21 articles

After one of the most challenging years of my life, I think I finally realise what burnout is. The saddest thing of all is that now I am on the right side of my experience, I watch helplessly as others around me experience the same thing but with different outcomes.

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When I set out on what I half-jokingly called my adult gap year, I had a very clear picture of what I was chasing. I wanted adventure. Something new every day. A change of scenery. Access to incredible things for my photography.

Yes, I’ve been to some incredible places over the last few months. But what I’ve realised is that when you don’t have a “home” to go back to, or more importantly, no clear end date, even the most remarkable experiences begin to feel… normal. And normal, when stretched too long, loses its magic.

A personal guide to tuning in, slowing down, and finding your way back to yourself. There’s no one-size-fits-all when it comes to nervous system support.It’s not about following a strict wellness checklist or chasing perfection — it’s about tuning into your own rhythms, your own seasons, and your own signals.

Four months ago, I packed up my perfectly curated Melbourne life, placed it neatly into a 3x3 storage cage, and boarded a one-way flight. Since then, I’ve travelled through Bali, Vietnam, Cambodia, Kuala Lumpur, and Sri Lanka, with Thailand just around the corner.

Something remarkable happened to me the other day. It won’t sound impressive to you, but I found it profoundly telling about my current mental capacity compared to where I was a few months ago. I got a song stuck in my head. I know it sounds so basic, but I do not remember the last time something as pedestrian as this happened to me. My mind is used to running about 100 mph with so many pointless things: the self-narration, the criticisms, the to-do list, the judging, the what-ifs, the wondering what was meant by something someone said. It’s all just noise. None of it matters. Not really.

When I look at the modern world of yoga, I see familiar patterns: the yoga studio, the teacher, the aspirational "yoga body." Much of the messaging circles around self-improvement. But the deeper message, the one that stayed with me through all my trainings, is that yoga isn’t about becoming someone new. It’s about remembering who you've always been.

Or, what happened when I threw out the itinerary and finally listened to that quiet inner voice. This isn’t an anti-blog. It’s not a rebellion against to-do lists, or a rejection of all the amazing things Bali has to offer. It’s simply an invitation to do things your own way.

Why Slow Travel in Bali Changed Everything. After the privilege of visiting Bali five times, I’ve realised we no longer need to chase the tourist trail. We’ve already ticked off the temples, the beaches, the day trips. So this time, we chose to stay still. We let Bali show us something else entirely: a slower rhythm, a different kind of magic.

A Return to Self, Through Movement and Community. It’s been six wonderful weeks of daily practice at Alchemy Yoga & Meditation Centre in Ubud. Six weeks of breath, sweat, stillness, and subtle transformation. We chose this space instinctively, drawn back by the magic of the Alchemy café, which we first fell in love with eight years ago. The yoga studio felt like a natural extension of that same energy: nourishing, grounded, and open-hearted.

We left Bali today after two wonderful months of getting to know ourselves again. That might sound odd, but when you’ve lived in survival mode for so long, it’s impossible to know who you are beneath the armour—armour that’s protected you from chaos, but also from truth. Truth like: you were ticking boxes, going through motions, cohabiting with someone who was quietly slipping into sadness. And truthfully, the silence about that sadness made it hard to distinguish what was "normal" from what was drowning.

In a world that constantly demands our attention—from deadlines and devices to the never-ending to-do lists—it’s easy to drift away from ourselves. But coming home to yourself doesn’t require a retreat or a spa day. (Although you should do these things too.) Sometimes, it doesn’t need to cost anything. Sometimes, it’s about the smallest gestures—things we can do right now, wherever we are, to re-centre, ground, and feel more us again.

I’m sitting in a café in Ubud, Bali, thinking about where we’ll go next. But then it hits me—we’re not traveling in the conventional sense. My husband, my partner in adventure, is working much like before, just with a changing backdrop and longer breaks. And me? I’m building something of my own that weaves all my passions: writing, photography, yoga, and meditation.

I have been in Ubud for three weeks now, and thanks to an extended visa, we get to stay for another 30 days. It might seem unusual to settle in one place during a gap year, but in many ways, it feels like we’ve moved here—at least temporarily—to rest and recalibrate. This gap year is not just a break from work but a departure from the world I used to inhabit. The transitions between countries won’t be rushed; moving every week would be unsustainable. Instead, we are easing into a rhythm, embracing a slower, more intentional way of being.

Yesterday, I attended a Balinese purification and blessing ceremony with Tri Desna in Ubud. While the full impact of letting go may take days, even weeks, today, I feel lighter. Rested. Unburdened. Even in the midst of a gap year—a time meant for freedom and exploration—I had unknowingly packed emotional baggage alongside my travel essentials. We all do.

The first week of stepping away from a structured career into the unknown is filled with reflection. This gap year isn’t just a vacation—it’s the beginning of a deliberate shift toward living more fully, exploring new ways of being, and embracing the freedom that comes with uncertainty. It’s about letting go of the rigid structures that have defined my identity for years and stepping into a life designed around passion, purpose, and presence.

Finding trust in yourself so that you can trust the journey you are on. Choosing to believe that not to know that what is happening at any given time is ok it’s part of the process. It's all part of what will one day make up your story. The right here, right now can feel heavy, uncomfortable or painful but it is temporary. It will pass. You cannot feel the depths of every experience if it is only the fear you let in. What if you were to explore beyond the fear? Beyond the pain, there will be a message, a lesson or something stuck that you have yet to explore. Without delving into what it means, you are missing the lessons your life tries to show you. The parts of you that will make you all you know inside you already are. The parts of you that you long to share and be at ease with, the raw the vulnerable, the real you. Moving through the pain, into understanding is how you find freedom in letting go.

Only a 6-hour flight from Melbourne, I took the plunge and decided to undertake my Yoga Teacher Training. Now, what they don’t tell you is that it is more than learning poses and moving through transitions from one position to another, it's an eye and heart-opening experience, and if you ever do a YTT know that you will find yourself ugly crying on your mat.

The overarching message that I got from this book was that you can unleash the power in the quiet and learn to be more of yourself in the not-so-quiet. Social and other so-called extroverted activities are learnable skills that can be scaled gradually so all introverts can enjoy both the solace and the social, in a setting and environment that nurtures them. It’s ok to be the person looking for the most interesting conversation in the room,

Have you ever really thought about how you determine your value, how much are you worth and if your worth is measured and paid for in currency, should it be? As a culture, we seem to be focused on how much money people have. But there has to be other ways to look at how you internally measure yourself.