As I sat down to write this piece, I felt like that innocent little lamb in Sub A who had to tell Ma’am all about her school holiday.

My best holiday ever wasn’t in the tropics, or the Alps, or Iceland, with a volcano around every corner.

I arrived at my destination wearing the obligatory soft airport lounge-approved attire. I had my suitcase and my backpack with me.

My “boarding pass” was a note from my psychiatrist, stating that I was broken and I needed help stat.

As with most breakdowns/meltdowns, mine didn’t happen in one neat moment. It was a slow burn.

I have had so many traumatic losses over the span of my life, that when I told my story to a fellow traveller in this slow lounge of mental health restoration, all she could utter was “Jirre Babes, you’ve been through it, shame”, while sucking on her vape for dear life.

Babes was fully aware of how much was on her plate. Months of insomnia, Excel spreadsheets of responsibilities, and that pressure, after several deaths, to be “fine”, “strong” and “coping so well”.

All while knowing very well that Babes was not coping so well. Babes was in fact so deep down in the mud that she needed a straw to keep on breathing, as if she was snorkelling and looking at kelp forests in Simonstown.

Babes was doing well with this Game of Pretend (GOP). Until she wasn’t.

My breakdown happened so weirdly and low key that I’m embarrassed to give you the details. Just know that I was a mess.

Know that I called my shrink. Know that what I said concerned him enough to give me my boarding pass to my holiday destination.

My only experience of mental retreats up to this point was Valkenberg, where I used to volunteer on Outpatient Day when I lived in Observatory, Cape Town.

Imagine my surprise when I walked into my destination and it was more White Lotus  than Valkenberg.

Soothing voices, soft lighting, greenery and flowers, water features, and the sort of gentle music that makes you want to undress and be in your natural state. Or was that just me?

I was messy, I was honest, and I was exhausted. What did I learn at this fabulous retreat?

• Having a soft structure without any pressure is paramount.
• Be mindful and remember to ground yourself (or touch grass, as the kids say).
• Walk, walk, walk, as much as and as far as you can. Walking cleared my mind and energised me, reminding me that I was a tiny speck in the bigger picture.
• Lounging around and having quiet conversations is where the magic happens. Listening to people and having people listen to you is underrated.
• Gentle stretching is amazing. I’m not going to call it yoga, as what I did was definitely not yoga. But I streeetched!
• I’m an artist when it comes to words, but painting, drawing, and all that always intimidated me. Still, it was fun taking a brush, dipping it in paint, and letting rip. We were finding joy, not perfection!
• Healing doesn’t happen overnight. There is no magic cure. But I healed enough to feel human again, and not this horrid version of me I wanted to part ways with.
• A slower, more steady heartbeat (or a calm farm, as the kids say).
• The noise in my head was just about obliterated. The inside of my brain is totally White Lotus, not screaming banshee.
• I’m giving myself much more grace and being gentle with me.

And what were the rewards I earned from this holiday?

• The super-soft slippers, a coping mechanism for days when the floor is lava and I want to curl up like my cats.
• The tranquil tea bags that I brew in my teapot, as part of my mindfulness ritual.
• Candles, candles, candles. We learnt to make candles, and I’ve been chasing that scent from the lobby and communal room ever since. Whenever life gets chaotic, I can close my eyes and inhale that special scent.
• The gown of love. Nothing feels more like “I’ve got you, Babes”, than a plush, brushed cotton gown.

Remembering the small comforts and sensory cues that helped me stay afloat has set the scene for holidays from now on.

At the risk of sounding like Mariah Carey, all I want this Christmas is what I had on my Best Ever Holiday.