How about this for an auspicious start to the festive season? My husband of 19 years – partner for 24 and father of my two children – told me that he wished he was married to a different kind of woman.

I was shocked and outraged. I had no intention of becoming a different type of woman. What was required, it was clear to me, was that he become a different type of man – one who appreciated his wife!

So I was off. But not to the divorce lawyer. I was flying away to southern Spain, to the Alpujarra valley in Andalucía, for a course called the Power of Connection. Having already done a few courses with the organisers, a self-help charity called More to Life, I'd learned that holding my tongue has its benefits and that there was perhaps a different solution.

I first heard about More To Life from my sister, who said she'd moved on more during a weekend course with them than she had in five years of therapy. I had chosen this particular course for its promise to make me a "more caring friend, more loving partner, more successful parent, and a more fulfilled individual" – all particularly valuable at Christmas time.

I was met at Malaga airport by Alan, one half of Alan and Tina, More to Life veterans who moved to the Alpujarras, south of the Sierra Nevada, two-and-a-half years ago. They helped the teacher, Louise Smith, convert what has hitherto been taught as a three-day course at locations all over Britain into a week-long holiday.

A stunning two-hour drive along the coast and into the winding Alpujarra valley brought us to the far side of Orgiva, a town of Spanish families and middle-aged hippies.

A couple of miles off the main road was La Cuesta del Almendral (the Almond Grove), our delightful home for the week, with six terracotta-floored bedrooms. Mine had a balcony overlooking a bougainvillea-edged garden, the swimming pool beyond and a heart-stopping mountain backdrop. Welcome dinner was in Tina and Alan's house next door, Cortijo Caliz, where we feasted on chicken casserole, figs from their garden in syrup and a light spongy goat's cheese.

Over the next six days, the six of us on the course, plus Louise and her helper, Jane, alternated between days in the "classroom" – a large, oval, airy, wooden yoga hut – and days "off". In the first session, Louise talked about different realities and I came to see how I express my "reality" (my thoughts, feelings, desires) very freely – dogmatically, some would say – while my husband expresses his quietly – or manipulatively, as I have been known to view it. I vowed to try harder to tune in to his reality.

At the next session, Louise showed us how to do this, using "playback" and "reflect back", techniques whereby the listener repeats exactly the words the other person is using and thinks about what they might be feeling. I tried it on my husband that evening on the phone and, remarkably, he didn't spot it or ask why I was parroting him. He said things at home had been pretty stressful: he wasn't feeling well, he'd been late to work several mornings because of getting the children ready and he'd had to sort out extra childcare because our daughter's school closed early.

Instead of raising my eyebrows in a "now you know what I have to deal with" kind of way, or getting defensive about the fact I'd swanned off to Spain for a week, I listened attentively and repeated back to him what he'd just said to me. Actually, he continued, although it was stressful, he was feeling more in touch with the children than he did when I was around. Wow! (I didn't say that though; I simply repeated his words back to him again.)

Finally, he said, he realised that when I was there he abdicated responsibility for them to me. I'm ashamed to say that hallelujahs rang out loudly in my mind.

Triumphalism, of course, has no part in improving relationships. It's a form of judgment which, along with demands, wreaks havoc in communication, as we came to see later in the week when we wrote down our thoughts. I wrote that my husband should want to be with me, be home for the family meal on time, be more loving and respect the things that matter to me. If he doesn't do these things, he is unloving, uncaring, not devoted, the wrong person for me.

On paper, these statements glared back at me. As Louise pointed out, our "shoulds" turn us into dictators, and when we decide that other people are or are not something, as if this is the absolute truth about them, we are condemning them, playing God.

My feelings alternate between anger and sadness when I have these thoughts. And distinguishing thoughts and beliefs from feelings is, I learn, key to improving our emotional health. Thoughts and beliefs go on in our minds and are often wrong or unverifiable, while feelings happen in our bodies and are always real. It's a revelation to me – somebody who lives pretty much in her head – and a relief to get in touch with my feelings.

I did a fair bit of crying in that yoga hut – something I would once have been embarrassed to admit to but now regard as a mark of my progress in self-awareness. I can't really remember exactly what Louise did or said that carried me gently down this route, but witnessing her do it with others was mesmerising. Permitting your feelings while challenging your thinking is central to the More to Life experience, a blend of western psychotherapy and eastern spiritual traditions.

I had intended, on free days, to yomp off into the Alpujarras, but the wisdom on offer around the pool, cradled as it was by the mountain scenery, was the greater lure.

Most of us sprawled on sunbeds with our course files, doing our homework exercises or retreating to nooks and crannies in the grounds in pairs to practise our new communication techniques. Louise and Jane were among us, chatting and guiding, lightly or in-depth, whatever the mood required. Jane sat with one participant for several hours. And from time to time, the absurdity of some thoughts became a source of entertainment.

One participant, who wanted to form a closer relationship with her sister, was doing an exercise writing down all the things she resented her for. She suddenly burst out laughing then read out, as best she could, mid-hilarity: "I resent my sister for crying when she was a baby when I put her little finger in a pencil sharpener and turned it."

I was one of only three people to put my hand up for a midweek trip to the Alhambra – an hour away by bus – but was not massively disappointed to hear it was fully booked. Instead, most of us headed into Orgiva and sat outside a bar watching a busy market and listening to each other's life stories. Nobody seemed to want to get away from the group.

As the week went on, I became aware of how peaceful I felt. And I knew it wasn't just the beautiful scenery and warm sunshine. I'd never met most of the people there before but I was listening, really listening, to what they had to say. Without judgments and without demands. And they were listening to me. The urge I usually have to butt in with my thoughts and opinions – and, worse, summary and analysis – evaporated. This was connection – with their reality. And I was connecting to something in myself, my humanity perhaps.

Maybe my husband will get his wish, for I definitely feel I returned home a different kind of woman: one ready to embrace not just his reality but those of the whole family – realities which, for many, explode into catastrophic conflict at Christmas.

• The Power of Connection one-week course runs in Spain from 23 April and 24 September 2011. It costs £995, including seven nights full-board and transfers, but not flights. More information at consciouschange.co.uk/change/2011-schedule/connect-in-spain, or from Louise Smith on 07767 484102. Information on other More to Life courses from 020-7431 0922, moretolife.org. EasyJet (easyjet.com) flies to Malaga from Belfast, Bristol, Glasgow, Liverpool, Gatwick, Luton, Manchester, Newcastle and Stansted from £26 return