in september, the city of loss.

so much is dying.

I’ve learned to accept September for the mass murder it is. As a person who represents change, I have found it most difficult to accept the many changes happening before my eyes this month while completely accepting the necessity of each of them.

Nothing is the same.

I am gutted and gratified simultaneously.

Disturbed and inspired at once.

So many parts of Huffington are moving right now (figuratively and literally) that I’ve suffered motion sickness for a month straight.

I’ve worn a new black dress every week, because something has died (necessarily).

I’ve been grieving the parts of business that shaped my idea of normalcy.

I’ve chosen PTA, sports, dinner nights around the table, silent evenings, random school lunch dates, afternoon naps, movie nights inside, and impromptu dance parties in front of the television over the stress of manual labor.

I feel the pain of losing people I didn’t know I ever needed in parts of my heart I didn’t know existed. The aches remind me that I am real… they are real… and what they’ve offered my piece of paradise will be missed.

I’ve decided not to sacrifice my softness for my salary. I’ve also acknowledged the fact that it is a privilege to be able to do so.

I’ve watched my housekeeper purge, removing things in my office that no longer serve me—mentally, physically, or emotionally.

I’ve packed away things and ended projects that are near to my heart because they require too much of me right now.

Somehow, I miss the walls of the space we grew from. Through the windows of the place we worked from daily over the last nearly two years, it looks so deserted. So abandoned. So empty. There was something so familiar about the floors and the shelves and the closeness and the tables and all the reasons it became our first headquarters.

Transitioning from a platform built for beauty and design was a gut punch. However, the ease of access, structure, and community for the new platform made moving my girls (book) club worth the black dress it required.

Lastly, I am still trying to find a moment to truly say goodbye to an event that I’ve hosted three years in a row. Its death is as simple as it is complex.

Write more. Do less.

It’s the theme moving forward and the reason September has been a month of grief and growth. Anxiety and inspiration. Goodbyes and hellos. Losses and gains. Deaths and births.

Letting go of things feels easier in September, but the pain still touches me.

Still awakens me before I’m due to be awake.

Still lingers in October.

Still creeps into my thoughts.

Still watches and waits.

Still hovers.

Still calls my name in the silence.

Still summons my vulnerability.

Still beckons for my tears.

Still promises me things.

Still kisses me in the morning.

Still reminds me that every day I must lose something to lighten my load and get to the place I feel most comfortable… most content… most confident… until it’s time to move again. Lose again.

Next September.

Now, September is almost over. So is the grief. May October reward us with the serenity of my sacrifices. I’m ready to hang my black dresses up and put on my fall uniform.