Autumn is fractious and changeable; it heralds the end of summer and the long winding road into winter.
It’s been a tough two years as we slowly emerge from the long drawn out Pandemic, although perhaps not entirely out of the woods yet.
With its glorious ever-changing hues of red, gold, and orange, Autumn beckons us into winter.
As we meander into Autumn, so my mood shifts down a gear.
Since my summer break in Spain, I’ve been in neutral gear, not depressed or miserable, both of which I am accustomed to, but a feeling that I can’t entirely shift my gear into first.
Autumn heralds change a dampening down as we begin our hibernation ritual.
I love Autumn, the fading light as day slips into dusk, the weak sunlight on my skin, and if I catch the sun at the right time of the morning, I feel its diminishing warmth on my face.
Autumn is a season of cognizance, a time to prepare for the coming months of cold and dark.
Winter will begin to embrace us with its cold tentacles, and it feels like we should slow down, conserve energy and ground ourselves ready for the long winter.
Autumn is the start of a new school year, and it also coincides with my son reaching adulthood at the tender age of 18.
Those 18 years have evaporated, and life seems to be anything but a drag right now.
No sooner is the weekend done and we are back to work, Friday arrives before I’ve had time to breathe.
Menopause has also made me more philosophical, an overthinker by nature and certainly more introspective.
After a period of prolonged stress and pressure, when there’s no time for a break, stress is inevitable.
And it was while on holiday, I realised that I’d lost childhood joys with the arrogance of age and experience.
I no longer seek to learn new things favouring self-deprecation rather than my old have a go attitude.
The va va voom existence of not thinking and doing is complicit with menopause.
Are we more cautious and less adventurous?
I know those of you reading this will laugh out loud if you’ve climbed to the summit of Everest or walked the El Camino.
You can’t teach a dog new tricks rings true as if being older and wiser means there is nothing left to discover, explore or learn.
Children hold us back at a time in our lives when we are ready to find and try new things.
They still need our help and guidance, and patience.
Our reproduction has generously given to humanity, and now it’s our turn to explore and discover new adventures.
Our inner soul is calling, and we feel stuck in a rut, or at least I do, and that requires discipline to shift that mindset.
And this was brought home to me when we went on a trip to Vejer de la Frontera and spent two joyful days walking up and down the cobbled streets, appreciating the beauty of the scenery that surrounds this hilltop town.
I want to go on adventures together with my husband and explore outside of Europe.
I want to do things differently and experience the thrill of childhood again, of discovery and delight.
And while letting go of my children is hard to do, it is time for me to get on with life rather than holding on to those precious moments I have with my children and, if somewhat indecisive, move on.