I don’t know where September went! It’s already almost the end of the month, and today finally feels like fall.
I am ready for it.
There’s something about that first real shift in the air that gets me every year. The cooler mornings. The softer light. Wanting to open the windows, pull out a blanket, make something warm to eat, and stay outside a little longer because the heat has finally backed off.
Fall always makes me feel like I can exhale.
It feels quieter somehow. Like permission to stop pushing so hard and start paying attention again.
And maybe that’s why I’ve been thinking so much lately about seasons—not just the ones on the calendar, but the ones we move through in our own lives.
Sometimes the season outside doesn’t match the one we’re in internally. It can be summer on the calendar and still feel like winter inside.
For me, winter has often been about slowing down and doing the internal work. Much like a tree that looks dormant and still, underneath the real work is happening to prepare for the outward work ahead.
Lately, I’ve also been noticing that I don’t want to hustle and push harder in so many areas of my life anymore. I feel like I’ve done enough of that.
I’ve worked through fatigue and illness. I’ve gotten so focused on getting things done that I forgot to eat. Like a lot of women, caretaking comes naturally to me, and I was thinking the other day about how differently I would treat someone I love.
If a friend or loved one was running herself ragged while she was sick, or ignoring meals because she had too much to do, I would tell her to stop. Rest. Eat something. Take care of yourself.
I wouldn’t tell her to push harder and get over it.
So why is that so often what I say to myself?
No, hustle isn’t something I want more of in my life now. And being productive doesn’t have to mean working all the time or playing through the pain.
So I’m letting go of some of that hustle, much like the leaves shedding from an autumn tree, and making more room for a slower pace.
More room to do what I actually want to do. More room to listen when my body is asking for something. More room to take care of myself with the same attention I give to everyone else around me.
I’ve been practicing asking myself two questions:
Where can I let go?
What do I need more of?
Letting go can mean letting go of the guilt that comes with taking time for yourself. Or letting go of a task that someone else is perfectly capable of doing.
And needing more doesn’t have to mean making some huge change.
Maybe you need a little more quiet. More time outside. More sleep. More time to write, read, walk, drink your coffee while it’s still hot, or just sit without someone needing something from you.
And it doesn’t have to be two hours carved out of a Saturday.
It might be five minutes on a Saturday.
What I’m learning is that the amount of time matters less than working with the time that realistically fits into the life I actually have.
Five minutes still belongs to me.
Making large, drastic changes isn’t always the best way to begin.
Spend a few minutes thinking about what your life looks like right now—today.
Where could you make a little room for yourself?
Is there something you might want to let go of?
You don’t have to do anything about it right now.
You don’t need a plan. You don’t need to fix anything.
Just think.
Practice turning some of your attention back toward you.
Thanks for spending a little time with me today.
Maybe this was enough for you today. If you ever want a little more, you’re always welcome to visit my website, where my writing lives, and take a little more time for yourself.
I’m looking forward to chatting with you again.
Kelly
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