By HELEN RAZER
There are not many things at which I excel but I’m an absolute boss at despair. It’s tricky to match my talent for feeling overworked, underappreciated and/or taken-for-granted. Or, at least, I thought it was until I spent a week in the oddly comforting company of others who felt just as trapped and exhausted by life’s obstacle race as I did.
Together, we found a way out of the maze. Together, we stopped whining and lightened our load.
Actually, together we also lightened our body mass index. After a week at Gwinganna, I was delighted to find I’d misplaced four kilos. And this, to be honest, is exactly why I’d first nagged Mia to send me to report on a retreat with a name that is whispered by beautiful actresses.
Unable to go on believing that ALL my clothing had shrunk by exactly one-and-a-half sizes in the wash, I committed my self-absorbed self to a week of springtime detox.
As it turned out, I lost a lot more than my fluffy winter coat. I lost my shit, for example, during an afternoon of gestalt therapy. “I LOVE YOU HELEN AND I FORGIVE YOU” I screamed to myself through tears as a lovely counsellor named Justine provided Kleenex and encouraging words. Was this the indulgent act of a middle-class, middle-aged toddler? Almost certainly. Did it help me grow the hell up? You betcha. You come here for the fat loss; you stay for the personal development.