It feels like the first time I’m really witnessing the beauty of autumn. In the past, this time of year has filled me with a sense of urgency. Rather than heeding the season’s call to go inward, all I wanted to do was get the hell out. To rush “home” to my native Florida, where I was born and raised and existed until I moved to London at the age of 23.
This year, I’ve decided to stay in London over the cold and dark months that I previously avoided as much as I could. The first year that I’ve had unbridled freedom to be anywhere I want happens to be the first year that I’ve had the unbridled desire to be exactly where I am: home.
Despite living in London for almost ten years, I’ve treated it as a temporary stop over. As if instead of spending my life here, I was merely killing time until I’d be back in Florida again. But lately I’ve been questioning so much. I’ve been questioning everything.
It’s like taking off blinders for the first time. It’s overwhelming to see so much, to see the vast possibility, to see what I told myself wasn’t there. But it was always there. Even though I couldn’t see it, I could feel it. I always knew, even when I told myself false comforts contrary to that knowing.
Those false comforts were never really providing comfort. They were just telling me that how I was perceiving my experience was invalid. That I had to put up with it. That I didn’t have the power to change it.
Having taken off the blinders, I see the whole picture. The good. The bad. The ugly. Most of all, I see my power, even when the harsh voices in my head tell me that I am powerless. No way, I reply in amazement, I can do this.
“This” is something I’m still uncovering. Every time I think I’ve figured it out, I realise that I’ve created another version of that false sense of comfort and security. That’s okay, I tell myself. I’ve spent my entire life plugged into these survival mechanisms. Unplugging from them won’t be an overnight process.
I am, however, catching on more quickly to the moments that I revert to that autopilot. I am even catching myself before I revert and adjusting accordingly in real, precious time. I am able to see where I’m yearning to shrink and encourage myself in that moment with a gentle, No, we’re not closing our eyes or hiding anymore. We’re not letting fear dictate our choices. We’re not opting to merely survive.
I’m learning to thrive, baby. And it’s uncomfortable. It’s a lot of work and decision-making and pushing beyond the supposed safety of what’s certain.
It’s also witnessing the beauty of autumn for the first time. Not running from the dropping temperatures, hours of sunlight and golden leaves before I see that, Wow, there’s such breath-taking beauty and growth and learning here in this slowing down, in this turning inward, in this letting go… in this transition.
Melanie Albright 