Exhausted? Relief is Possible.

I want to share a story that might remind you of someone you care about - maybe even someone who would never ask for help, even when they desperately need it. Stories like this remind us what an honor it is to do this work - we get to witness these transformations every single day. It’s the story about a woman named Marni.

Marni is the kind of woman who keeps the world spinning for everyone around her. She’s the glue. The safe place. The problem-solver. The stay-late, wake-up-early, “don’t worry, I’ve got it” person. And because she’s so capable, everyone depends on her.

But somewhere along the way, she convinced herself that caring for others always came first. 

Her days blurred together like one long, unfinished checklist. Every time she crossed off a task, five more were waiting - school emails, work deadlines, grocery runs, aging parent care, another load of laundry, another meal to cook, another crisis to handle. Her phone was always buzzing. Her mind was always racing. Her nervous system was constantly bracing for the next thing.

She found herself snapping at her kids when they asked her to play with them. “I have to work,” she said repeatedly, wondering why she had to keep telling them that when they should know better already. 

Her sleep was shallow and fragmented. Her energy? Nonexistent. Joy was a faint memory.

She wasn’t living anymore - just surviving. Survival mode had become so normal that she didn’t even realize how depleted she’d become. She moved through her days feeling like a ghost in her own life… a shell of the warm, vibrant human she used to be.

Then one day, her sister handed her a simple envelope. Inside she found a gift certificate to Sukhino. (Stick with me here.)

Marni smiled politely, but inside she felt the familiar weight of obligation: When am I supposed to find time for this?

Her sister must have sensed it, because she didn’t give Marni room to wriggle out - she booked a float for both of them and promised to pick her up that Saturday morning. And because Marni is the kind of person who never cancels on others, but always cancels on herself, she went.

She walked into our tiny little reception area exhausted, skeptical, and running on fumes. She couldn’t believe she had to watch an orientation video to know how to “relax”. 

But the shower looked inviting, and she stepped into the float cabin, wondering if her sister would know if she got out early and caught up on emails from the sofa in the lounge instead.

She reluctantly positioned herself inside the cabin and allowed the float solution to support her. It felt warm and cozy, and the music was quite relaxing, so she thought it might not be that bad to give it a shot. 

It took a few minutes... well, more than a few minutes honestly. But she stuck with it. And for the first time in forever, the noise faded. Her body unclenched. Her breath dropped from her chest down into her belly. The constant internal hum - the overwhelm, the planning, the bracing - softened.

Inside that quiet, she could finally hear herself again.

Marni lost track of time. About halfway through the float, she decided to turn off the light, and eventually she couldn’t tell where her body ended and the water began. Maybe she fell asleep, maybe she didn’t. Later - minutes? Hours? She didn’t know how long it really was, but the light came back on to let her know it was time to get out. 

She stepped into the shower, wondering what just happened. Tears began to flow.

She felt a sense of peace. 

After her float, she and her sister spent time together in the salt cave - resting, breathing, reconnecting, talking about life instead of logistics. They shared stories and talked about how hard things have been. They cried. They laughed. For the first time in months, she wasn’t “on.” She didn’t have to fix anything or show up for anyone. She could just be , and it was enough.

That night, something happened she couldn’t remember the last time she experienced:

She slept. Deeply. Fully.The kind of sleep that feels like being hugged by warm blankets.The kind of sleep that rewires something inside you.

She woke up the next morning without that lump in her chest - anxiety ready to attack. Instead, she awoke with a mind that wasn’t buzzing like a broken power line. There was space to breathe. Her shoulders felt lower. Her chest felt open. Her thoughts felt kinder.

She noticed herself humming while making breakfast.She noticed she had patience again. She noticed she didn’t immediately snap when the kids squabbled. She noticed she laughed - a real laugh she hadn’t heard in years.

She came back to Sukhino the next month. And then the next.

With each float and each moment of stillness, her nervous system recalibrated. Survival mode loosened its grip. She didn’t feel frazzled by every sound. She wasn’t overstimulated all the time. She began to remember who she was beneath the exhaustion.

Soon she realized something important: Rest wasn’t a luxury. Rest was what made her herself again.

She found she could take 10 quiet minutes in the morning to drink her coffee on the deck without feeling guilty. She could slow down long enough to enjoy the breeze.She could say yes to playing with her kids, not because she should, but because she genuinely wanted to. Her laugh came back, not forced, but free.

Her family noticed. Her coworkers noticed. But most importantly… she noticed.

Her monthly visit with us became a sacred pause in her life - a promise she made to herself that she finally kept. Her time at Sukhino is now non-negotiable. Her anchor. Her reset.

She’s lighter. She’s calmer. She’s more present. She’s more her.

Stories like Marni’s happen here every day.

If there’s someone in your life who gives until they have nothing left… someone who has forgotten what it feels like to be cared for… someone who deserves a moment to let go of all of the hard things they're carrying…

A Sukhino gift certificate might be the turning point they didn’t know they needed.

Give them the gift of quiet. The gift of presence. The gift of coming home to themselves.

Everyday, our guests come in saying they’ve never heard of us, and they walk out saying it was the “best thing I never knew I needed”. We can’t even begin to count how many times guests who received a gift certificate say they need to call their friend who gave it to them and thank them again.

If you know someone who needs this kind of relief, we would be honored to welcome them!

-Kim, owner