What a difference five months makes. From the grasping positive beginnings to the onset of Autumnal blues, what a whirlwind of emotions and disappointments, frustrations, storms and heatwaves 2020 is turning out to be.
This time of year we expect and often welcome the changing season. Leaves begin to turn gold and orange, edging ever closer to the eventual death of summer. Pumpkin spice starts to beckon from on the horizon and as the new academic year readies to begin there tends to come a sense of renewal and new beginnings. This year, perhaps unsurprisingly, does not quite bring those same positive vibes as times past.
This time of year I usually experience a moment – a turning point, if you will – where that seasonal shift becomes tangible. It might be the falling of a leaf or the scent of cardamom and nutmeg. It might come on a chill breeze or in noticing an earlier sunset. It might be felt with September showers or the sudden desire to sink into a bubble bath. For 2020 it has come in the shape of an out-of-character longing to pull on a woolly jumper and curl up in front of the television.
Perhaps this is my subconscious anxiety manifesting as a protest to yet another turning point in my life and the facing of what will undoubtedly be a very challenging return to work. I find myself avoiding reality and turning to familiar activities and escapisms that have propped me up through so much of my adult experiences thus far.
This time of year I am usually facing and embracing that feeling of a new beginning, but now find I am desperately clinging to the last vestiges of summer, digging in my heels and disbelieving that autumn can be upon us already.
Perhaps this is my conscious certainty that things are going to get much worse again before they can start getting better?
Nothing is certain, except there will need to be pumpkin spice, hygge and a lot of good books to make it to the end of this year.
Elloise Hopkins.
