September 2025

A leap into something new...

Summer has ended, and we are well on our way into fall. The weather has cooled to the point I need a sweater in the morning, and the light outside is changing. I can’t explain what it is or how it’s different, but something about the afternoon sunshine gives me autumnal butterflies like I know something great is coming.

And the leaves are starting to change.

The Gatineau hills will soon be ablaze in scarlets, yellows, and fiery orange leaves. But for right now, just a few trees here and there are beginning to change.

In a forrest of green, there’s one tree that’s turned yellow and is dropping leaves. Or on a laneway lined with foliage, one of the bunch is tinged orange or red at the edges. That’s been the case for weeks now, and this isn’t the first year it’s happened like this either.

It was mid August two years ago, and I saw a tree already starting to turn. My heart sunk. The trees were signalling that summer was over, yet I felt like it had only just begun. I noted this to my ever realistic husband who promptly responded with:

“Oh, that’s because they’re sick.”

I was shocked. It felt like he’d pulled a glimmering gemstone from a pile of rocks and placed it in my palms. Like this earth shattering knowledge had existed for millennia, and no one bothered to tell me.

“What do you mean they’re sick?” I asked.

“Those trees are unhealthy.” He shrugged. “So they start losing their leaves sooner.”

My mind was blown. It seemed so intuitive. Of course the sick trees would turn first. They signalled the coming of autumn earlier because they were more sensitive to the stimuli that harkened the change of season.

The sick trees were more sensitive to the world around them.

I felt almost vindicated. This explained so much.

Some days it feels like I’m watching the world burn down around me. My insides shrivel like a piece of plastic on fire, and I’m paralyzed. I can’t do anything. My energy is zapped, but I have to keep going.

I haven’t exactly hidden my struggles with mental health, but I haven’t advertised them either. I mean, who wants to admit online they can DIY just about anything but the serotonin and dopamine they need to function.

At the slightest hint of change, my body and my mind react. It feels like my threshold for… really anything is so much lower than it should be. So much lower than I wish it was.

I’m a sensitive tree turning colours before my friends.

With that realization, I’ve had to take a hard look at the life I allowed to build up around me: the patterns I’ve fallen into without realizing, the things I’ve allowed in my mind and body, and the way I spend my time.

On my 27th birthday I gave myself the gift of a ‘dumb phone’. It’s just my regular smartphone but with an app that changes the interface so to a minimized text list for quick access. Like this:

Of course I still have all my normal apps, it just takes an extra step or two to find them. Just the simple disruption to muscle memory in opening social media was enough to help cut my screen time to nearly a third of what it used to be.

I’ve also started being more mindful about how I feel after scrolling on social media.

Spoiler alert: I didn’t feel great.

I still use my social media (more than I want to), but I took a step back from trying to to create content for social media, specifically on Instagram. I didn’t feel like I was able to authentically share my thoughts and mind. Attempting to please tyrant named “the algorithm” was like trying to squeeze a square peg through a round hole.

I also realized the time I spent scrolling could be used writing instead. (mind blowing, I know)

And that’s what I did.

I tried to channel the best and brightest moments of my energy into writing, and it’s paid off! In the last year I have progressed in leaps and bounds on my main writing project and am nearing the finish line.

So as I’m tying up the loose ends and editing the project until it shines, I’ve started to reassess my relationship with social media. As this season of intense focus shifts with the weather, I’m looking for ways to more authentically engage online, and this seems like a lovely way to do it.

Writing is my most comfortable form of communication, so sharing with you here feels natural.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read these little thoughts of mine! Due to the aforementioned lack of neurotransmitters, I don’t foresee showing up in your inbox all that much, but I hope to send out quarterly updates on writing projects and the occasional essay.

All the best,

Gabby