How Travel Has Become My Way Through Again and Again

In my airbnb in Paris about to head to Italy for the first time ever!

How Retreats Changed Me

Travel — especially retreats — have quietly shaped my life over the years.

My first retreat was in Sedona in 2017. It was just me and a handful of practitioners over a long weekend. It pushed me the farthest I’d ever dared to venture outside my comfort zone and was my first real introduction to intuition, spirituality, and the metaphysical world. I still remember hiking through the desert with a guy named Sequoia, throwing rocks and screaming into the open space thinking people are going to think I’m crazy. It was strange, uncomfortable, and freeing.

Not long after, my romantic relationship ended, overlapping with my dad getting sick and eventually passing away. At the time, it felt like too much. Looking back, I can see how that season didn’t break me — it broke me open.

Devil’s Bridge

Sedona, Arizona

Bali, Before Everything Changed

Right before my dad got sick again (January 2018), I took a three-week solo trip to Southeast Asia, starting with a retreat in Bali. That week changed me in ways I still can’t fully explain.

Thirty strangers became family. Eight years later, I’m still in touch with many of them. Being in a safe, intentional space — sharing honestly, processing emotions, laughing, listening to music, eating nourishing food, and being immersed in Balinese culture — shifted something deep inside me.

Bali taught me the power of intention, not as an idea, but as a way of living.

After the retreat, I traveled through Vietnam and Thailand. Within days of returning home, my dad had a stroke and passed away a little over a month later. My whole foundation felt like it disappeared when he died.

Returning to Bali to Grieve and Rebuild

Six months after my dad’s death, I returned to Bali (September 2018).

I reconnected with a friend from that first retreat, stayed at retreat center, revisited Soulshine Bali (where my 1st retreat was), climbed Mount Batur at sunrise, and had a cupping session that left my back black and blue — years of stagnant blood and energy finally releasing.

I later joined a medical mission (I’m a nurse) to rural Indonesian islands, living without electricity or running water. It was humbling and deeply uncomfortable. It held up a mirror I didn’t love — and it changed how I live and what I value.

When Life Unraveled Again

Over the years, when life unraveled — moves, breakups, uncertainty — I kept turning to travel.

A yoga retreat in Mexico helped me process another heartbreak. A solo trip to Europe for my 40th birthday helped me rediscover myself. Italy, especially, brought me back to life and reminded me who I am when I feel most like myself.

After that trip, I felt unsure of where I wanted to be and eventually landed in Georgia with a dear friend — who also happened to be my roommate from my Bali retreat. What was meant to be temporary became nine deeply healing months surrounded by nature, water, and stillness.

During that time, I traveled to Portugal, realized I wanted to be a mom, and pursued IVF on my own. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done — emotionally, physically, and spiritually — and it didn’t work. After more tests and hard truths, I stepped off the rollercoaster, exhausted and grieving. I’m still grieving not being a Mom and likely will be the rest of my life. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to accept, something I’m very much still working through. 

Then I met someone, and for a brief moment, everything felt like it was finally coming together — love, family, a future I’d dreamed of for most of my life. Until it ended suddenly and very unexpectedly.

Why I’m Going Back to Bali Now

That’s what’s brought me here.

I’m heartbroken. Surviving, and still standing — but tender and unsure of what comes next.

I’m going back to Bali because I need space. Space to heal a shattered heart, to reconnect with myself. Space to sit with grief — not just over a relationship, but over the life I imagined for myself that may or may not ever exist.

I’m going back to face my fear of daring to dream again.

Not dreaming about a specific outcome — a partner, a family, a version of life that looks a certain way — but dreaming about how I want to feel in my life. How I want my days to move. What kind of peace, joy, connection, and meaning I want to cultivate regardless of what unfolds.

Travel has always given me that perspective, even when I’m sad. Especially when I’m sad.

It slows me down. It opens me up. It reminds me that I am still becoming, still capable of joy, still allowed to imagine a future that feels good — even if it looks different than I once thought.

My energy is different when I travel. I’ve met some incredible people in my travels. I’ve had conversations with strangers I still remember. Some that changed the trajectory of my life. It’s the moments you can’t plan for that are usually the most memorable. I am so ready.

T minus eight days until I leave. Stopping in Vietnam first and then I’ll return to the place that changed everything, Bali.

I don’t know exactly what I’ll find there this time, but I know I’m open and ready for whatever is meant for me. 🌺

I’ll be posting on instagram and I’d love for you to follow along (@a.mayfield.wellness or click the instagram icon link on any page)