Photography by: M M
There are moments every Fall when I walk outside and the light has changed. Not dramatically. Just enough that my body knows before my brain does. Something is winding down and ending.
In Nature, this is the last harvest.
Whatever wasn't gathered by now stays in the field. The leaves let go, the plants die back, and everything returns to the soil to feed what comes next.
Nature doesn't treat this as a tragedy. A forest floor covered in fallen leaves isn't a mess. It's next Spring's food. Endings are where beginnings come from.
The Roles We Carry
Most of the women I work with are somewhere between 40 and 60. They are capable, self-reflective, and very good at holding things together. They've usually built a life around a set of roles: The reliable one; The fixer; The one who keeps the peace; The one who carries a lot on her shoulders.
Some are mothers, daughters, sisters, spouses, leaders, athletes…
Some of those roles were assigned early.
In family systems work, we'd say you learned your place in the family long before you had words for it. You figured out what kept you safe, loved, and useful, and you got very, very good at it.
Then midlife arrives, often riding in with perimenopause, and the roles stop fitting. Not because you failed at them. Because you grew.
Shedding, Not Breaking
I think about a snake shedding its skin. The old skin isn't wrong. It protected her for a whole season. But it can't stretch any further, so she rubs against a rock until it splits and she slides out.
It looks uncomfortable. It probably is. It's also exactly what growth looks like.
The restlessness, feeling uncomfortable in your skin, the sudden sense that you can't do one more thing the way you've always done it. That's often the rub against the rock.
Photography by: M M
Gratitude First, Then Release
Here's what I've learned, personally and in the therapy room: You can't really let go of something you're still fighting with.
Maybe the people-pleaser in you kept you connected. Maybe the overachiever got you through school, career, and a lot of hard years. Those strategies deserve thanks before they deserve a retirement party. And, we can also start to let them fall away.
A tree doesn't resent its leaves as they fall. They fed it all summer. Similarly, we can honor what came before the same way. That includes the younger versions of ourselves who built these roles with whatever they had.
Release Lives in the Body
You can absolutely decide to stop over-functioning. Then, someone asks for something and your mouth says, “Yes!” before you've finished the thought.
That's not a willpower problem. Those patterns live below your conscious mind, in the nervous system and the subconscious. That's why I incorporate hypnosis in the work that I do (and why Heather incorporates somatic work). Insight is valuable…and…change tends to stick when the body gets the memo, too.
A Simple Harvest Practice
This week, before Fall slips away, try this:
Name the harvest. Write down three things this year gave you. Keep them.
Name what stays in the field. Write down one role, habit, or expectation you're ready to stop carrying.
Say thank you. Out loud is better. Thank it for what it did for you.
Let it go back to the Earth. Bury the paper, burn it safely, or tear it up and toss it in the compost. Your ritual, your rules.
Notice your body. What shifts when you imagine walking into winter without it?
If that last step feels like a lot, I made something to help. Below is a free hypnosis to accompany you through this release. Ten minutes, eyes closed, no homework.
The dark half of the year isn't something to push through. It's where seeds rest before they grow. Let yourself rest, too.
Here’s to what the dark will grow,
Nicole
P.S. — I recorded something special for you: A guided hypnosis practice for whatever you’re ready to leave on the field. Listen here:
