A Weekend of Healing, Connection, and Sisterhood: Reflections from Our Women’s Retreat

At Be Well Therapy, our retreats are more than just a getaway, they are a sanctuary for healing, connection, and transformation. When women gather in safe, nurturing spaces, something sacred happens: walls come down, hearts open, and stories begin to flow.

After attending our recent Women’s Retreat, Sanja put pen to paper to reflect on her experience. What she shared moved us deeply, and we knew her words would resonate far beyond the weekend.

This is her story.
This is the power of showing up.
This is the magic of Be Well.

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There is a storyteller that lives within my being. It lives in my mind, in the language I use, in the energy that moves through me. Storytelling is how we connect, authentic, honest, and vulnerable storytelling is how we heal.

When a woman shows up fully, openly, and in acceptance of herself, she gives other women permission to do the same. The self-judgment we carry seeps into everything we do and into all our relationships. But when we begin to understand ourselves, our patterns of pain, abandonment, fear, scarcity, and the low frequencies that leave us feeling unworthy, we start to meet those places with compassion. We begin to accept the “broken” parts, the ones that once felt abandoned, unlovable, not enough.

When a woman reaches a level of self-awareness and begins to understand her power, she becomes a space-holder. The compassion she’s learning to extend to herself becomes something she can authentically extend to others.

This weekend was magical.

A sisterhood formed—fifteen women from all walks of life, different ages, races, and backgrounds. What we had in common was cancer: thirteen survivors and two caregivers. But what we shared was something deeper, a sacred urgency. We’ve each been given the kind of life lesson that cracks you open. We know tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. One phone call can change everything. And so, we live with a different perspective. We crave inner peace, creativity, self-expression, and deep connections. Glimmers of joy are what we live for. We fear death like everyone else, but for us, the fear hovers over every appointment, every scan, every lab test.

In Bosnia, we have a saying: “Smrt je bliža nego jaka za vratom.” Death is closer than the collar around your neck.

When we’re healthy, chasing success and hustling through capitalism’s grind, we forget about dying. We move as if we’ll live forever, chasing, striving, stressing, doing everything but truly living. But now, we have a gentle nudge that asks: Does this really matter? Is it worth my energy? Does it bring me joy? If I were dying, is this what I’d be doing?

And still, we forget. Some of us go through recurrences before we finally start living for ourselves, not from fear or survival, but from the fullness of the soul. It takes practice to shed those old patterns, to drop from head to heart, to live with presence.

When the walls came down, and connection flowed, we felt safe.

As Gabor Maté says, “Safety is not the absence of fear. It is the presence of connection.”

Our lives hadn’t changed. The fear was still there. But the sisterhood created a kind of shield. The mandala altar worked—cracking our hearts wide open. As Rumi said, “The wound is where the light enters you.” Our wounds connected us. Our scars became sacred.

We talked about grief, generational trauma, domestic abuse, injustice, parenthood, divorce. We laughed about weddings, parties, puddles, and travel. We spoke of books, art and spirituality. We laughed for hours. We acted and reenacted, we hugged, we cried. We held each other. We were seen. We were accepted.

Every woman touched my heart. Their beauty, kindness, strength, creativity, courage, openness, and authenticity—it all changed me. I’m forever impacted by who they are and by the synchronicities that brought us together exactly as we were.

I arrived with an open heart.

I’ve done deep work on my pain, grief, shame, and anger. This month is the lightest I’ve felt in years. Cancer, followed by COVID and all the treatments, had pushed me and my nervous system into a state of hypervigilance—fight or flight, the home of my inner child. But for the first time, I feel safe.

And I know now, it’s because of Divine Connections.

That was the closing ceremony word I chose. Of course, I picked two (the storyteller in me loves words!)

These divine connections are why I feel safe. I’m surrounded by people who see me, who support me, and who continue to enter my life with grace.

I was present. I listened with my heart. I saw the hearts of these women, saw their beauty shining through their entire being. I felt accepted, and I extended that same acceptance.

The work I’ve done helps me drop into presence. When I show up from my heart instead of my scared ego, my listening deepens. I even see more clearly. I recognize the masks, the people-pleasing, the silence, the suffering, that once protected us. And I take mine off, again and again, every time I remember.

This weekend, I practiced mindfulness and presence. It was safe to do so, encouraged by the group and within myself. And I felt it. The inner critic, the voice that feared sounding stupid or saying something wrong, finally quieted. I listened with my whole being. The light in me saw their light. The darkness in me saw theirs, too. And the more darkness we brought into the light, the lighter we became.

We cried and laughed, deeper each time.

Every yoga session ended with the sound of Om, and every Namaste echoed longer. Our heads bowed to each other—the student and the teacher—seen, recognized, forever changed with gratitude.

I left empowered. Encouraged to keep learning, healing, and sharing. So many women told me how much my presence meant to them—my stories, my kindness, my energy. That’s what lights me up. That’s what gives my life purpose. I matter. My life matters. My story matters. And so does yours.

We are each a miracle. We are the creation of life’s longing for itself. My purpose is to remember that and to reflect that truth back to others.

Every time someone tells me something I said, did, or simply was had a positive impact on them, my heart grows. My aura expands. My light shines brighter. The rocky road (and every version of me) was worth it.

Sanja BC (Before Cancer) and Sanja now are both part of the woman I’m becoming. My wounds are where my light enters. My healing is where I offer that light to the world.

I’m beyond grateful for the magical synchronicities of last weekend, and for every struggle that was part of my cocoon phase. We each face our own darkness before we discover the light that’s always lived inside us.

I am inspired.

This new moon, I feel a frequency I’ve never felt before.

I wept for every story I heard. I cried the ancient tears of women before us. I carried our rage, our sorrow, our deep betrayal and I prayed for our collective healing.

I believe in my soul that healed women change the world.

Healed women remember their power and rise with strength, courage, nurture, and grace. Healed women end generational trauma. Healed women raise healthy, intuitive, loving children. And yes, healed women lift each other. Healed women heal our men. Healed women heal the world.

And the world needs us.