When Parts of Ourselves Return

There is something about the change of seasons that makes us notice.

In spring, the return of light can feel like seeing the end of a long tunnel. The days stretch a little longer, the earth begins to wake up, and there is a sense of possibility in the air.

Fall can feel different.

As summer gives way to shorter days and cooler temperatures, there can be beauty in the changing colours, but also a heaviness that comes with less light and the uncertainty of what lies ahead.

Nature is changing all around us. And perhaps, if we pay attention, it has something to teach us about the changing seasons within our own lives.

Every season asks something different of us. What we need to release in one season may be something we are ready to reclaim in another.

I was reminded of this recently in a rather ordinary place: my bathroom. For a time, I needed help with cleaning. As I cleaned that morning, I began to recognize parts of myself that were returning.

There may be seasons in our lives when our energy is limited, and accepting help is an important part of taking care of ourselves. Learning to conserve our energy and allowing someone else to carry some of the load isn't a failure at all. It is self-care!

Sometimes our circumstances change, and we find ourselves ready to take on some of the things we once needed help with. And when we do, we may rediscover something familiar in ourselves: a sense of capability, independence, enjoyment or simply the satisfaction of caring for ourselves and the things that matter to us.

But what returns doesn't have to look exactly as it did before.

Perhaps there was a time when we powered through an entire task in one day. Now, we may recognize the value of doing what we can, taking a break and returning when we have the capacity.

Reclamation can be small.

Nature doesn't change seasons overnight either.

And somewhere in the middle of scrubbing a toilet one morning, we might realize something unexpected.

It feels good.

Not because we've suddenly decided that doing everything ourselves is better. And certainly not because the help we needed before was somehow less valuable.

We simply recognize a part of ourselves we haven't seen for a while.

“Oh, there I am…”

And perhaps we've all had moments like this.

Part of moving through different seasons is learning to recognize ourselves as our capacity changes, without judging the version of ourselves who needed something different before. We can honour what we needed then, while becoming curious about who we are now and what we might have the capacity for in this season.

It might even invite us to think differently about what self-care means.

Sometimes self-care is asking for help. Sometimes it is rest. Sometimes it is exercise, meditation, a quiet walk or time away.

Or sometimes it is folding laundry, chopping vegetables, sweeping the floor, pulling weeds or, yes, cleaning a bathroom.

There is something quietly restorative about ordinary tasks. So much of modern life asks our minds to remain busy. We consume information, make decisions, respond to messages and think about what needs to happen next. Even in our downtime, our minds are often occupied.

But when our hands are occupied with something simple and familiar, our minds don't necessarily have to perform.

There can be space there.

Space to notice. Space to remember. Space, perhaps, for parts of ourselves to return.

And perhaps that is another lesson nature offers us.

Nature knows when to let go. It knows when to become quiet, when to conserve its energy and when it is time to grow again.

Perhaps we can offer ourselves that same grace.

There will be seasons in our lives when we need to release things. Seasons when we need more help. Seasons when our energy needs to be protected. Seasons when the path ahead feels uncertain or unclear.

And there will also be seasons when something we thought we had left behind quietly returns.

We don't have to remain who we were in the last season. Nor do we have to rush into the next one or completely reconfigure ourselves. We can simply notice what this season is asking of us, and perhaps notice the parts of ourselves that are quietly returning.

As the leaves begin to change around us this fall, perhaps there is an invitation to become curious about our own changing season.

What might this season be inviting you to let go of? And what parts of yourself might be quietly returning?

Tish