Seasons Change

Spring into summer, summer into fall, fall into winter — and then the cycle starts again.

Some people measure time in birthdays or milestones. I measure mine in moods, playlists, and outfit changes. The seasons don’t just shift the world around me — they change the version of me that shows up.

Every year, like clockwork, I can feel the transitions. In spring, I become my most structured self. My playlists are upbeat, my planner is full, and my motivation peaks. I want to organize everything — my space, my plans, my goals. It’s the season of structure and self-improvement, the clean-slate energy that makes me want to be “that girl.”

Then summer comes in like a warm, impulsive friend who tells you to relax. My routines dissolve. Suddenly, all I want is to be near water — lake days, beach trips, late-night swims. My mindset shifts from disciplined to dreamy. I start craving adventure and spontaneity, like maybe I could just throw everything in a backpack and figure life out as I go. (Which, to be fair, I kind of did when I moved to Rome in the fall of 2024.)

By late August, though, the energy starts to change again. As the air cools, so do I. Summer’s chaos fades and I start craving meaning and direction again. Fall always makes me more introspective — it’s when I get back into fitness routines, rediscover my creative spark, and reconnect with the grounded parts of myself I might’ve neglected. There’s something about the crisp air and golden light that makes me want to reinvent.

Then winter arrives — the season that feels both heavy and electric. I usually find myself pulled toward big cities, chasing energy and inspiration. It’s when I crave momentum, a sense of purpose, and the excitement of the holidays — the hum of crowded streets and the motivation that comes with a new year on the horizon.

And just like that, spring returns.

For a long time, I thought this constant evolution meant I was inconsistent — that I couldn’t stick to one version of myself long enough to build something lasting. But now, I think it’s the opposite.Each season asks for a different version of me. Spring brings discipline, summer reminds me to breathe, fall reawakens creativity, and winter challenges me to dream bigger. These shifts aren’t proof that I’m lost — they’re proof that I’m alive.

I used to think rerouting meant starting over. But I’m realizing it’s more like circling back with more awareness, more softness, and a little more trust in the process. The world changes, so why shouldn’t I?

We all move through seasons that shape us in quiet ways, even when we don’t notice it happening. Change doesn’t mean we’re uncertain; it means we’re growing in tune with the world around us. Maybe that’s the beauty of it — that we’re allowed to shift, to adapt, to become someone new with every sunrise. Because no matter how many times I reroute, I always seem to find myself again on the way.