I had a hysterectomy at 37 – and tried a meditation retreat to help me heal

“Clear your mind and focus on your breath,” Sonethavy Indasaro instructed. Sitting opposite me in a small teak pavilion, the saffron-robed monk, known as Sone, was giving me a crash course in meditation.

With my eyes closed and legs crossed, it certainly looked like I was in the zone. Except my mind had other ideas: it was busy chasing every fleeting distraction. The incessant whine of the cicadas. The quiet chatter of passing tourists. The rustle of leaves when a light breeze swept through. By the end of our hour-long session at Wat Pha Lat, one of Chiang Mai’s most visited temples, I still hadn’t managed a single minute of quietude. My only excuse was that I had never meditated before.

I had come to Thailand to heal. Last November, a few days after my 37th birthday, I had a hysterectomy. Just two months earlier, phrases such as “not responding to treatment” were being bandied around while an NHS consultant told me that I would have endometrial cancer by December if I didn’t get surgery.

Within weeks, I was undergoing fertility preservation, and making decisions such as what would happen to my eggs if I died. By day, I ticked off the pre-surgery checklist; by night, I wept silently into my pillow. A year on, I still didn’t feel like myself.

Travel planning was my one solace in this time; it simultaneously offered escapism and a sense of normality. It also got me thinking about wellness retreats – somewhere where I could feel physically looked after and have time to process the emotional trauma I had endured.

That’s when I came across the Vipassana deep meditation programme at boutique hotel Aleenta Chiang Mai.

Vipassana meditation supposedly brings clarity and helps heal emotional trauma, albeit after many hours of practice. It’s generally offered by temples and meditation centres as a 10-day silent retreat; intensive surgery for the soul. Aleenta’s version sounded more beginner-friendly.

Running between five and 10 nights, it combines yoga and massages with monk-led meditation in nearby temples – or a secular version focusing on mindfulness with Wit David Lee, who specialises in trauma healing – for a more holistic approach to well-being. And it’s not so strict on the silent part; for those new to the practice, there are opportunities to ask questions between periods of meditation.

I’ve never been spiritually inclined but curiosity pushed me to sign up. Perhaps, I thought, or hoped, this hard break from daily life would provide the reset I needed.

A few weeks before arriving in Thailand, I was sent the schedule for my five-night stay. There’s an optional yoga or qigong class before breakfast each morning, and then a trip to either Wat Pha Lat or Wat Umong for an hour’s meditation with a monk.

After lunch, there is a 90-minute spa session with daily changing treatments ranging from Thai yoga massage to Tibetan sound therapy. There are always a couple of hours free in the afternoon for private practice, before dinner and a cleansing ginger or mint tea at around bedtime.

It felt full on, but manageable. And in any case, resort manager Thomas Singenberger told me when I arrived, everything was adjustable – the retreat was designed to be personalised.

What the schedule didn’t prepare me for was the emotional rollercoaster that I would go on. After that first session with Sone, I was consumed by impostor syndrome. He had meditated daily since entering monkhood at 11, while I had arrived with only basic knowledge and, with the typical impatience of a time-poor Londoner, expected to be taught everything in just a few sessions. Equally frustrating was my inability to concentrate, despite being largely alone with my thoughts and having no one to talk to, let alone reach enlightenment. And that feeling persisted.

Aleenta is located in a largely residential neighbourhood a 10-minute cab ride from Chiang Mai old town. There are just 44 spacious rooms and residences, each one modern in monochrome, with vibrant hand-woven fabrics adding pops of colour. Opposite there is a century-old teak building housing the restaurant and bar, and another containing the library and shop.

The courtyard pulls it all together, with a small lap pool, compact spa and raised yoga salon creating a hub of activity on the cloudless sunny mornings I was there, before the humidity inevitably gave way to a monsoon-style downpour after lunch.

Those wet and dreary afternoons were when I had my spa sessions. As one of the therapists worked their magic, applying palms and elbows expertly to pressure points I didn’t know existed, I would mull over the morning’s meditation to the pitter-patter of rain. Once or twice, I tried clearing my mind and focusing on my breath, but more often than not, I just dozed off.

After my treatment, I would always feel too tired to do anything beyond napping and briefly leaving the cocoon of my room for dinner at the restaurant, usually a piquant sturgeon ceviche or tom kha kai, a restorative hot and sour soup. And in the morning, I would return to Sone, feeling defeated.

But Sone persisted. He brought me prayer beads to count as a way to “give work” to my mind, and introduced me to walking meditation, where I had to acknowledge every single movement before I made it. I was surprised to find that it was much easier to concentrate when I had something physical to focus my energy on. But the state of nirvana remained elusive.

I think everyone who goes on a retreat hopes it will be life-changing in some way. Certainly I hoped I would leave with a sense of immense calmness, or some other profound realisation – but of course it’s not necessarily like that in real life.

As the days ticked by, my lack of progress made me feel restless. I also slept badly, tormented by lurid dreams that evaporated with the morning sun. Confused as ever, I asked Sone in my final session what it was that I was meant to experience.

“Vipassana meditation is about seeing things as they are,” Sone explained with his typical patience. “To train ourselves to separate the subjective from the objective, and not to react with animal instincts. This is how we come to accept the things that happen, and avoid dwelling on the negative.”

As for finding that moment of complete peace, where the mind is empty of all thoughts, Sone admits it’s often brief. Seeing my obvious disappointment, he added: “Keep practising. You’ll know when the moment comes.”

Qin Xie travelled as a guest of Aleenta Chiang Mai, which offers its Vipassana Deep Meditation Program as part of a five-, seven- or 10-night retreat, from £335 per night based on single occupancy, including accommodation, all meals and daily meditation sessions and spa treatments.