Hello, September.

It’s the 17th and I feel like I am just now realizing you have arrived.

I don’t know what I would do without you.

I hate to say it, but the past few years you have just been a reminder that it’s almost October.

Almost Joy’s birthday. Another year passing by without her here. ¬†And I didn’t really like you very much. You made me feel old.

But things have changed.

I feel a lot like you this year.

Hanging on to summer...

Hanging on to summer…

Especially now, when you are holding on to the last breath of summer and you aren’t quite decided on whether or not you are comfortable with yourself.

I know in a week, you will have decided to be who you are. Crisp, orange and red and golden and fire.

And like you, sometimes I can’t decide.

I want to hang on to being more like summer, because everyone loves summer. And she is so hot. And blonde and gorgeous.

But, I need to be who I am meant to be.

I think I finally realized that the times I feel most like a failure are the times I am trying to be something I’m not.

Like the time I tried to use a soft, sweet voice like my friend Mary. I am loud and bombastic and also since I can’t hear out of one ear all the time now, it’s even worse.

Or the time I tried to take the Orange Rhino Challenge: No yelling for 365 days straight.

I was miserable.

I felt so much better when I decided to be more myself and do the Purple Eggplant Challenge: No yelling for 365 seconds straight.

I succeeded.

And also I have decided to raise the stakes and do no yelling for 365 minutes. Not there yet.

Or the time I spent about 20 minutes feeling guilty that I wasn’t going to go to a Relief Society activity to can chicken.

No desire to do this. Not even a little.

No desire to do this. Not even a little.

I didn’t lie to myself and say I didn’t have time, or we had something else going on, or I would forget.

No, I just admitted to myself I didn’t want to go.

I had no desire to can chicken. None. Not one molecule in my entire soul wanted to can chicken.

And for that 20 minutes I thought some mean things about myself.

Like when the end times come, and everything is apocalyptic, my family will starve because I didn’t can chicken and everyone will say,

“Well, you should have been more prepared like us, instead of going to the park while we were canning chicken.”

And then we will be a post-apocalyptic chickenless family.

I felt so much better after I accepted that tragic reality.

Or when I tried for two years to bake the perfect loaf of bread. I even bungled bread machine bread. I felt so much better when I realized it wasn’t going to happen.

And I felt better when I realized there were many more things I could work on improving about myself that had nothing to do with bread or chicken or sounding sweet.

I realized I also get annoyed when you are unsure of yourself, September. And I realized that everyone loves you for who you are, not for when you try to imitate August.

Glorious September.

Glorious September.

So, thank you, September.

Thank you, September.

Thank you, September.


Thank you for reminding me to be fiery and full of wind-whipped divine discontent…to embrace that the winds bring the beautiful burning and shake off all the things I need to let go of, so I can look forward to a glorious rebirth in the spring.

Shaking It Off...

Shaking It Off…