“I love myself, and let it go”. I first heard this phrase on a little island across the sea from Bali. I was there to attend a yoga retreat, having sought refuge over the New Year. By the time Christmas finally rocked up I was well and truly over 2016. Over the year, over its heartache, ready to leave it all behind and find some peace under the Indonesian Sun. I found that and more, although I didn’t realise quite what I was letting myself in for when I stepped off that plane headed for my tropical haven.

Life on Gili Air was a rich and sensuous medley; cockerels crowing at the earth, the call to prayer coursing through the air, waves gently lapping the shore and hooves clip clopping along the sandy paths that crisscrossed the island. It was an idyll, exactly the place you go to mend a broken heart and welcome in a new year. We spent our days contorted in poses, cross-legged in silence at sunrise & sunset, doing the inner work. Many a fat tear rolled down my face as I faced up to my changing future. Memories I’d blocked came flooding in at the most inopportune moments. During one particular pigeon pose I found myself on a camping trip, senses so heightened I could smell the countryside air, and see the faces of those I was called back to so clearly that my heart broke all over again. Still, I let myself melt into the mat as the emotions took over. In that moment, I truly appreciated the power of yoga to release emotions and connect with the soul.

I don’t think it’s possible to travel to the other side of the world, spend a week with a group of like-minded individuals, all there for their own reasons but bonded in seeking, and not experience an extraordinary shift. My accommodation for the week, a hut aptly named Tigerlily, was occupied by some feisty female characters. When we weren’t at the beach or on the yoga mat, we would spend our free time cycling around the island, browsing the little beachside stalls, sunbathing, sipping pina coladas, sharing stories of love, loss and hope. In helping my fellow retreaters to heal I healed. There was a lot of laughter, as well as tears. It all flowed.

When it was time to return to mother Bali, a few of us were headed for the island’s cultural heart, Ubud. This was my Eat Pray Love moment. In fact, my friends had joked that I was becoming Julia Roberts. I certainly felt life was starting to take on a clichéd form at times. Ubud was gorgeous and very in your face. Loud, fast, sensual, everything I imagined it to be. As I enjoyed the indulgence of a hotel room to myself, in a bath tub overlooking the rice fields, I reflected on my journey to that very moment. Drinking a beer and listening to an album I’d loved since a young teen, I realised I felt an appreciation for myself that I hadn’t before. I’d come a long way. I was brave and fierce. Independent. Hopeful. Open. Alive. I was back to who I was. I’d lost her for some time. I didn’t know if I would ever find her again, certainly I took a risk to start over in the hope I might. And there it was, surrounding me as a melody, floating through the Balinese air in my bathroom. I’d come full circle. Back to my happiest, truest self. A 14-year old, content in her own company, listening to Natalie Merchant, in her bedroom, at peace. And the album playing? Tigerlily. Of course, I realised! And in that moment, I knew that some messages are there to be seen, and heard.

Heading out that night, I knew I was entering a new phase.

Dancing in the bars, knocking back the martinis with my new gal pals, chatting to crazy locals, making new friends, and sharing our stories, I felt a new freedom. It was a world away from the silence and modesty of Gili Air, but the perfect complement. Time to enjoy letting myself go. As the days in Ubud rolled on, a new connection bubbled up. I toyed with leaving it in Bali but decided to keep it rolling for a while. And so, a new kind of crazy entered my life.

Home from Bali and it was time to start afresh for real. Moving into a new home, changing jobs, making travel plans for later in the year. Life was exciting and new again. But I couldn’t stop thinking about the time on Gili Air. It was the closest I’d come to finding peace for some time. Had I been too quick to lose it and embrace this new craziness? Had I really appreciated the impact of everything I’d been through? Did I really need the crazy I’d allowed into my life? Was it good for me? As the weeks passed things got crazier and crazier. My friends no longer saw Julia, they saw a darker version of their pal, losing her mind and herself to something unhealthy. Becoming consumed by a connection that came and went, second-guessing why, a slave to connectivity, confused, incoherent. The peace and clarity of Gili Air, long gone. And all the inner work, so hard fought for, lost to something I was forcing, that was fading, but I would not let go.

Not ready to give up, I told myself you can give fate a helping hand. And sometimes you can, but fate will eventually take you back to where you were supposed to be. Things will either work out or they won’t. It’s a very simple concept. The connection continued in response to my reluctance to let go. And for a while I genuinely thought that I had sealed my future. That this was the reason I took a risk to make a change, but then, as I was warned by those who love me, and the signs I saw along the way appeared over and over, it faded again. Perhaps how it was always supposed to.

And now? I’m ready to live the lesson of Gili Air.

I’m getting closer to reigniting the crazy and I need to love myself more than that. So tonight, I played Tigerlily. I haven’t been able to since I was in that bath tub. Because when I listen to that album I hear only one thing, I hear the truth. I suppose this is why I haven’t been able to face it for so long. And why when I played it in Bali, I chose that exact moment. I was ready to hear it. I was strong again.

This time I’m listening to the messages I’m receiving. Spending time in the sun, letting myself go. Connecting with my true self, nourished with healthy food, exercise and solitude, I’m appreciating me again. Making new connections, seeing their reaction to me, observing myself in my element. Dancing, laughing, loving, creating. I’m reawakening and falling in love again, but with myself. And in doing so I am learning to let go. For indeed I do love myself, I doubted it for a while. When someone doesn’t love you back, you wonder. But no more. I am loving that I can love, a blessing in itself. I am trusting that I will love and be loved. I am learning not to force things, to let them be, let them go where they are supposed to. Letting go, isn’t just not holding on, it’s allowing everything to be as it is. Trusting that this is how it is supposed to be, that this is all it ever can be. And my connection? It’s how it is supposed to be, and in that I am happy to let it go. Because I love myself, I let it go.