I trudge across winter fields under drizzle and a cloud-puffed sky. In the empty, static orchards, their spent apple trees still crowned in headdresses of faded leaves, the dark shape of a deer startles me. When I arrive at a bridge overlooking an ancient church, it seems familiar. I’ve been in this part of Somerset before, I realise, in the hot, sticky summer, searching for a place to swim while staying with a friend. Then we crawled through dry grass between picnicking families, slid into stone-cold water and swam to the weir while teenagers dive-bombed from the bridge. This time there’s not a soul about, not even a duck. But the stillness is as inviting as the summer was convivial. I walk back to the small converted barn I’m staying in, cosy and warm with its woodburner, candles, vases crowded with lilies and roses, and sheepskin rugs. The fridge is stocked with vegetarian dishes delivered by a lovely lady, Cecilia, who popped in this morning to make my breakfast (smoked salmon, seven-minute egg, Greek yoghurt, berries).
I first did the Arrigo Programme solo retreat seven years ago: now I’m back for my third go. While psychodynamic heavyweight Fiona Arrigo engages in group and community work (including taking care of cash-strapped single mothers and creating space for women to plan a life rooted in integrity), the solos are her stock in trade. Outfits such as The Bespoke Retreat Company, The Nest in Cornwall and Wales’ Coach House Retreat have emulated the solo aspect. But Arrigo is inimitable.
In this atomised world of technology-induced alienation and chronic loneliness, it makes sense to question the validity of retreating from others, but every time I’ve been in this place, I needed to be. The retreat’s curation is always different. The first time, I was a fragile flame crushed by family separation, parenting alone and needing to feel a sense of freedom. The second, I was worn threadbare by workaholism, perimenopause and bullying, and needed to forgive people in the past to cope better with those in the present. Both times, I got what I needed in this safest of spaces, and I left with a sense of renewed self-esteem. This time, I’m in the latter stages of recovery from a hit-and-run accident last spring, when a moped threw me off my bike and onto my head – I wasn’t wearing a helmet. Skull and inner ear fractures spun me out of body and consciousness. It’s taken a solid seven months to feel almost normal. During this time, my focus has been on physical recovery. I cried at the scene in shock as I came to, circled by strangers I’ll always remember and will never see again, and sometimes during the following month as family and friends moved in to care for me. After that, I repressed distress and vulnerability to cope with motherhood and work. I headed to Somerset, knowing it was the best place to discharge whatever needed to be got rid of.
This is how Arrigo works: conversations with Fiona guide her to pick therapies from her toolkit of practitioners. They range from the clinical and psychotherapeutic (psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, addiction counsellors, forgiveness coaches, Internal Family Systems experts) to the somatic (shiatsu, cranial sacral therapy, breathwork, EFT and TRE trauma relief therapy) via the cosmic (energy healers and shamans) in a holistic but grounded approach to personal growth.
My programme is highly somatic because of what’s happened, but if I had a disorder, damaging behaviour, or was deeply fragile or depressed, or highly sensitive or neurodiverse, it would look appropriately different. The programme can go on for months. Although you are deeply held, Arrigo is not about pampering. It’s about effecting change, and tackling deep issues with the help of gifted, tuned-in people.
