Unplugged, Unrushed, Unbothered (Mostly): My Time at The Retreat Costa Rica
There was a time when I moved through life with ease—when everything felt aligned.
I felt connected to myself, grounded in my body. I moved with intention. I nourished my body in ways that felt good, not just convenient. I knew how to pause—how to care for myself before showing up for everyone else.
But somewhere between the back-to-back meetings, endless inbox pings, and the ever-growing to-do lists, I lost my rhythm. I didn’t fall apart—I just faded a little. Then a lot. Then completely. Into productivity. Into performance. Into “I’ll rest when this is done.”
So when I finally took a sabbatical, I wasn’t looking for a breakthrough—at first. I was looking for a breather.
A Breather on a Hilltop
The Retreat Costa Rica is beautiful, yes—but more importantly, it’s welcoming. From the moment I arrived, the energy of the place felt calm and kind. The staff greeted me like they already knew what I needed (they kind of did), and the atmosphere made it easy to slow down without forcing it. The views were incredible, but it was the warmth of the people, the loud encouragement to relax, and the gentle pace of each day that made the biggest impact. It was the kind of space where stillness didn’t feel like something I had to earn—it just existed, and I was invited to enjoy it.
How I (Mostly) Unplugged, Unrushed, and Got a Little Less Bothered
I didn’t come back transformed—but I came back lighter. More present. A little softer around the edges. The kind of person who breathes deeper without needing a reminder, who eats without multitasking, and who finally stopped treating rest like something to earn. Here’s what supported that shift:
The Practices That Helped Me Feel Like Me Again
Each day at The Retreat followed a gentle rhythm that started with morning yoga—sometimes focused on meditation and mindful movement, other times incorporating breath and gentle flow. The practice wasn’t about perfecting poses or pushing limits. It was about presence. About meeting myself right where I was, without needing to be anything more.
In the afternoons, restorative sessions invited even more softness—supported poses, hip openers, and long exhales I didn’t realize I was holding. Some days I showed up energized. Other days I was just tired. But no matter how I arrived, the space made it okay to be exactly that.
I also experienced Sound Energy Healing—a deeply calming 60-minute session that left me feeling almost weightless. It felt like my body was resetting itself, no effort required. The stillness lingered long after the last sound faded.
These weren’t extras—they were anchors. Gentle practices that helped me ground, breathe, and reconnect with myself at a pace that felt natural.
A 2022 meta-analysis published in Scientific Reports found that breath-focused interventions like these significantly reduced stress and improved emotional well-being. Additional studies in Frontiers in Human Neuroscience show that slow breathing and mindful movement support nervous system regulation and increase heart rate variability—an important marker of emotional resilience.
But honestly, I wasn’t thinking about metrics—I was thinking, this feels like the first time I’ve truly slowed down in years. I wasn’t looking for a breakthrough—I just needed a soft place to land.
Bodywork That Met Me Where I Was
The Retreat’s spa services were more than pampering—they were part of the healing. After so much “doing” in regular life, simply receiving felt like its own kind of medicine.
The Heaven on Earth Massage lived up to its name: 60 minutes of tension melting, lymphatic support, and pure calm. It helped me feel more in my body and less in my head. The Maharani Milk Bath Ritual was like a gentle reset for my skin and nervous system—hydrating, softening, and completely soothing.
But the treatment that surprised me most was the Abhyanga Ayurvedic Herbal Oil Massage. Over the course of 90 minutes, warm herbal oil was massaged into my skin in rhythmic strokes designed to stimulate circulation, support detoxification, and tone the muscles. It felt grounding, holistic, and deeply intentional—like my body was being reminded how to care for itself again.
None of it felt performative. Each experience met me right where I was: tired, open, and ready to feel good without needing to earn it.
Food, But Make It Healing
And then there was the food—because even rest can benefit from some fuel.
Every meal at The Retreat was anti-inflammatory, organic, and made with care. Not the kind of care that feels precious or performative—just real, intentional nourishment that tasted like someone actually wanted me to feel good. I didn’t have to decode a menu or wonder if I’d still be hungry afterward. I sat down, ate slowly, and left the table feeling more like a person—and less like a machine.
It was the first time in a long while that eating didn’t feel like multitasking. No emails, no rushed bites between meetings, no standing in the kitchen with a spoon and a deadline. Just meals I could look forward to. Meals that made me feel… cared for. Seen, even. Like my body mattered more.
One afternoon, I joined the Wellness Cooking Class—a relaxed, 45-minute group lesson where we learned how to prepare simple, anti-inflammatory meals. It was hands-on, approachable, and genuinely fun. I walked away with tips I could actually use back home, but more than that, I left feeling empowered to keep nourishing myself beyond the retreat setting. It turned out that the food wasn’t just healing—it was also something I could continue to give myself.
Most of us already know that food affects how we feel—but I could really feel it. A 2022 study in the British Journal of Nutrition found that anti-inflammatory diets—rich in fruits, vegetables, nuts, and whole grains—can reduce inflammation and support overall well-being. Research published in Nature Mental Health also shows that a balanced gut microbiome (the kind supported by food like this) is linked to greater emotional resilience and stress recovery.
Still, I wasn’t thinking about nutrients or gut bacteria—I was just grateful to feel grounded, fed, and finally… not in a rush.
Community, But No Pressure
I came alone, which is something I’ve grown more comfortable with over time. I arrived expecting deep rest, restorative experiences, and nourishing food—that was the intention. I wasn’t there to “find myself” or have big emotional breakthroughs. I definitely wasn’t there to make friends.
But then something unexpected happened.
Every night, I gathered for dinner around a long table with strangers. Most of us had come solo, and not everyone was there for the same reason. A few were simply on holiday. Others were navigating something more personal—like healing from a potentially fatal illness, recovering from a divorce, or taking a breather from high-intensity work, like one ER nurse in the group. We came from different cultural backgrounds, stages of life, and emotional bandwidths.
And somehow, it worked. The conversations were thoughtful but never heavy. Present, but not committal. We weren’t trying to fix or carry each other—just connect, gently and without expectation. We laughed. We listened. Some things we skimmed, others we sank into. It felt grounded, generous, and surprisingly nourishing.
It was serendipitous. The right mix of people, at the right time. I wouldn’t say it’s guaranteed—but if you arrive open, there’s a certain magic that can happen when strangers are all quietly choosing presence over performance.
And if connection doesn’t happen? That’s okay, too. The beauty of this kind of space is that it gives you exactly what you need—whether that’s community, solitude, or something in between.
What This Experience Gently Reminded Me
Rest doesn’t need to be earned. You are always worthy of slowing down, even when the world says otherwise.
Stillness isn’t lazy—it’s clarifying. It makes space for truth to rise to the surface, without the noise of constant doing.
Food is a powerful part of healing. How we eat—slowly, intentionally, with care—is just as important as what we eat.
A few small rituals, done regularly, can shift everything. You don’t need a dramatic overhaul—just consistent, thoughtful moments that help you feel more like yourself.
When you’re intentional about your environment and open to the experience, what you need has a way of finding you. For me, it came in the form of deep rest, gentle healing, and unexpected community. For you, it might show up differently—and that’s the beauty of it.
Final Reflection
The Retreat Costa Rica wasn’t the whole of my sabbatical story—but it was a meaningful chapter. A quiet pause. A soft reset. A place that moved me more into alignment and feeling like myself again.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, overstimulated, or disconnected from your own rhythm, I hope you find a space like this—one that meets you gently, wherever you are. Whether it’s a week away or a weekend unplugged, you deserve time that supports your well-being, not just your schedule.
And while no place holds all the answers, the right environment can offer something just as valuable: a sense of steadiness, care, and enough space to feel a little more like yourself again. That alone can be transformative.