September, my second-chance January, and a huge life change

September is here. Suddenly, almost three-quarters of the year have gone by. You don’t really know what you have been doing all of this time. It’s gone so fast. And despite how scary that seems, I have always welcomed September because this month demarks a new season – to me, it marks a new year.

I’m sure I’ve been conditioned to think this way since childhood. Where I was raised, September was always when the new school year started, and nothing will impact my memory more than the smell of new books, the excitement of getting new stationary, but also knowing that those long months of Summer Holidays (in Portugal school ended in June and so… it was about 2.5 months of holidays for us kids) were over, August was behind my back (August and January being my least favourite months of the year) and finally, FINALLY, I was going back to some sort of routine, getting to see my friends, break in those new books and pads. I’ve always had a good experience at school. I loved studying, I loved and, to this day, still love learning. Of course, there were subjects I didn’t like (yes, talking about you Maths and PE) and also I had some teachers who were quite scary, intimidating, and even mean. But for the most part, I absolutely loved returning to school in the month of September.

It also meant that I could try to do better. I remember trying to figure out new ways to organise my notes and trying to stick to the best study habits from the beginning. I also always hoped that maybe for some natural miracle, I’d become stronger and more athletic, and PE wouldn’t look so daunting for me. Unfortunately, most of these September resolutions would soon be forgotten. But that was OK. Because October, which is my absolute favourite month would come. And then there was excitement in the air for Christmas – my favourite event of the year.

And this is an important moment to remind myself, as an adult, that that child still lives in me, and it brings me great comfort to know that. Even after finishing my academic studies and getting myself into the world of grown-up jobs, September continues to be a month for new beginnings for me. Contrary to January, I don’t feel depressed or demotivated, with nothing to look forward to. I feel the opposite. The melancholy does find a way in, but it’s the kind of nostalgia one has for the long days of Summer. There is something to look forward to – cosy weekends, reading inside wrapped in a blanket, wearing thick jumpers, with a nice hot cup of tea. I’m looking forward to seeing the trees turn red and gold, and how sunsets take a different meaning – earlier, perhaps not by the beach, but reflecting that golden aura in the air. Gets chillier, and cooler and I love layers.

At work, something comes over me. I want to start a new project, perhaps do something differently, or try a new method on something. I usually have some sort of renewed energy, even if I did not come back from a vacation ( I never take vacations in August). I look around for new courses to do, cause the urge to learn comes back stronger in September, the muscle expecting it from so many years in school.

But this year, September is truly a new beginning for me. My life is taking a big turn. The turn that’s been needed for a long time. Sometimes you don’t reconnect to the child inside you. To the dreams, we used to have, and lose track of ourselves. Pretty much like a hamster, we get on that wheel, and we keep spinning, thinking that’s the way things are, the way it should be. You get numb. Dizzy. But you keep going cause that’s what everyone has been telling you to do.

Personally, I’ve had one of the toughest years of my life, but I am glad for it. It allowed me to see through the fog I had been immersed in that it was time to do something for myself. I’ve started to listen to my body, and then to the little signs life sometimes gives you but you are too distracted to see. The first big sign was in January, when after coming back from one of my favourite trips of my life, I saw how the company I work for was indiscriminately laying off people, amazing competent people who had given so much of their lives, their time to them, in the name of shareholder value. It hit me how we are really just numbers – except that we’re not.

I battled with my emotions, with depression, with anxiety. I felt frozen, not knowing what could I do, what could I plan, if anything was worth any effort. And then coming June, my landlord announced that I should pay about 30% more in rent, which is something that I could not afford – or accept. Living in London has become a Russian roulette – you never know when something will take away that safety you thought you had. Besides the terrible inflation and rising costs of living, I saw myself having no job security (besides being unhappy with the job itself, also a contributing factor to my debilitating mental health), seeing my savings going down the drain, knowing that every year this would be a battle – without owning my own place, dependent on mortgages increases, getting evicted or having to “evict myself”. Went on a flat hunt, just to realise everything was too hard – too expensive, too competitive. People are auctioning flats as if these were expensive works of art in the market sold off at Sotheby’s. Except that you don’t need an expensive piece of art – let the wealthy go on their little bidding wars. Yet, everyone has the right to have housing. Everyone has the right to have a refuge where they feel safe when the world around them is falling apart.

Ang going through all of this and, in the end, this space is not even yours, knowing that in about another year you may have to go through it all over again…My heart just wasn’t in it. I’ve been living in London for 8 years, loving it, hating it, but always knowing it was the right place to be. And suddenly, right now, it doesn’t look like it was. Not for me. Not at the stage I am now in my life.

Knowing that my heart wasn’t in it, I made a tough decision. I’m going back to Portugal. I will work and live there until the end of the year. And then, I’ll be embarking on the adventure of my life – a year of travelling, of enjoying the days as I want to enjoy them. There is so much work I am doing already on myself – to put myself first above anything, especially my career; to be kinder to myself, to allow moments of joy to take over my life, to allow myself not to be a productivity machine that has to be always on. And this decision is the first win of this battle I’m fighting for me, and for me only. Probably for the first time in my life, I am only thinking of myself and no one else.

2024 will be a year of rediscovery for me, but I won’t be waiting to start the work then. I’ve started and hoping to go stronger. I know there will be ups and downs, and this month will be hard. Moving is hard. Packing is hard. Having to say goodbye to this place where I loved to live in, by myself.

So, September is definitely my month of change this year. A start over. A reset. But it’s been hard – as many of my friends pointed out, it requires bravery, the kind of bravery that is all-consuming, all-encompassing. It’s been a roller coaster. But in a couple weeks, I’ll hopefully be settled back in Portugal. For a little while.

Will I come back to London? Likely. It’s true love that I feel for this city. But sometimes you have to let go of the things you love. In this case, to give you a chance at healing. At doing something different. At being human.

Does September feel like a “Second chance” January for you?

Love,

Nic

P.S. All of these photographs were taken on my last walk in the nature refuge Hampstead Heath has been for me in the past years.