My Accidental Wellness Epiphany (Featuring Caffeine, Crystals and a Gym Bench)

It’s July in Melbourne and everyone has vanished. My clients, my friends, my extended family. Off to Bali, Noosa, Thailand, anywhere with sun and cocktails. I wasn’t offended. People need a break. A chance to reset, reconnect or escape the relatives they just reconnected with over school holidays.

With the gym unusually quiet and no wait for coffee, I sat with my morning latte and had what I can only describe as a mildly profound moment. Maybe this winter migration north wasn’t such a bad idea. Maybe it was my turn.

I started Googling. Tropical beaches, yoga retreats, eco glamping with goat meditation. Within minutes I was spiralling. The options were endless. I couldn’t pick a destination, so I asked myself a better question. How do I want to feel when I come back?

The answer was obvious. I wanted to feel nourished. Reset. Maybe even glowing from within, like someone who drinks green juice without making a face. Ideally, I’d come back calm and radiant, while everyone else was still jet lagged and regretting that third resort buffet.

I booked a health retreat in Queensland. One week of wellness. I packed light. Some books, some stretchy clothes, my sunny disposition. Off I went, ready to embrace transformation or at least tolerate group breathwork.

Day one, I was all in. Barefoot Qi Gong at sunrise? Absolutely. Breathwork? Inhale. Hold. Regret. Fitball strength, meditation, wellness lectures, even the mysterious nourish tea. I said yes to everything. I was riding high on optimism and herbal infusions.

By day two I was dizzy from breathing too deeply into my chakra and emotionally drained from trying to make meaningful connections with strangers I’d never see again. I felt like a fraud in activewear.

But then day four happened. The retreat staff, with their serene faces and linen pants, had warned me this would happen. You’ll soften. You’ll open. You’ll arrive. Ugh. They were right.

It hit me while half listening to a lecture on self soothing. Everything they were preaching, all these shiny wellness pillars, were things I already did. Clean eating. Strength training. Early nights. Listening to my body. I didn’t need to become anything. I just needed to give myself permission to do

what I loved.

So I stopped trying to be someone else’s idea of calm and started being mine. I left the lecture halfway through and went hiking up a steep hill instead. While others strolled through the garden naming native plants, I was lifting heavy things in the gym. When the small talk at morning tea got too much, I disappeared to journal in the sun.

And it was brilliant. I had time. Proper time. No cooking, no cleaning, no one needing to know where I was. I hiked, ran, sat in the sun doing my session plans, and took deep breaths on purpose instead of because a voice told me to.

On the final night there was a bonfire ceremony. A little ritual where everyone had to write down something that no longer served them and throw it into the flames. A symbol of release, letting go, starting fresh. I stared at my blank card for a long time. I didn’t want to let go of anything. I love it all. So I wrote, “I release the guilt of not hating anything right now” and tossed it in with flair. It sizzled with satisfaction. I may have also quietly added “and I’m keeping caffeine forever.”

Their mantra, listen to what your body needs and feel no pressure, turned out to be exactly what I needed. Because what my body needed was exactly what I already do. Train hard. Sleep well. Eat like I love myself. Lift heavy. Connect when I want to, retreat when I need to.

I came back exactly as promised. Reset. Recharged. Renourished. But the biggest shift was this. I didn’t need to find a better version of my life. I just needed to zoom out and see it clearly.

Turns out my home, my gym, my clients, my everyday routines — they’re already my retreat. And the fact that I built that life without even needing nourish tea? That’s the glow up.