It strikes me, pierces through a thick fog. I am carrying a deep pain about the love I am failing to give, the loving I am failing to do. If I observe it closely, I understand that this is another example of fear holding me back, hurting me and those I want to love. I feel deep shame for my shortcomings as a friend, and, frustratingly, that same shame blocks me from making the necessary changes: taking accountability, putting in the work to change. I’m cleaning my room when this realisation blossoms somewhere in my heart and, as I sit on the floor furiously matching and rolling up the socks in my laundry, I let myself think of those I am not showing up for - feel the accompanying pain and regret. “Spring cleaning” makes sense": Spring is the arrival of new life, of growth from the muck, of promise and excitement. Maybe it’s because I’m an October baby, but Fall feels ripe with that same potential. As I walk from the crisp, apple September into the deep burgundies, rusts and mosses of October, to the damp and dark November, I want my load to be light. I want to hibernate, rest, and nurture the parts of myself that get forgotten about in the fever of Summer. We shed to give room for growth.

I’m entering the last 3 months of the year and it feels like a good moment to take stock of what the year has been so far. I started writing here around 10 months ago, just before going to Nepal. In Nepal, prolonged stillness gave way to a deeper connection with myself and my surroundings, which in turn made it easier to feel inspired, write, read, slow down, listen to my body, take care of myself. I remember feeling anxious about returning to Canada, where the pace of life can feel unsustainable, and where my social life often takes priority. It’s beautiful to look back on how that has set the tone for the rest of the year. If I had to summarize what this year has been about, I would say that it’s been about growth. I’m slowly learning how to challenge my entrenched ways of seeing things - myself, others, the world around me. I’m beginning to accept that the way I see things is not an objective fact of life. That the stories I tell myself about myself and others are only that: stories, that change depending on my mood, my circumstances, where I am in my cycle.. That’s not to devalue those stories or feelings, but rather allow them to loosen a little; leave a little room for imagination, for telling a story that lessens the pain a little. I’m proud that I’ve actively pursued that growth: by taking therapy seriously, by trying to be honest with myself about my insecurities, my needs, my fears - even when it’s uncomfortable. I think it’s brave to be open to the idea that you’re not a fixed, unchanging entity; to think that life can become better for you; to want to live more authentically. I think the time is ripe to tether some of these realizations to tangible changes in my life: I want to use these last 3 months of 2024 to create healthier habits, be more intentional with setting goals and taking care of myself so that I can balance my various interests and needs. I am craving a routine.