A journey back to myself
Elisa Schembri
After her father’s death left her feeling disconnected, Elisa Schembri travelled to Bali in search of something she could no longer find within herself. What she discovered was not an escape from grief, but a deeper understanding of healing, identity and the truth that our self-worth survives even when the life we knew falls apart.
A woman grieves many times throughout her life.
As we enter our childbearing years, we grieve the carefree version of ourselves. We grieve the freedom that motherhood gently asks us to surrender, even as it offers us a love unlike any other. As our bodies change, our energy shifts, and our reflections begin to look different, we grieve our youth. We grieve friendships that evolve, relationships that end, and dreams that no longer fit.
In a culture that celebrates youth and often treats ageing as a curse, these transitions can quietly erode our sense of self-worth. We begin to question our value, measuring ourselves against impossible standards rather than the wisdom we have earned.
A woman’s greatest strength lies in her ability to flow and nurture, but very often we are so caught up caring for those around us that we are unable to apply this principle towards ourselves.
“A woman’s greatest strength lies in her ability to flow and nurture, but very often we are so caught up caring for those around us that we are unable to apply this principle towards ourselves.”
For many years I have lived a yogic and holistic lifestyle. The principles of presence, compassion, and acceptance have become woven into my life.
Then, just a few weeks ago, my father passed away and my world fell apart. My heart broke in ways I hadn’t anticipated, and I felt deeply disconnected, as being in the present only amplified my broken heart and the profound sadness I felt.
Throughout his battle with cancer, I was convinced that I was prepared for his passing. But he fought so hard to stay alive that his desire to hold on until the very end affected me deeply, and in turn, my acceptance of his passing.
Caring for him and spending time with him had become one of the deepest sources of meaning in my life.
The grief wasn’t just sadness. It was exhaustion from loving deeply, and I found myself waking each morning unsure of who I was without that role and void of all the joy I had cultivated throughout my yogic life.
I just couldn’t connect with myself.
Having suffered from a bad postnatal depression in the past, I knew I needed to interrupt the cycle before my pain spilled into the people I loved most.
“But I also know that healing is not selfish, and that sometimes the bravest thing a woman can do is admit she needs nurturing too.”
Although I couldn’t connect to any of my lifelong dreams, one place kept calling to me: Bali. Not as somewhere to run away, but somewhere to remember myself.
The thought of leaving my husband and three children, even temporarily, felt like a difficult choice. The guilt was real, and my attachment and love for them made me question whether I could make that decision, especially being in such a vulnerable place. But I also know that healing is not selfish, and that sometimes the bravest thing a woman can do is admit she needs nurturing too.
So I came.
With no itinerary, no expectations, and no real plan, I simply asked the universe to show me what I needed.
And it did.
Beyond its beautiful landscapes lies something far more profound in Mama Bali. She is a womb for those ready to be held.
Ceremony is woven into everyday life. Gratitude, devotion, and community remain sacred, offering a gentle reminder that when we stay connected to something greater than ourselves, we are never truly alone.
My grief hasn’t disappeared.
It still walks beside me.
“Sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is pause, to rest, to seek healing without apology, to fill our own cup before trying to pour into everyone else’s.”
But it no longer feels like something I need to outrun. Instead, it has become part of the landscape of my heart - changing me, softening me, and teaching me.
Most importantly, it has reminded me that self-worth is not found in how productive we are, how youthful we appear, or how perfectly we hold everything together. Our worth remains constant, even when life strips away the identities we’ve built.
Grief is showing me that every ending carries the quiet possibility of a new beginning.
As women, we are constantly being asked to let go of one version of ourselves so another can emerge. That isn’t weakness - it is our greatest gift. We are creators by nature - not only of life, but of ourselves.
Sometimes the most courageous thing we can do is pause, to rest, to seek healing without apology, to fill our own cup before trying to pour into everyone else’s.
Because when we honour ourselves through life’s hardest seasons, we don’t lose who we are.
We simply emerge into where we are meant to be.