HItting my 50s, I felt like a child falling off a roundabout. Winded, hands and knees skinned, the world spun around me, making not one scrap of sense.
When I look back, the seeds were probably sown a decade earlier. A tough pregnancy and birth of my only child, a son, left me battling chronic insomnia and postnatal depression. Moving to the countryside without any friends or family around wasn’t the smartest plan, either.
Like so many women, I limped through my 40s in a fog of exhaustion. I was working too hard; writing self-help books (the irony!); looking after not only my son, but also my elderly mother; and trying to keep my marriage going. I figured I just needed to get on with it. My doctor prescribed the antidepressant Seroxat and sleeping pills, but I hated the way they made my brain foggy and slow. I ended up self-medicating with alcohol instead.
Jane Alexander (pictured) became obsessed with attending retreats after her 50th birthday
There’s something about coming into our 50s, something about that brutal half-century milestone, that brings everything into sharp focus. On my 50th birthday, I looked in the mirror and actually gasped. Who was this woman with the dead eyes, her jaw clenched tight? I didn’t just feel shocked, I felt embarrassed. I’d written more than 20 books on health and wellbeing; I shouldn’t have been in this mess.
Then one day I was talking to a woman who had started a no-frills retreat on a Greek island.
‘I think you should come,’ she said. ‘You need some time just to be — to do nothing.’
I burst into tears. ‘Don’t cry,’ she said. ‘Just book that flight.’
And that was how my obsession began. I joined the hordes of ‘wellness tourists’, a breed that has spawned an industry of spas, retreats and healing holidays worth £415 billion globally.
From draconian detoxes to luxurious pamperfests, I’ve visited around 50 retreats in seven years, most of which hosted me as a journalist. Some were sublime; others pleasant enough; a few were grim.
Here are the ones that were truly memorable — not always for the right reasons — plus what I’ve learned (sometimes the hard way) about what to look for when choosing a retreat of your own . . .
Having visited around 50 retreats in seven years, Jane shared her advice on choosing a retreat
DIY GREEK RETREAT
Serenity Retreat, Nikiana, Lefkada, Greece. From £479 for a week, food not included, serenityretreat.co.uk
I arrived at Serenity in a tangled fury at my shipwreck of a life, then I opened the French doors of my flat and there it was — the sea, just a few metres away. I took a big breath and told myself to stop being a stroppy cow.
Serenity is the ultimate do-it-yourself retreat. You can take part in meditation sessions and walks; be sociable in the evenings with fellow retreaters; bob off on a boat trip; or do absolutely nothing all week.
After the welcome meeting, I noticed a book on the seat next to me — Loving What Is by Byron Katie. ‘Whose is this?’ I asked. Kim Bennett, the retreat’s founder, raised an eyebrow: ‘Looks like it’s meant for you, doesn’t it?’
I rolled my eyes but started reading. Katie had suffered a total breakdown before having her breakthrough. It put my life in stark perspective.
Never make assumptions, says Katie. Question every belief: is it true? Is it absolutely true?
Jane visited Zenways (pictured) in Manchester for an experience which aims to help you recognise your ‘true self’
I met great people and nobody tried to read my chakras. Mainly I sat and breathed in time with the waves — in, out, in, out. Bliss.
Is it worth it? Yes! I came back free of a load of thoughts that weren’t doing me any good. I’m still using techniques I learned there, seven years on.
A BIT LIKE BORSTAL
Zenways Zen Intensive, weekend retreats at various UK venues. No cost but donations are encouraged. Accommodation and food cost around £240, zenways.org
After the simple bliss of Greece, this felt like a borstal. The centre was a (Christian) monastery near Manchester. The building was grey and gloomy and as I walked in, the aroma of boiled cabbage hit me. My bedroom was a tiny monk’s cell, with a communal bathroom down the corridor.
Zenways was set up by Julian Daizan Skinner. He’s the kind of guy you instinctively like and trust. Though did I really trust him to get me through the Zen equivalent of hard labour?
No question, this retreat is tough. You start at 6am and don’t finish until 11pm. Self-enquiry is the mission and it involves sitting in pairs asking just one question: who am I?
Jane says she still meditates the way she was taught at Zenways (pictured) but wouldn’t recommend the retreat for the faint-hearted
The idea is that you get beyond your thoughts and recognise your ‘true self’ — Buddha-like ‘enlightenment’, the full-on cosmic consciousness malarkey.
Outside sessions we kept silent. Books and devices weren’t allowed; writing was forbidden. Two hours in and I had to fight the urge to run into the road and flag down a car to rescue me.
Yet, at some point on the second afternoon, something shifted. As I listened to people — their struggles, their sadness — my irritation started to ease. I became entranced with each one.
Yes, I went full-on hippy, hearts-in-my-eyes, falling in love with absolutely everyone. Did I find enlightenment? No.
Is it worth it? I’m still plugging away at who I am. But I still meditate the way I was taught there. It’s certainly not for the faint-hearted, although it’s open to complete beginners — some of whom did far better than the more experienced meditators.
SEXUAL HEALING
Living Tantra, near Glastonbury, Somerset. A week costs around £920 all-inclusive (depending on venue), janday.com
I had always been fascinated by Tantra, the sexuality practice that hit the headlines after Sting bragged it led to eight-hour lovemaking sessions with his wife.
I wasn’t after new sex ideas. I just wanted to conquer my own body hang-ups and I figured a Tantra retreat might help.
At the centre I was greeted by a young guy with flowing hair and a beard, clad entirely in red. He was ominously reminiscent of the man in the illustrations for the Seventies book The Joy Of Sex.
The retreat was led by Jan Day, a tall, striking woman, again wearing all-red (even her hair is bright red), and her husband, Frieder, a grumpy German.
The retreat was 50:50 men to women and everyone seemed perfectly nice and normal, in fact a little too sensible. My concerns about the retreat being a magnet for the supersexed fell away, as I realised it mainly attracted people who were lonely and touch-deprived. In fact, far from being about wild sex, it was much more about finding your boundaries and learning what gives you pleasure.
Even so, I shook with fear on the first day and spent the next three wanting to run for the hills. But by day five, things fell into place. Scary strangers turned into warm friends. Fear turned into curiosity. Terror turned into pleasure.
Is it worth it? There are several Tantra retreats and some of them are deeply dodgy. However, if you’re drawn to try Tantra, you’ll be in safe hands with Jan.
YOGA IN THE DESERT
Yoga retreat, the Gobi Desert, Outer Mongolia. From £1,995 a week including accommodation, reclaimyourself.co.uk
Reclaim Your Self has made a name for holding yoga retreats in unusual locations. Home is a temporary yurt camp, surrounded by rocky outcrops.
I fell in love with my yurt, with its central fire. Sadly I didn’t fall in love with the yoga. Jivamukti yoga is nigh-on gymnastic. My body simply refused to do what it was told. Panting and red-faced, I was plunged straight back into childhood PE humiliation.
Jane found herself in tears whilst attending the Reclaim Your Self retreat (pictured)
I staggered out the class, tears streaming, and into the landscape. Lying on a slab of rock, I felt my bleakness leach into the stone. ‘Get a grip,’ I told myself. This place was awe-inspiring and I was letting my petty angst get in the way of the joy of it.
After that, I did what I could with the yoga and was entranced every night as the stars laid on a crazy light show.
Is it worth it? Mongolia is incredible — definitely worth visiting. I wish I’d worried less about my lack of yoga prowess.
INTENSE BUT IT WORKS
The Penninghame Process, Newton Stewart, Scotland. A week all-inclusive costs £1,595, penninghame.org
Mongolia made me realise I had insecurities from my childhood, so I took a 12-hour coach ride to The Penninghame Process, a week of intense psychotherapy. You have to fill in a questionnaire, write the story of your life and have a one-to-one interview (in person or over Skype) before you’re accepted.
It is held at co-founder Ray Butler’s home, a sprawling mansion in stunning grounds. Accommodation is in the old stable block — comfortable Scandi-style rooms.
Psychotherapist Rosie Manton is the perfect foil, skipping round in floaty garb. But don’t underestimate her — she’s wildly talented.
Jane highly recommends The Penninghame Process which helped her with depression
Ruminating on past hurts I cried so hard I burst capillaries around my eyes; I screamed so loudly I lost my voice. There are a lot of support staff (it’s pretty much one-on-one) and they’re compassion incarnate.
The techniques sometimes seem bonkers (re-enacting your birth, anyone?) but they work. Amid the emotional outpourings, I discovered a childlike joy and sense of acceptance.
It was the start of kicking my lifelong tango with depression off the dancefloor.
Is it worth it? I can’t recommend it enough. If it were on the NHS, we would have far fewer unhappy people.
THE TRUTH HURTS
Radical Honesty, Orivesi, Finland. Five days including food costs around £450, tuuliasyvanen.com
In Scotland, I’d seen a book called Radical Honesty. Its central premise is that lying and withholding cause stress and prevent intimacy.
Only the total truth will do. Tuulia Syvanen, a life coach, talked to me on Skype before allowing me on the retreat.
She suggested I take a shorter weekend retreat in the UK, but after Penninghame I felt invincible. I wanted a deeper challenge, so I headed into the Finnish wilderness for a dose of extreme truth-telling.
Jane advises people with low self-esteem to avoid attending Radical Honesty (pictured)
We stayed at her family holiday cottage by a pristine lake. Tuulia had warned me it was basic, but I hasn’t realised quite how basic. The loo was a bucket in the outhouse. Our bathroom was the sauna and the lake.
Unusually for a retreat, there were more men than women, and many seemed pretty angry.
Radical Honesty is uncompromising — it’s not enough to feel annoyed by someone, you have to ‘resent’ them for their behaviour. The first time someone spat out how much he resented me, I doubled up as if I’d been stabbed in the gut. My heart was pounding and I don’t think I lost that rabbit-in-headlights feeling while there.
I learned that people could yell at me and I could survive. But should you really tell someone you find them a crashing bore? Is it wise to tell a young woman she is ugly? I found myself increasingly uneasy about the whole approach.
Is it worth it? I tried the honest approach when I got home, but shied away from knowingly hurting people’s feelings. If you’re in any way lacking in self-esteem, I’d steer well clear.
A REAL BLESSING
Devi Blessings at RAAS Devigarh, Rajasthan, India, raasdevigarh.com. Five-day all-inclusive stay from £2,350, healingholidays.co.uk
Finland left me feeling deeply vulnerable. Also, I’d reached a pivotal point in my life. My husband and I were separating and selling our house. So, as I left for the airport, I said goodbye to my home for the last time.
I arrived at the retreat, set in a boutique hotel in Rajasthan, feeling exhausted. I was greeted by a shower of rose petals and gentle smiles. My suite made me gasp — deeply luxurious and serene. I lay back on the huge bed and fell into a deep sleep.
The Devi Blessings retreat was devised by Denise Leicester, the founder of cult beauty brand Ila. She’s run retreats for years and knows what it takes to create a cocooning atmosphere.
This retreat is all about coming back to oneself through love and compassion, so it’s perfect for fiftysomething women in search of their souls.
Everything was blissful — from the nurturing spa rituals, through the kind, grounding yoga and the soft meditation to the warmth of the staff.
I soaked it all in. It felt like being born anew. Pure magic.
Is it worth it? Yes, it’s very pricey, but I’m still feeling the effects a year on.
TO RETREAT OR NOT
For some women, one retreat is enough to overhaul their life. For others, the holiday ‘high’ people often experience tends to fade more quickly than a tan.
The best retreats, of course, don’t pretend to be quick fixes. They give you the tools you need, then tell you it’s up to you to do the work.
Certainly, my seven years of retreats has taught me masses about myself and other people. I am more in touch with my feelings, more secure, more at peace with my soul. And no, I don’t care how woo-woo that sounds.