Watching a woman striking a catwalk pose before walking over a bed of 600C hot coals in a white wedding dress that never made it to the wedding was not exactly what I had expected to be doing this summer. Much less did I expect that, bar the strut and the gorgeous outfit, a few seconds later I would be making the same walk across those coals. In fact, I was expecting to be at the beach. “Valencia, maybe?” my boyfriend had suggested a few months earlier as we excitedly anticipated our first summer together. The fantasy of sipping cervezas on the promenade against a backdrop of peachy sunsets quickly fell apart when, in April, he decided to call it quits. “What do you think happened?” I asked yet another friend at the time, disappointed when my detailed breakdown of our final conversation did not amount to a more profound explanation than “sounds like he wasn’t ready”. The truth is it didn’t matter what anyone said, nor that our relationship had been hanging by a thread for a while, because I already knew the answer. Me: I was the problem. If only I’d been more patient, reassured him more, had just been a different person altogether, then maybe we would still be together. It’s not uncommon to have your self-esteem knocked by a breakup. But as the months went by and my heartbreak failed to subside, I began to wonder how I could prevent the breakup from continuing to shake my sense of self so profoundly. I decided I wouldn’t let this summer become one of heartbreak. It would be the summer of bouncing back. So when the opportunity arose to attend a retreat designed to help women embrace their “inner warrior”, I was intrigued. A weekend of axe-throwing and firewalking? Bending metal poles with your neck? This might just be the thing to facilitate the change I was looking for. Before I could back out, I signed up. Feelings of excitement quickly turned to fear as I arrived at a converted mill in the Lake District with a collection of forms to sign. “This is not for the faint-hearted,” read an advert for the retreat; while I signed a release form gently reminding me that I held personal responsibility for any injuries I sustained. I was part of a bunch of women from different backgrounds, ages ranging from 27 to 61; inextricably bound by our commitment (whatever it takes) to make meaningful change in our lives. As we huddled around a fire on the first night, sipping on cups of cacao on a mismatched array of logs and yoga mats, I felt a little more than a dash of scepticism. “Who is the woman inside you shrouded by all the layers of patriarchy?”; “What difference do you want to make in the world?”; “What are the factors holding you back from embracing your inner warrior?”, the organiser of the retreat asked, in full girl-boss power speak. But as we revisited these questions throughout the weekend I realised it was what I needed. For the first time in a while I was not thinking about my ex and my shortcomings; I was thinking about my passions, the things that drive me. Life suddenly started to feel big and expansive again. The more physical activities, on the other hand, left me feeling terrified. As I stood in front of the bed of hot coals with bright orange embers flickering through the cracks, my feet suddenly felt like the smallest, most precious little things to have ever touched the earth. I wondered if a trip to Spain with a friend instead may have been enough to get me over this hump. But there was no going back. To the cheer of women dressed in colourful dresses and outfits they felt most “fabulous” in, accompanied by the earthy pulses of drums that made me feel as though I was in a scene from Game of Thrones, I stepped on to the coals. Miraculously, I made it out the other end, burn-free. The experience felt so thrilling, I did it three more times. “If you can walk on fire you can do anything,” the organiser cheered. The bonds I made with the other women on the retreat stayed with me in the weeks that followed. These are women I cried and laughed with in equal measure. Had it not been for their kindness, openness and encouragement (and constantly telling each other how fabulous we were), I probably wouldn’t have had the courage to do most of the activities on offer that weekend. Since the retreat, life has started to feel full of possibility again. I have regained touch with the brighter parts of my former self. I am focusing my energy on my passions, not my shortcomings. I have become more accepting of the fact that failure, whether in romantic relationships or in other areas of my life, is inevitable. When I find myself seeking validation from someone, I return to watch the video of my fire walk. It feels powerful to know I was able to embrace fear and defy my own expectations of myself in that moment. “We are warriors!” my friend reminds me when I’m having a moment of self-doubt at work. She didn’t go on the retreat, so I am excited to hear the lingo is travelling on. While my ex has not yet become the “insignificant blob” my brother told me he eventually would, his significance has taken a new shape. The breakup was the catalyst I needed to step out of my comfort zone, and into my resilience. Olivia Lee is a recipient of the 2023-24 Scott Trust bursary