the bottom fell out of my own life, so it was all I could do to keep afloat, let alone think about anything conference related.
But then it came – funny thing about planning things like that. They come whether you’re ready or not – and it was… well, it was magic. I honestly could not have asked for a better conference. Or attendees. Or experience. Were there tiny wrinkles? Sure. Were there little issues, complaints, comparisons to other conferences? Of course. That’s all part and parcel of hosting an event for 400 people. But overall it was largely, and overwhelmingly… OVERWHELMINGLY… positive. And the amount of healing it brought? Ridiculous. It was truly a redemptive year for us.
And the thing is, we don’t do it for us. We do it for the money (KIDDING! We don’t make any money to speak of.) We do it for the attendees. We create the vision and the framework; the speakers, the funshop hosts, and the volunteers bring it to life; and then the whole thing is gifted to the attendees, to do with what they wish. This year though… this year, it was gifted back to us. And it was beautiful and it was healing, and it was honestly one of the most positive and empowering feelings I’ve ever experienced.
People keep asking if we’re all recovered. People have actually been asking since a few days after it ended. And by all means, I feel good, and I feel peaceful. But recovered? Well, no, I’m not. Mike, being the more logical, business-minded of the two of us, says that he’s back to normal. A couple weeks back to work and he was good to go. But me… I invest way too much emotionally to be recovered in a couple of weeks. Plus, it was a year’s worth of blood, sweat, and tears. You don’t just get over that in a couple of weeks. Especially when life doesn’t stop in order for you to do so… when you have to get right back to school, and life, and appointments, and running kids around.
I know that just attending the conference is exhausting and requires its own recovery. For real. We’ve been on that end of it, too. A four day event is no joke, no matter how smooth it is. You’re running around like crazy, you’re sleep deprived, you’re not eating right. But it’s still not quite the same thing as planning, executing, and running said event. (Um, on that note, my apologies to those I may or may not have grumbled to – I hope good natured-ly – when they complained to me about how tired they were. Do you know about the ring theory of venting? Ever since I learned about it, my venting mantra is “Never vent IN”. I miss the mark sometimes I’m sure. But I try. Really really hard.)
And now it’s been a month, and I’m still working on re-entry. A weekend at my cabin would be lovely, but … real life beckons. And so, rest and recovery is happening in the pauses. In the quiet mornings on the days when I don’t have anyplace to be. With my happy playlist, and a venti cup of coffee in the car. With a good book and a long bath. In the stolen meditative moments of chopping vegetables for dinner, or washing my hands longer than necessary in the bathroom. In the smiles brought by a rapid text exchange with a trusted friend. In the hibernating.
In the breathing. Always in the breathing.
I will rest, and I will breathe, and then I’ll be ready to do it again for 2018. In the meantime, I will watch this. And I’ll remember. xo