The Alchemy Of Release & Repair

September feels like the universe’s reset button. For some reason, I associate September with the beginning of the end of the year. It’s not summer anymore and it’s not winter yet, the rains make an appearance here and there, making one more pensive. As it just precedes my birthday month, it also asks the big question: So… what are you still clinging to, and why? The air is cooler, the trees are casually letting go of their leaves like they’re above drama, and I find myself staring at my own mental closet thinking, "Should I finally declutter this emotional chaos?"

Letting go sounds glamorous until you actually try it. Sure, tossing that ancient chipped mug is easy, but letting go of fear? Of control? Of memories that stick around like that one guest who won’t leave the party? That’s graduate-level emotional work. Control, in particular, is my toxic ex. I keep thinking if I just plan enough, manage enough, micromanage enough, the universe will cooperate. It doesn’t. Fear is sneakier; the kind that whispers “what if” at 2 a.m. But September gently reminds me to stop being my own horror film director. And toxic relationships? Yes, even if they share your DNA, even if they’re labeled “family heirlooms.” Sometimes you need to pack them up and ship them out for your sanity.

But here’s the catch: I don’t believe in throwing out everything that’s cracked. Some things deserve a second chance, maybe even a glow-up. Enter Kintsugi, the Japanese art of repairing pottery with gold. Imagine a plate saying, “Yes, I broke, but now I sparkle.” Some relationships, habits, and passions are like that. They’re not trash; they’re just waiting for the gold treatment. A little time, a little patience, a little love, and suddenly they’re stronger, wiser, and more beautiful. Of course, this is where my brain throws a tantrum. What if I let go of something too soon? What if I hold on to something too long? The decision between release and repair is a constant internal debate. One moment I’m Marie Kondo-ing my life, the next I’m sobbing into an old T-shirt because it “has memories.” It’s exhausting. Yet, this struggle is where the real growth happens. The choice, not the outcome, is the art.

Sustainability has taught me to approach even my mental clutter with care. Throwing something away doesn’t make it vanish; it just changes where it haunts you from. I’d rather pass things on. Clothes, books, furniture, to someone who will love them. Maybe that’s what we should do with memories too: gently rehome them in the past where they belong, instead of keeping them on emotional life support in the present. And when I do hold on, I do it with intention. I hold on to my passions, the hobbies that remind me I’m more than my to-do list. I hold on to the letters and postcards that still make me smile. I hold on to that sweater that smells like a version of me I’m still proud of. Holding on doesn’t always mean refusing to grow; sometimes it means honoring the parts of you that shouldn’t be lost.

So, what’s worth the gold glue and what deserves the recycling bin? That’s the eternal question. No one can decide but you. September just gives me the space to ask it. I've learned that the balance between letting go and holding on isn’t something you perfect; it’s something you practice. Wow, inching towards my forties and I'm already sounding profound!

Next year I turn forty, which apparently means I’m now legally required to question the meaning of life while swallowing enough vitamins and omega capsules to rattle like a maraca. My mornings start with affirmations to align my chakras, and my nights end with articles on retirement that make me wonder if I should change my investment strategy now. Somehow, aging has made me profound, but honestly, I’m not complaining. If anything, I feel like a wise, slightly sarcastic sage who knows that life is too short for bad coffee, toxic people, holding on to things that don't matter and skipping sunscreen.

So, this month, I’m unclenching my fists, making peace with my quirks and cracks, and deciding which ones deserve to shine.