Confessions of a Sun Baby – Marking Time Gently

26 Aug Confessions of a Sun Baby – Marking Time Gently

Please note: Any client stories or examples shared on this blog are composites drawn from common themes across many experiences. All names are fictitious, and nothing here represents any single person or actual client.

Have you noticed it yet? The light in late August arrives a little more slanted. The evenings cool sooner. There is still warmth in the afternoon, but something in the air has already begun to lean toward fall.

This is one of the year’s quietest turning points. And seasonal transitions can stir more in us than we expect.

For some people, the end of summer brings relief. For others, it brings sadness, anxiety, nostalgia, or a tenderness that is hard to explain. You may notice your body responding before your mind has words for it: a heaviness in your chest, a desire to slow down, a shorter fuse, or a quiet grief for the season that is ending.

None of this means something is wrong with you. Seasonal transitions and mental health are connected because our bodies are always listening to the world around us.

We do not have to brace for every change. Sometimes the most healing thing is to slow down enough to notice that we are standing in a doorway. Even if we cannot see or know what’s on the other side.

I feel it more this week than most. Late August holds my birthday, and I have loved my birthday for as long as I can remember! My mom used to call me a sun baby, and I took it as the sweetest thing. I was conceived while my parents were living in Hawaii, and though I have never lived there myself and claim no lineage to the islands, some part of me feels the sun is simply encoded in me.

I have always felt most like myself in warmth and light. So the end of summer and the turning of my own year tend to arrive together, making me tender toward this season and curious about what it asks of us.

Why Seasonal Transitions Can Feel Emotional

A seasonal transition is not just a change in weather. It is a shift in light, routine, temperature, sensory cues, and emotional meaning. Your nervous system notices.

Shorter days, cooler air, earlier sunsets, and the return of school or work rhythms can all send signals to the body. From a nervous system-informed perspective, your system is always scanning for what feels familiar, what is changing, and what may need attention.

That is why late summer can feel heavier than it “should.” The approach of fall can bring up old associations: back to school, back to work, stricter schedules, less ease, more pressure.

Instead of asking, “Why am I so off lately?” you might try, “I am standing between two seasons, and that asks something of me.”

Honoring the Ending Before the Beginning

Every threshold holds two things at once: the ending of what was and the beginning of what is coming.

We often rush toward the beginning and skip the ending entirely. Yet endings deserve a moment of their own.

Summer carries a certain permission: longer light, slower mornings, open windows, bare feet, time near water, or simply the feeling that life has a little more room in it. Letting that go without acknowledgment can feel like a small loss, even when we are ready for what comes next.

Fall does not have to mean a hard pivot into productivity. You are allowed to step into the new season gradually, noticing as you go.

In therapy, this kind of pacing matters. Whether we are working with anxiety, trauma, burnout, or life transitions, the body often responds better to gentle orientation than sudden pressure.

Why I Protect Slowing Down

For most of my life, summer has come with a built-in pause. I work in the schools, and for many years I also taught as an adjunct professor. Summer carried a natural slowing down, a season made for savoring. I came to count on it.

When I built my private practice, I made sure to protect that rhythm with intentional time out of the office. That intention came from learning just how much I need pause, space, and restoration.

Not everyone gets a summer break built into their life. Sometimes we have to build our pauses ourselves, in whatever size we can manage: a week away, a weekend with no plans, a single slow afternoon, or ten quiet minutes before the day begins.

Some of my most treasured days are spent at a family member’s home on a lake. Out there, time slows down and sometimes seems to stop altogether. The quiet is broken only by the hum of a distant lawnmower, the buzz of cicadas, and the ripple of water against the dock.

Those late summer sounds pull me into the present. They remind my body: here, now, enough.

A Gentle Practice for Marking the Seasonal Shift

Marking time does not require a grand ritual. It asks for attention, honesty, and a willingness to pause.

Try this simple practice as summer begins to turn toward fall:

Find ten quiet minutes. Sit somewhere you can see a bit of sky, greenery, water, or natural light. Let your breath settle without forcing it.

Name the season you are leaving. Ask yourself: What did this summer hold for me? Joy, rest, stress, grief, growth, beauty, survival? Let whatever comes be true.

Offer a small goodbye. You might place a hand on your heart and quietly acknowledge the season that is ending. This is not about forcing gratitude. It is about closure.

Turn gently toward what is next. Ask: What do I want more of in this coming season? Not a resolution. Just an honest leaning.

Choose one small anchor. Maybe a morning candle, a slower cup of tea, a short walk at dusk, a few minutes of stretching, or a steady bedtime sound.

For those who like guided practices, Dr. Sara Teta’s 33 Nervous System Supports offers simple, therapist-approved tools that can fit into ordinary days when stress or transition feels close to the surface. For readers building a calming evening routine, some find steady sound helpful as summer’s outdoor hum begins to fade; the Ora Sound Machine may be a gentle support to consider when building a grounding routine.

These tools are not cures or requirements. They are simply possible cues of comfort, and your body gets to decide what feels right. 

Affiliate disclosure: This post may include affiliate or resource links. These are shared as optional supports, not as replacements for therapy, diagnosis, or medical care.

Birthdays, Bodies, and Taking Stock Gently

It is not only the calendar that turns. Birthdays, anniversaries, and personal milestones are their own kind of season.

This year I turn 42, and I notice I am listening to my body a little more closely.

I think of my mom in the eighties and nineties, baby oil and foil, stretched out on her metal fold-up chair in the sun. I think of my own years chasing that same glow at the tanning salon with friends in high school and college (I’m sending so many sorries to my dear skin!)

I love the sun no less. I simply tend my skin more carefully now.

My mom has been gone twelve years, and the summer light still brings her close. Joy and missing in the same breath. Marking time has a way of doing that. It softens how we treat ourselves, if we let it.

A birthday can tempt us to measure the year and decide whether we have done enough. I would offer a softer frame: a birthday is another doorway. Another chance to notice where you are and lean kindly toward where you are going.

When to Reach Out for Support

Some seasonal tenderness is part of being human. But you do not have to minimize what you are feeling if the change feels bigger than expected.

It may be worth reaching out for support if sadness or anxiety feels intense, your sleep or appetite changes significantly, old memories feel activated, you feel dread as fall approaches, or you find yourself withdrawing from people and routines that usually support you.

Therapy can offer a steady place to explore what this season is touching. Depending on your needs, approaches such as Therapy, Somatic Experiencing, EMDR Trauma Therapy, Reiki, Wilderness Therapy, or the Safe & Sound Protocol may be worth exploring with a qualified professional.

This blog is educational and does not replace therapy, diagnosis, or medical care. If you are in immediate danger or thinking about harming yourself, call or text 988 in the U.S. or contact local emergency services.

Reflective Prompts for Late Summer

What did this summer give me that I want to carry into fall?

Where am I rushing toward a beginning and skipping an ending?

What does my body seem to know about this transition?

Common Questions About Seasonal Transitions

Why do I feel sad or anxious at the end of summer?

The end of summer can bring changes in light, temperature, routine, and emotional meaning. Your nervous system may respond with sadness, anxiety, nostalgia, or restlessness. This does not mean something is wrong with you; it may simply mean your body is noticing change.

Is end-of-summer sadness the same as seasonal affective disorder?

Not always. Many people feel wistful as summer ends. Seasonal affective disorder is a type of depression with a recurring seasonal pattern. If your mood changes are persistent, intense, or affecting daily life, it may be helpful to speak with a healthcare or mental health professional.

What is one simple way to support my nervous system during a seasonal transition?

Pause for one minute. Notice your feet on the floor, take one slow breath, and name one thing that is ending and one thing you want to carry forward.

A Soft Landing

As the light shifts and Labor Day approaches, I hope you will give yourself permission to slow down at the doorway.

You do not have to brace for the change. You do not have to sprint into the next thing. You can stand here for a moment, honor what is ending, and turn gently toward what is beginning.

That, to me, is what it means to mark time gently.

If this season has you wanting more support, you can book a free consultation with us and learn what therapeutic options we can offer. Both myself, and Grace O’Donohue, MS, MHC-LP, have availability to work with new clients. You are welcome here, exactly as you are.