A Letter to Survive the September Scaries

Humans aren’t biologically wired for this input of information. Your brain is not broken. It’s society that needs a reset.

Hey you. Over there. The one with their shoulders up to their ears. Take a breath and pause for a moment. I mean it. One full inhalation and one giant exhalation. Right here, right now. Let it out with an actual sigh.

Summer is feeling like a distant memory, isn’t it? This time of the year can be all kinds of overwhelming. New bedtimes, early morning alarms, a constant influx of noise: emails from schools, homework routines, playdates, sports, back-to-school nights, a phone that never stops buzzing with texts announcing last-minute changes and questions that demand your attention. Even sleep is rudely interrupted by the things you worry you’ll forget.

Remember: it doesn’t have to be so loud.

Humans aren’t biologically wired for this input of information. Your brain is not broken. It’s society that needs a reset.

Think back to this summer when you sat on the porch and did nothing but listen to the sound of the wind. Think back to the moments you felt authentically attuned to the world around you: your child telling a story about a salamander they found under a rock. Chopping garlic in the kitchen, your mind wandering toward creativity instead of to-do’s. Curled up on the couch in the early morning with a book and a cup of coffee.

Remember: that was real life too.

Now everything feels urgent and it’s easy to forget that the moment in which you currently exist is a defining one. You can spend the next nine months surrendered to the rollercoaster of someone else’s priorities or you can determine your own. You can choose less noise this year. Less sensory bombardment. Fewer obligations. You can choose no, or even a moment to consider your options before taking on one more thing.

You can make time to hear the wind again.

My wish for you today is stillness. Can you find a moment to meet yourself there? The world will not fall down if you grant yourself a moment of reprieve from it. But you may find that you are less interested in holding up the world than you are in enjoying its gentle gifts.

Follow yourself back to simplicity and others will go too. Your own permission slip will become someone else’s. Maybe even your child’s.

Take a breath. Today is a new day.