I flew half way around the world to Thailand so I could deal with problems far closer to home  

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What do you do when you’re coming to the end of your 50s, weigh much more than you ever thought you could, and have lost your purpose in life?

Seven months ago, that was me. I was tearful, depressed and close to despair at my inability to stop eating and start exercising. Underpinning it all was a lifetime of wondering what I’d done wrong as a daughter.

My relationship with my mother had always been tricky. In the grand scheme of things, I’m sure we both loved one another, but in the everyday scheme of things, we didn’t seem to like each other very much.

It boiled down to a clash of personalities and her inability to see me as an adult, which was further complicated by the death of my beloved father 30 years ago. All of this bothered me immensely before her death in November 2017, after which, it became clear to me that I was suffering from depression.

It’s one thing to feel in need of some kind of therapy, but flying halfway around the world to get it is a difficult and daunting prospect. Having never done things the easy way, I chose to do the latter.

As my 60th year on the planet loomed into view in March 2019, I packed my bags and flew alone to Thailand for a 30-day Lifestyle Change Programme designed to get my mind and body back on track.

Ironically, the woman who made it financially possible for me to go (by leaving me a cash inheritance) was also the person whose actions I needed to come to terms with in the first place: my mother.

My depression wasn’t all on her, though. It had been exacerbated by being made redundant from a job I loved in 2015, the effects of which rolled on for a number of years – including a loss of financial independence and self-esteem, increasing isolation, and boredom.

It also seemed as if I was on the wrong side of 50 to be considered for any worthwhile job with my age and experience equalling ‘expensive’ in many future employer’s eyes. All these were classic indicators for depression to creep in, although I didn’t realise this at first.

Depression setting in

It was like a sunny day that slowly gave way to a storm, gradually darkening my world until it felt like I was unworthy of anything good and of interest to no-one. I applied for jobs and heard nothing. I offered to work as a volunteer in a book shop, they didn’t get back to me either.

I slept, I ate, I did nothing except the crossword. The dog remained un-walked, the silence grew louder and housework was ignored. All of this, coupled with an ongoing, long-established comfort eating habit led to my weight steadily climbing and my confidence declining.

And that’s without the hormonal backlash of the menopause hitting at exactly the wrong time.

I became angry, unhealthy, and stuck dealing with painful osteoarthritis in both knees. My poor, long-suffering husband Steve never quite knew what mood he was coming home to. My kind, empathetic daughters were adept at deflecting my tearful outbursts with hugs and reassuring words.

After taking a long, hard look at myself, I decided what made me most miserable was my weight, and I had to tackle it. My inheritance was the key that unlocked the possibility for me.

Having tried various diets - Atkins, Slimming World, Weight Watchers, Dukan, Cambridge, Lighter Life, and many others - I couldn’t face the days/weeks/months of misery and self-denial they required. I craved a quick fix to kickstart my mental and physical recovery, which is when I came up with the idea of a retreat.

I knew it had to be for more than a few days or the changes wouldn’t stick, but finding something affordable for a month proved tricky. I powered up my woefully underused laptop and began Googling health retreats and spas in Europe.

There was plenty of choice if you had megabucks like the celebs I’d read enjoyed this sort of holiday, but I didn’t. But if I travelled to the Far East, my budget would go further and I was less likely to duck out and come home early.

Long-haul for an overhaul

The 30-day Lifestyle Change Programme was exactly what I needed and, after chatting to them, I booked a healing holiday at the Absolute Sanctuary Spa on the tropical island of Koh Samui, Thailand.

Cue jabs, visa clarification, urgent sportswear shopping, and angst at leaving the dog. Supported by my utterly wonderful husband and best friend of 36 years, I paid up and organised everything within three weeks.

A month away was going to be hard - just driving to Heathrow with Steve and my eldest daughter, Grace, proved hellish. My stomach was churning and I wanted nothing more than to return home to a packet of biscuits and a sweet tea.

But my stubborn streak and determination to get myself together got me through Terminal 5 and onto the plane with a mix of excitement and dread. I had never been away on my own for this length of time before.

The next day, I arrived at the spa and began my campaign of self-discovery and rehabilitation. I was checked-in, weighed, scanned, and assessed until I felt so thoroughly ashamed of myself that I knew the only way was up.

My four-week schedule was a mix of detox, yoga, core suspend (what the hell?), reformer pilates (little did I know), gym workouts, and spa treatments which included sauna, massage, and – heaven help me – colonic irrigation.

The first seven days were a gentle balance of cleansing and detox, with two vegan meals a day, supplemented by raw juices, a green ‘shot’, hot broth, and the occasional liver flush concoction.

There wasn’t much exercise on the schedule, bar a spot of swimming in the irresistible pool, and we were encouraged to get plenty of rest. I also began a programme of wellness sessions which covered nutrition, relationships, lifestyle and wellbeing advice.

Weeks two and three were the ‘transform’ part of the programme, where exercise ramps up, along with weight loss treatments like colonic irrigation – I’ll spare you the mortifying details – sauna and lymphatic massages.

This is where the programme unravelled slightly for me. There were many yoga classes to choose from, but almost all of them were for experienced practitioners. Poles apart from my stiff arthritic knees that made even getting down to the floor painful.

The wonderful yoga teacher eventually took time to go through some achievable yoga moves with me on a one-to-one basis, so I felt more confident in doing the more relaxing, ‘slow’ classes, but these were few and far between.

I discovered the reformer ‘machine’ was a contraption with weights, pulleys, straps and a foot bar, all of which were adaptable but positioned close to the floor. Again, difficult for me due to my uncooperative joints.

But everyone else in the 10-person classes seemed to be a size 6 and completely at home using the equipment, which only served to make me feel more ill-at-ease. I quickly dropped the classes: too out of my league.

Core suspend seemed to involve hanging from the ceiling on ropes, supporting your own weight. I took one look and promptly fled. My refuge was the gym where, with the help of a wonderfully supportive and encouraging instructor, I finally felt I was achieving something.

Coming undone

The real game-changer for me was the much-needed programme of one-to-one wellness, coaching and lifestyle sessions, designed to help me tackle the issues around my relationship with my mother.

As these progressed, the tangled mess of emotions I’d hidden deep down in my soul came tumbling out.

I questioned why we’d never enjoyed that lovely mother and daughter bond so many seem to share. Truth was, my mother and I were entirely incompatible. She was insensitive, I was sensitive. She was unemotional and I was sentimental. It was no wonder we didn’t get on.

While talking through my problems over beautiful sunsets in Thailand, I realised affection of any form had been something my mother had been uncomfortable with and yet, it hadn’t stopped me fruitlessly trying to win her approval for most of my life.

One thing that did connect for me on the retreat too, was how this fractious relationship with my mother related to how I ate.

Combing through my memories of her, I saw a pattern. The only way my mother expressed her love for us was through food. She took great pride in feeding my sister and I ‘proper’ home-cooked meals from scratch. No ready-meals, no convenience food or processed nastiness passed our lips.

Later, she took an obsessive interest in what I fed my children, continuing to discourage wastefulness and applauding a ‘clean’ plate. Suddenly, it wasn’t difficult to see how this all fit in with my dysfunctional eating habits.

But in Thailand, with a team of wellness experts and nutritionists, I learnt a new way of eating: hardly any carbs, lots of fresh vegetables and salad, small portions, eating only when hungry, and absolutely no snacking.

There wasn’t any alcohol and after the first week, I drank only water (plus one small coffee each morning with honey, for energy), feeling much better for it.

All the while, my emotions were teased out and listened to, unpicked and repurposed, given credence and direction, along with practical help. I was able to talk about my mother and our relationship with people who took my word and were only interested in listening, empathising and supporting.

They let me draw my own conclusions - some were startling, others soothing, but all were revelations. It was a relief and a sadness when I realised many other women experience the same warped mother-daughter dynamic I had.

I also realised my mother’s robust opinions had bothered me more and more until being around her had made me feel anxious and tongue-tied. I couldn’t tell when she might say something unkind and hurtful and had reached a conclusion somewhere along the way that she was likely judging me, harshly and often. It was no wonder my self-esteem was in shreds.

A new dawn

Something else that struck me in my month-long journey of self-discovery, was how her lack of emotion and unwillingness to see me as an adult had prolonged the intense grief I’d felt for my father – a man I was just getting to enjoy as an adult when he passed away suddenly at 66.

This jumble of grief and resentment was something I worked through and came to terms with during my stay. I wrote my mother a letter, explained how her behaviour and attitude had made me feel, and vomited all my anger onto that scrap of paper. Then I took a match to it and set it ablaze.

It might sound cliché but watching my words go up in smoke helped me literally and figuratively put my issues with my mother to rest, while saying a final goodbye to the memory of my father whose untimely death had felt so unfair for such a long time.

On the last evening, I sent a message on an ‘offering’ across the pool, similar but more environmentally friendly than letting off a Chinese Lantern. It was a simple but significant nod to the journey of forgiveness and understanding I’d been on.

I felt really proud that I’d not only survived a month, but achieved tangible benefits for mind, body, and soul. I wasn’t constantly hungry or in need of a stiff drink; I’d lost 21lb and gained both muscle and self-respect in equal measure.

My last few days in Koh Samui were filled with a marvellous mix of trips out. I was given a driver to take me on a solo day-long island tour. I also went to a local temple with offerings for the monks and received a blessing. Plus, I indulged in a manicure and pedicure, facials, lymphatic drainage massages, and a cookery lesson.

By this time, I was more than ready to return. With the help of the wonderful staff at the retreat, I’d achieved what I set out to do: lose weight, recalibrate my emotions, forgive those who needed forgiving, and rediscover the old, self-confident and independent person I had once been.

In the serenity of that tropical island, I had finally come to terms with losing my dad and found a way to move on from the difficulties I’d experienced with my mum.

I arrived home ready to turn my tanned and much-more-optimistic face to the future again. Finally!

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