Letting go of routine, making space for growth, and trusting the turn of the season.
September for me feels like a natural new beginning. The light is shifting as evenings stretch a little shorter, the morning air has a quiet chill to it, and trees are flirting with the idea of turning gold. There is something about September that feels like a natural reset – maybe it’s the echo of the school year rhythm, or simply the shift in the air. But it’s a quieter kind of reset. One that doesn’t ask for affirmations or resolutions, just a gentle awareness that the seasons are changing, and so are we.
I’ve always found this time of year grounding in a way that summer isn’t. The slower rhythm, the return of structure, and the earlier nights – it feels like an invitation to come home to yourself a little. And this year, I have chosen to really try and embrace the change.
The September Shift
The ‘ber months’, September through to December carry a quiet kind of magic. They’re transitional but not in a dramatic way – and are unlike the dark days of winter. The change is subtle, as the last of summer clings on whilst the rain starts to pour, and the fields are adorned with mist and dew. You can slowly start reaching for a jumper again and cosying up with a hot drink and feel a habitual sense of comfort.
Yet at the same time, the ‘ber months’ are a busy time of year for the corporate world. It starts to grind into gear, chasing end-of-year goals before Christmas gains full momentum. But this year, I am not rushing toward a Q3 deadline but instead moving towards self-investment. Whilst I am focusing on reflection, I am also looking ahead, searching for a full-time role in the marketing/communications industry. But I’m not chasing the fast pace of a big city life – I know that success for me looks more like balance, creativity, and a sense of pace. I want to move forward, of course, but with purpose and intent, not pressure.
So, for now, I am cooking meals that make me feel good, writing for the joy of it, and trying to embrace the small rituals that make this season what it is, grounding, golden, and good for the soul.
The Decision To Leave
For the past year and (almost) a half, I worked as a Barista at Boston Tea Party since returning from my travels. It was a lovely team, and I genuinely enjoyed being part of that rhythm – the chats over coffee, the team feel, and the sense of achievement on a busy Saturday. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t giving me what I really needed: time. Time to write, to create, to pursue the career I wanted. Time to spend weekends with the people I love.
I sat with the decision for a while. It was harder than maybe I had first thought – walking away from stability, and income, even part-time, comes with questions. Was it the right move? Should I stay whilst I continue to try and balance everything? But I kept circling back to this quiet knowing that I wasn’t giving myself a proper chance. That to build a portfolio I was proud of, to find a marketing role that felt aligned, I needed space — mental space, physical time, creative freedom.
There was no single dramatic tipping point. But the unpredictable rotas, the juggling of timelines, the constant background hum of “I’ll do that when I get a minute” – it added up. And eventually, I realised I didn’t want to keep asking for minutes. I wanted to make the time.
Leaning Into The Unknown
Right now, I’m only a few days into this new chapter. I don’t have a polished routine or a fully laid out plan, just a quiet commitment to finding my feet. It’s unfamiliar, and at times a little unsteady. There are moments where I catch myself measuring my progress against someone else’s timeline, as if everything good should happen by a certain date.
But autumn reminds me that nature never rushes. Trees don’t compare themselves. The light shifts slowly, the winds change when they’re ready, and things unfold exactly as they’re meant to.
So instead of trying to control the pace, I’m choosing to be present within it. To take each morning as it comes. To write when I feel ready. To trust that rest and stillness are not the absence of progress, but part of the process itself.
What I’m Holding Onto This Season
As I step into the ‘ber months, I’m trying to hold space for the in-between. The bits that don’t have clear outcomes yet. The mornings that start slow. The ideas that haven’t taken shape.
I’m not chasing productivity in the traditional sense. I’m chasing presence. The kind of quiet creativity that grows roots underground before anything is visible above the surface.
Here are a few things I’m grounding myself in right now:
- Forest walks that don’t count steps or distance
- Morning movement that makes my body feel good
- Writing without knowing exactly where it’s going
- Cooking meals that feel like a hug
- Making space for joy without needing to earn it
- Trusting that it’s okay not to know the timeline
If this season has a message, I think it’s this: you don’t need to be in bloom to be growing. I don’t know exactly what’s next, but I know I’m ready for it when it comes.
Life of Becky 