Jeffries initially volunteered for six months but found she didn?t want to go home when her time was up. 'I felt so much more confident and assertive. There was a sense of relaxation, of certainty this was the right thing to do.?
Jeffries did return briefly to Britain but felt a completely different person. 'I found it really stressful. Things that used to matter to me were no longer important. I?d been very materialistic, but now I didn?t need to have a car, I didn?t need new clothes.
'When I went through the list of my friends I thought, ?Do I want to see you?? and with a lot of them the answer was no. I realised who my real friends were, as opposed to the friends I went out drinking with. I?d been bumbling along from boyfriend to boyfriend, job to job, but the time out I had had made me really learn about myself and what I wanted.?
Her relationship with her on-off boyfriend had also changed and shortly after she returned to Tanzania she ended it. 'It had always been on his terms but it finished on my terms. Different things were more important to me than having a boyfriend. He was possessive and insecure and worried too much.
'I thought, ?People in Tanzania have nothing and they are happy; they don?t moan all the time.? I realised I had always needed to be with somebody but now I was happy in myself.?
Despite ? or more probably because of ? her new-found independence, Jeffries soon fell in love with a local tour guide, Frank. They have just had a baby boy, Joshua. 'Kids had never been on my priority list before, but when I saw how Frank was around children I suddenly wanted one.?
Although Jeffries may sound on the young side, what she had undergone was a midlife crisis. Traditionally these are viewed as the preserve of fiftysomething men who overnight gain an earring, a Harley-Davidson and a teenage girlfriend.
But increasing numbers of women are wrangling with what Carl Jung called 'the afternoon of life??, an unspecified time of angst and self-doubt that can kick in at any time from 35 to 55, even if the signs are usually less conspicuous.
According to the mental-health charity Mind, typical symptoms of a crisis are boredom, a feeling of worthlessness, lack of meaning and, most of all, a terrifying sense that time is running out.
Once this state of mind was associated with the menopausal and 'empty nesters?? , women like Shirley Valentine, the housewife of Willy Russell?s play of the same name who walked out on her husband and went to Greece for a fling with a Greek bar owner.
Twenty years on, however, our definition of midlife is more confused. Women in their fifties may be suffering from hot flushes and caring for elderly parents while also raising young children, dressing in miniskirts and going out clubbing.
At the same time, pressures on women to succeed as young as possible can make them reach breaking-point far earlier than in the past. 'By the time you are just 30 these days you?re pushing the glass ceiling,? says Professor Cary Cooper, the president of the relationships charity Relate.
'The average age of a chief executive has gone down from the late fifties to the forties in just a decade, so you?ve either made it or you haven?t. It means either you invest more in work, possibly at the expense of family life, or you think, ?I?m not going anywhere in this job so what?s the point????
A recent Relate report found that people aged between 35 and 44 were most likely to be in crisis. This is the time when many mothers feel their identities have been swallowed up by their children. Childless women, on the other hand, may be realising they may never enjoy family life. Relentlessly bombarded by images of 21-year-olds in bikinis, they can feel past their prime, their potential unfulfilled.
For these educated, sophisticated women the poster girl is Elizabeth Gilbert, the glamorous thirtysomething whose bestselling memoir Eat, Pray, Love recorded how she left an unsatisfying marriage, quit her job and spent a year travelling round the world.
One yoga instructor, who teaches in Mysore, India, says he knows Gilbert?s followers well. 'I call them the FFFs ? female, fat and 40,? he says. 'They?ve either left it too late to have babies or their children have grown up. Either way, they don?t know what to do with their lives and are searching for some truths.?
Roger Salwey, the director of Oyster Worldwide, the company that organised Tracey Jeffries? gap year, is more tactful in his description. 'We have noticed a big market in divorced women, far more so than in men,? he says.
What crisis sufferers of any age tend to share is a new awareness of life?s fragility. Myra Hunter, a psychologist, says: 'There can be transition every decade ? some women feel better in their forties. What brings them to a crisis is that they?ve undergone a significant event that?s triggered thoughts about where they have been and who they are.?
For Helen Jones, 45, the turning-point was her long-term partner?s death from lung cancer at the age of 40. 'I was left a single parent to our son and with a strong sense that life was too short and that I had not been living life as I should be living it.?
That feeling was compounded when Jones had to give up her job as a car valet following a whiplash injury. 'I couldn?t do my job anymore so I ended up working in a call centre. But when you get to a certain age you don?t want to stay in a dead-end job.?
By this time she was in a new relationship with Heather Bradley, 39, whom she married in a civil ceremony four years ago. During a night out they decided to give up their jobs and open Gabrielle?s, a hotel for women in Blackpool.
'Everyone said, ?You?re mad.? Heather had never been to Blackpool and I had only been once as a child. We were living in Rotherham, we?d just bought a beautiful detached house together and we were only two years into our relationship.
'The banks wouldn?t lend us money because we knew nothing about the hospitality industry. My son was nine and we had to take him out of his school and uproot him from family and friends. So it was very scary. But life?s about more than material things. We knew we didn?t want to be answerable to anyone workwise.?
Despite the non-stop demands of running a hotel, Jones still maintains her life?s-too-short attitude. 'It?s hard to take holidays because we have to turn down business, but we always ensure we make time to get away. I know now that you have to prioritise lifestyle over money, that we?ll never be rich or have a brand-new car again but we?ll always be happy.?
As with Jones, it took the death of a loved one for Frieda De Ley, 44, to ? in her words ? 'wake up??. Having enjoyed a lucrative career as an executive in an industrial insurance company, De Ley was jolted into action after her mother was diagnosed with cancer and told she had two months to live.
'We had a very, very strong bond and the shock made me see that the life I was leading was not what I wanted anymore. I was earning a lot of money, but I was living out of a suitcase and not enjoying it. I?d gone into engineering because I was good at science and my parents thought it was a good career, but this trigger made me realise that all these years I?d actually been following the wrong path.?
Her colleagues were 'flabbergasted? when, aged 35, she resigned to retrain as a psychologist. She worked first in the public sector before setting up her own business, FDL ? For Developing Leaders, to advise, train and coach people in the workplace.
For De Ley, from Chiswick, west London, the choice wasn?t just about finding more enjoyable work, but about prioritising home life, too. 'Until then my husband and I had been living off microwaved meals but I wanted to change all that. We had a house, we had a garden, but I was working too hard to enjoy it and make it nice.
'A lot of my friends were spurred to slow down because they wanted to spend time with their children, but even without children I think a time comes when you want just to enjoy your home more.?
For women who have concentrated too much on their families, however, the opposite may be true. Yvonna Demczynska, 53, had happily abandoned a career in marketing that her family had 'pushed her into? to bring up two sons.
But as the children grew up she began to feel unfulfilled. With no experience or training, 10 years ago she opened the Flow Gallery in Notting Hill, west London, showcasing applied art from all over the world.
'I just wasn?t getting enough stimulation with the children at home,? she says. 'I loved them very much but I needed something for myself. I was definitely losing confidence and when I hit 40 I thought, ?If I don?t do something soon that I really love when will I do it?? It was quite a risk ? I had no experience and I found it very difficult to speak to people about what I was doing.?
The gallery took off but then Demczynska?s husband of 27 years left her. 'It was a really big shock. It takes a long time to heal the pain of abandonment. Without the gallery I don?t know what I would have done. Luckily, the confidence it has given me has overflowed into my personal life. I have finally found my potential.?
Not all midlife crises have such happy endings: 25 per cent of middle-aged women suffer from depression and anxiety, compared with 14 per cent of men. But tackled head on and with courage, a crisis can still be transformative.
As Tracey Jeffries says: 'I was so nervous going to Tanzania because I was surrounded by 18- and 19-year-olds on their gap years but I got so much more of the experience than they did.
'Their lives haven?t begun yet and I was beginning to think mine was over. Sometimes you need to step back from your life and think: ?Is this really me?? It?s a lot more difficult to do it when you?re older, but it?s certainly worth it.?
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