Fall
Fall is my favorite season. Its the one with the crunchy leaves, the back to school commercials, and that nip in the air that means I can wear sweaters and boots. I fucking love wearing sweaters and boots.
It also means, this year, that I should be a month into my semester as a PhD student. It was definitely the right decision for me to withdraw, thought one of the hardest Iâve ever had to make. The idea of putting myself, my mental health, my happiness first is foreign to me. I am smart and strong enough to be set, stubbornly, on a track that someone had laid out for me a long time ago and that I went along with. No decisions or what-ifs. A plan.
Fall is my favorite season. I was reading recently why pumpkin spice invokes such popularity among people during this time of year. The article said itâs because pumpkin and cinnamon and that smell of fall make people feel like theyâre home. Fall is supposed to give you that warm feeling that bundles you up. Youâre safe, youâre ok, you have a plan. For me, fall is beginnings. This fall, I gave up on one beginning for another and every time I walk past that street where my department should have been, think about what my next steps are, or see friends who are on the track I willingly put to the side for the benefit for my mental health, I feel a pang of regret. Of homesickness.
My home has never been my home, I can see that now. I always made my education, my career, home. I could carry it with me on my back, like a snail in a shell, wherever I ended up. My family is not my home. Home is where the heart is and my heart was full ensconced into my success, at whatever cost. I gave up my home for the shot to try and fix me.
As I read through my tumblr from years gone by, there is always a similar theme. Loneliness and overwhelming emotion. Like trying to force a round peg into a square hole, I have been trying to force my logic to figure out my feelings, to control them. That clearly hasnât worked.
Last night, as I was in bed having probably my fourth or fifth panic attack of the day, I had a thought that cleared away that anxiety in an instant. Itâs something that Iâve been told but had never allowed to sink in (like so many other things).
I am the key to my success. I have the tools and I need to use them.
Stupid, right? How many times do I hear people say that to me? Iâve read it, seen it on TV, but for some reason in that moment, that square peg slipped into that ill-fitting hole, snug.
I can talk for days and years about how terrible things are and these feelings, but any changes that are going to happen are going to be made by me not for me.
I grew up with my family telling me what my opinions were. My favorite place was home with my family, my favorite color was pink, and my favorite season was summer.
My favorite place in the world is a place where I can be challenged to think. My favorite color is fire engine red. And my favorite season is fall.
And this writing will never win me awards, but itâs a start on a better track than I was on three months ago.
To new beginnings.
Happy fall, yâall.
















