September's Guide to Professional Leaf Peeping

September's Guide to Professional Leaf Peeping

I spent the entire summer telling myself I'd slow down "after this one thing," "once the kids are settled," or "when work calms down." Spoiler alert: work never calms down, and kids are never settled.

So here I am in late September, looking at my calendar like it's written in hieroglyphics, wondering why I thought signing up for seventeen different fall activities was a good idea.

The Pumpkin Spice Paradox

Can we talk about how pumpkin spice season has become the ultimate metaphor for how we approach self-care?

We get all excited about "cozy fall vibes" and "slowing down for autumn," but then we pack our schedules tighter than a pair of Jordache jeans from 1985. We're out here buying pumpkin candles while scheduling ourselves into oblivion.

I caught myself doing this exact thing last week. I'm literally planning my "relaxing fall evening routine" in my calendar app. The irony wasn't lost on me.

If you have to schedule relaxation, you're probably doing it wrong.

September's Sneaky Lesson

But here's what September actually teaches us, if we're paying attention.

Those leaves aren't falling because they're giving up. They're falling because they know when it's time to let go.

Maybe we could learn something from trees. They don't feel guilty about shedding what they no longer need. They don't apologize for changing colors. They simply do what they need to do to prepare for what's coming. Meanwhile, I'm over here feeling bad about canceling plans I never wanted to make in the first place.

Let's Talk About Hygge, Because Someone's Selling It to Us Again

Every year around this time, some corner of the internet rediscovers "hygge" like it's a newly excavated Viking artifact instead of a Danish word for "sit down and be cozy, you maniac." Candles. Wool socks. A blanket that costs as much as a car payment. The whole aesthetic is being sold to us as rest.

Meanwhile, the same women buying the blanket are answering work Slack messages at 11pm with the blanket draped over their shoulders like a cape, because apparently we've decided cozy and unavailable can't coexist. Hygge was never supposed to be a purchase. It was supposed to be a permission slip. Somewhere between Pinterest and the Target seasonal aisle, we turned a mood into a to-do list item, and now we're stressed about achieving the correct amount of coziness by a specific date. If you're rushing to make your house look restful, you have already missed the point, and also possibly your bedtime.

The Great Fall Candle Re-Buy

Speaking of purchases masquerading as peace: I would like to talk about the phenomenon of buying the exact same fall candle every single year like it's a pilgrimage. Leaves. Apple Something. A name like "Harvest Hearth" that means nothing and yet means everything. We already own four candles from last September that are three-quarters full, sitting in a drawer, patiently waiting to be forgotten again. Doesn't matter. New candle, same scent family, non-negotiable.

Here's what I've decided this is actually about: it's not about the candle. It's the one repeatable, low-cost, zero-guilt ritual left in a season that otherwise demands everything of us. Nobody needs your buy-in on the candle. Nobody's waiting on you to light it. For four dollars and a lighter, you get to declare, unilaterally, that the season has changed and so have your terms. That's not frivolous. That's the most efficient therapy session available at the grocery store checkout line.

The September Self-Care Challenge

So here's my challenge for the rest of September: let's be more like trees and less like that person who says yes to everything and then complains about being busy.

Drop something that's not serving you. Don't apologize for changing your mind about commitments that drain you. Prepare for what's actually coming instead of what you think you should be doing. And maybe, just maybe, actually drink that pumpkin spice latte slowly instead of chugging it between meetings.

If we can't figure out how to slow down when the entire natural world is literally showing us how it's done, when the hell are we going to learn?

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September isn't just the Monday of seasons. It's also our annual reminder that we're allowed to change pace without asking permission.

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Content shared here is for educational and informational purposes only and does not constitute medical advice or establish a clinician-patient relationship. The views expressed are my own and reflect a functional medicine perspective layered on top of standard medical care.