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Trips How a Wellness Retreat in Ubud Helped Me Grieve the Loss of My Dog
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How a Wellness Retreat in Ubud Helped Me Grieve the Loss of My Dog

Our grieving writer discovered Amrta Siddhi, an authentic Ayurvedic retreat where detox, nurturing and connection are the perfect medicine.

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By Jenny Hewett Published on Jul 23, 2023, 07:35 PM

How a Wellness Retreat in Ubud Helped Me Grieve the Loss of My Dog

Any dog lover will know that losing a four-legged friend is one of the most painful experiences in life. In a quiet village in Ubud, central Bali, our grieving writer discovered Amrta Siddhi, an authentic Ayurvedic retreat where detox, nurturing and connection are the perfect medicine.

Strength Not Size

MY PUPPY’S COLLAR, still stained with the beach and salt water and every memory we shared, hangs over my bed post. Those first eight months without Sid, I wept silently every day in the shower, feeling desperately alone in this unconventional grief, an overwhelming, all-consuming guilt no one understood but me. I avoided his favourite park and walks through the bushland near our home in Sydney’s northern beaches. I slept with his blankets under my pillow so I would never lose the delicious scent of him. The pain was shattering.

Amrta Siddhi
Amrta Siddhi, in a quiet village in Ubud

It’s been just over 12 months since I lost my two-year-old (now three-year-old) boy. It might have been easier if he had died. It was hard to believe that this intelligent, hilarious, affectionate Hungarian Vizsla I had raised from seven-and-a-half weeks old was anything but perfect. But as Sid grew, so did his shadow. By the time he was 18 months old, he was on an assortment of anti-depressants and meds, 15 pills a day to help him exist. My vet behaviourist once likened his condition to schizophrenia. We hid the scars; we stopped having people over. When I needed an X-ray and tetanus shot after he bit my hand one morning, I blamed myself. But it was an incident that resulted in a nastier bite to our beautiful neighbour that I began to question if he could ever be truly at peace.

Jenny and her Sid
The author and Sid. Images courtesy of Jenny Hewett

And so I made the most agonising, unnatural decision of my life. The day before our vet was to put Sid to sleep on his favourite bench in our backyard as the calming tunes my mum lovingly put on for him every morning played in the background, the behaviourist convinced me that he had a chance of thriving in a rural environment. So, three weeks later, somehow, my mum and I walked him out of our home for the final time and drove him to a rural kennel on the south coast where he would undergo specific training to be rehomed somewhere less triggering. He was ecstatic. My heart immediately deflated at the reality of never seeing, hearing or smelling him again.

Image courtesy of Amrta Siddhi

Losing Sid this way has been as painful as a death, and harder to articulate. When I had a panic attack at the sight of another Vizsla outside my gym, I knew I needed to seek help. I recently read somewhere that grief is an inside job. The words resonated so deeply they cut. I knew I had to take responsibility. I began seeing a pet grief counsellor, but wanted to dive deeper into healing. When I reached out to little-known Ayurvedic retreat Amrta Siddhi in Bali, co-owner Frank explained that he had also lost a dog, and I knew I had found a soft place to land.

Ayurveda grieving
Right image courtesy of Jenny Hewett

Tucked away down a small gang (aka alley) in the quiet local village of Nyuh Kuning in Ubud, Amrta Siddhi is an authentic Ayurvedic wellness retreat owned by Indian-born Dr. Sujatha and her German husband Frank. Ayurveda is an ancient holistic Indian method of disease prevention that aims to address imbalances through a combination of food, herbal and physical treatments and yoga. They offer panchakarma programs (which comprise of three phases: preparation, cleanse and rejuvenation) under the guidance of three incredibly caring, professional India-trained physicians. I swear by it and I know others do, too. Dr Sujatha’s intention for my 12-day program is for me to relax. “By day five or six of detox, you are like a zombie. You won’t be able to read or do anything for more than 30 minutes. You will want to go inward.”

She was right. A roomy, Deluxe Bungalow with a small terrace set among the gardens becomes my sanctuary and I spend a lot of time reading and journaling before the ghee freight train hits. There’s a pool on-site at Amrta Siddhi, but as it is forbidden to swim or lie in the sun during your detox, I never use it, nor, for that matter, do I feel like I want to. I’m assigned spa therapist and angel-on-earth Ari throughout my stay. She becomes a kind, caring, confidant who checks in on me and guides me through all my treatments, including daily abhyanga massage, virecana (the purge), decoctions and enemas.

My retreat begins with snehapana, drinking an increasing amount of mediated ghee every morning at 6:30 a.m. It’s a repulsive part of the process, but perhaps the most important. “Oil is love, you’ve got to love the oil,” says Dr. Sujatha. I eat only when I’m hungry, veggie soups for breakfast and dinner, and kitchari for lunch. I’m hanging out for day 10 when I get to eat fresh fruit and chef Manik’s vegetarian meals, especially the famed pumpkin pancakes. The food is so good that they offer a take-out or delivery service for outside guests.

By day four in the gentle morning yoga class, all I can do is lie on the floor like a discarded carrot. I’m as heavy as my heart. I’m irritated, hungry and feel like I’ve been at a two-day rave. Then something happens. I start talking to people. The meal area becomes an open therapy space with folk from all walks of life, an Israeli diplomat, a successful author, and a retired mum, sharing what has brought them here as we lament over how much cheese we plan to eat when we leave. I think about Sid, but mostly I let my body release traumas and be nurtured and nourish. I feel stronger in spirit and lighter in body. A year later, after months of stress and failed rehomes, Sid has found a home. I hope it’s his forever and still wish he could have been mine.  

www.amrtasiddhi.com; deluxe bungalows from US$3,990.


Images courtesy of Amrta Siddhi.

Written By

Jenny Hewett

Jenny Hewett

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