Lying on the massage table at my Balinese retreat, I let out a profound sigh of contentment. Outside, the temperature was a gorgeous 30 degrees, the view beyond my window one of rice fields against a backdrop of distant mountains.
I’d left the UK just over 24 hours earlier, with the rain hammering down and the usual scenes of shouty domestic chaos as my daughter and son prepared to leave for school and my husband got ready for work.
None of that was going to be my problem for an entire blissful month. That was the precise amount of time I’d booked away from home for my solo midlife sabbatical.
Four weeks away from everything that usually ruled my day-to-day life: the endless washing, cooking, cleaning, ironing and taxi-cabbing for my children Zac, 16, and 13-year-old Amara, and husband Steve. I’d even miss some of my son’s GCSEs – always a stressful time, for any family.
I’d booked a my solo midlife sabbatical, Saira Khan says. Four weeks away from everything that usually ruled my day-to-day life
All this would be replaced by a month of having food cooked for, not by, me, of walking through beautiful scenery, reading a book for as long as I like or – most enticing of all – doing nothing at all and not feeling guilty about it.
Selfish? I know that some people thought so, including my friends, some of whom greeted the news that I was taking a month out with the same kind of reaction you might save for someone announcing they were undertaking a trial period of living on the moon.
More than one asked me if my marriage was in trouble.
The answer was my marriage was fine – it was me who was a mess. Like many women in midlife I was exhausted. A combination of raising children while working full time and looking after elderly parents meant that I’d neglected myself for years.
The weight had crept on, my cholesterol was at dangerous levels and I was bloated, anxious and necking painkillers for a slipped disc in my back that just wouldn’t get better.
The idea to escape to Bali floated through my head. It was the one place I hadn’t managed to visit during my travels, and I always had it in my mind to go back, Saira writes
Not that I had time to be ill. I just kept going. More than once I said to Steve that I felt like a knackered old work horse.
Today though, I feel a world away from that woman. I’m pain free, half a stone lighter and feeling sexier and more in touch with my body than I have ever felt.
And I can honestly say that taking time to press the reset button has transformed my outlook.
It’s why I’d recommend that all women take a break away from their husband and children and tell anyone who calls them selfish for doing so exactly where they can go.
How did I get to the point of needing this in the first place? Certainly if you’d told the 30-something Saira that I would reach this kind of crisis point I would have struggled to believe you.
By then I’d already been a successful sales manager, and had taken a year out to go solo backpacking around south-east Asia.
In 2005, I sprang to fame in the first series of The Apprentice. A successful media career followed, including being a panellist on Loose Women and co-hosting Martin Lewis’s Money Show.
Saira says the break left her pain free, half a stone lighter and feeling sexier and more in touch with my body than she has ever felt
I got married at 32, becoming a mother at 38. By the time I hit 50, I’d launched my own skincare business, while navigating Covid and homeschooling, and supporting my ageing parents.
Perhaps it was the menopause too, but I’d wake up feeling like I was wading through treacle. I was piling on the pounds from comfort eating, and felt permanently exhausted.
The biggest wake-up call was when, in January, I slipped a disc in my back, leaving me in constant pain.
Doctors said I had to stretch, relax, undertake physiotherapy and take painkillers and if that didn’t work I would have to have steroid injections and, finally, surgery.
With my 54th birthday on the horizon, I realised something had to give. But what?
Saira luxuriating in Bali. I just needed some time for me, she writes. Four weeks out of 16 years of raising children doesn’t seem a lot to ask for
That’s when the idea of escaping to Bali floated through my head. It was the one place I hadn’t managed to visit during my travels, and I always had it in my mind to go back.
‘That’s what I need,’ I thought. ‘A week completely away from everything.’ I reasoned I’d fly the day after my birthday in mid-May. ‘Just do it Saira,’ said my husband Steve. ‘I think you need it.’ It snowballed from there; it seemed silly to take the 17-hour flight to Bali for just one week, so why not two?
In fact, why not a month? Once the idea had lodged in my head, I couldn’t shake it off.
This would, though, mean missing some of Zac’s GCSEs. Nonetheless, I was resolved. Arguably there’s never a good time, and as far as I was concerned, I’d put in the hard work already in terms of love and support.
Certainly, Zac wasn’t remotely concerned. ‘It’s fine mum,’ he told me. ‘It’s not like you can sit the exams for me is it?’
If anything he was relieved not to have me on his case. I was stunned by his maturity, and Amara’s too. They and Steve could see how ground down I was, how much I needed this.
Alas, I couldn’t say the same for others, who were aghast at the thought I was ‘abandoning’ my son during exam period. ‘I honestly couldn’t live with myself,’ one friend told me.
I’ll admit it gave me pause, until I realised that very few people would think to say the same to Steve.
I set about exploring the island. I downloaded a travel app that allows you to summon a guy on a motorbike who will take you anywhere you want to go
Golf holidays, lengthy stag dos (some second time round), extended periods away for business – no one bats an eyelid when a man goes away without his family, but when a woman does, suddenly she’s abandoning her loved ones and heading for divorce.
This wasn’t true. I just needed some time for me; four weeks out of 16 years of raising children doesn’t seem a lot to ask for, and I was damned if I was going to be made to feel ashamed about it.
There was another factor too. I’d seen too many women of my mum’s generation lose sight of who they were after having children, falling prey to a slow mission creep of learned helplessness within their marriage that left them unable to do things on their own.
I was determined that the same thing would not happen to me. I wanted to show my children that when you’re in a relationship you don’t leave yourself behind.
And so, at the end of January I booked my flights – outbound May 16, return June 17.
Determined to be spontaneous, I decided to book accommodation for only my first week, opting for a retreat in the coastal village of Tabanan. I touched down on the island to balmy sunshine and a sense of peace I hadn’t experienced for years; for the first time in a long time, the only appointment in my diary was with a masseuse and a good novel.
I wanted to show my children that when you’re in a relationship you don’t leave yourself behind
I spent that first week just reconnecting with my body, learning to breathe deeply, enjoying daily massages and meditations.
I went on walks, read my book and sometimes just stared into space – why not? By the end of those first seven days, I already felt refreshed and I’d stopped taking the multiple painkillers I’d come to rely on.
I hadn’t just come to laze on a hammock though. Part of the trip was to push my boundaries, and I set about exploring the island. I downloaded a travel app that allows you to summon a guy on a motorbike who will take you anywhere you want to go – something I couldn’t remotely imagine doing back home.
I did yoga, meditated and even tried something called ecstatic dance, where you let yourself go on the dance floor among strangers without a drop of alcohol in your system.
At home, I’m the kind of person who turns my nose up at stuff like this. But there, away from the shackles of what was expected of me as a wife and mother, I discovered a joyful openness, as well as the courage to truly analyse my feelings.
For when you’re sitting alone in a foreign country with only your thoughts for company, you can’t run away from some of the scarier questions: are you really happy? Where do you see yourself in ten years’ time?
Women must learn to take time for themselves without feeling guilt or shame
The answers were not as scary as they could have been; I love my husband and my children, and I love running a business, but I realised some things had to change if I wasn’t going to become increasingly resentful and ground down.
I’m not embarrassed to say that throughout my month away I had very little contact with home. I chronicled my adventures on Instagram so my kids could keep track but I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be tied to phone calls at particular times.
When we did speak, they seemed perfectly happy and it was evident Steve was totally in control. It made me realise that sometimes we women martyr ourselves and tell ourselves we’re indispensable.
I won’t lie; when the time came to return home, excited as I was to see my family again, there was a part of me that didn’t want to get on the plane. I’d enjoyed the feeling of being ‘Saira’, rather than just a mother and wife.
But I also knew I was going to do things differently – and I have. It’s only been a month, but the lessons I learned during my ‘sabbatical’ have been invaluable.
I know the importance of giving myself a break, even if it means the ironing basket is piled high with three weeks worth of clothing and the kids sometimes have to make themselves beans on toast for tea.
It’s impossible to completely shed the mental load that many women carry, however equal the domestic and parenting divide may be on paper, but I’ve realised you need to give yourself permission to compensate for it, whether it’s booking a spa day or taking half an hour to sit in the garden.
I chronicled my adventures on Instagram so my kids could keep track but I made it clear that I wasn’t going to be tied to phone calls at particular times, Saira writes
Of course, I could have done this without going away for a month. But I didn’t. I needed that reset button, a change of scene.
Certainly, everyone back home noticed the change in me. I was lighter – and not just by half a stone. In fact, some of the friends who had been most sceptical about my solo trip told me I had inspired them to try to do something similar.
I know I am lucky. I’m not financially dependent on my husband, I make my own money and could afford it, even though I did spend the month on a strict budget.
But the whole experience has taught me that women must learn to take time for themselves, one way or another, without feeling guilt or shame. I have come back feeling more connected to my femininity, my own power and self-worth. More than anything, I feel lucky.
Burnout happens incrementally, then all at once. If I were prime minister, I’d prescribe a month away for every midlife woman on the NHS.
As told to Kathryn Knight
