The shift that happens as August turns to September touches us all. Long before we change our calendars, our bodies sense what’s coming, the evenings shorten, the light softens, and something in us whispers that a cycle is closing.
As I write this, I notice the subtle change in the air. The glow outside feels different—less golden, more subdued. There’s a quiet ache in that awareness. A sadness that settles in as summer fades. You’re not imagining it, and you’re certainly not alone. This is one of the most human experiences: to grieve what was bright, warm, and fleeting.
We Feel the Emotional Shift
Summer offers us light that stretches across the day like an open invitation. Mornings begin with sun streaming through our windows; evenings linger with meals eaten outdoors and conversations that spill into dusk. We rise like plants, fed by the sun, moving with an energy that feels endless.
Then August arrives. The nights creep closer. The air cools. Our bodies notice the shortening days before our minds can catch up. It isn’t weakness; it’s biology. Less light alters brain chemistry. Serotonin dips. Sleep patterns shift. Appetite changes. The body is speaking a language as old as time.
Grief: The Quiet Ache of Change
It may feel strange to call this grief, but that’s what it is. When summer slips away, we lose more than sunshine. We lose little freedoms and versions of ourselves we loved:
- The ease of stepping outside without layers
- The spontaneity of late-night walks
- The hum of festivals, barbecues, and shared laughter
- A lighter, brighter self who felt more expansive
When these moments go, part of us falls quiet too. That silence deserves to be acknowledged, not brushed aside. Grief is not only for the big losses; it shows up in these tender seasonal shifts as well.
A Collective Struggle
Research shows that many people experience mood changes with the seasons. Around 10% live with seasonal depression, while another 20% notice a milder heaviness.
Your ancestors survived winters by conserving energy. Your cravings, your tiredness, your urge to stay close to home, these are not flaws. They are ancient wisdom still alive in your body.
Finding Solace in the Pause of Wintering
Wintering is the practice of allowing ourselves to slow down, just as the natural world does. Trees shed their leaves, animals hibernate, the soil rests. In the same way, our bodies sometimes call us inward when the light fades. We sometimes forget that we are part of that same rhythm. What feels like heaviness may also be a natural call to pause, to gather strength, to tend quietly to yourself until the light returns.
Emotional Awareness of Seasonal Sadness
There’s a line between seasonal sadness and something more overwhelming. Missing summer, feeling heavier, seeking comfort, that’s part of the natural rhythm of adjusting.
But if hopelessness sets in, or daily life becomes too much to manage, that’s a signal. Not a sign of failure, but a sign to reach out. There’s courage in listening to yourself.
What Can you Do to help now?
You don’t have to wait until October to care for yourself. Small steps make a difference:
- Step outside whenever the sun appears, even briefly
- Open curtains wide each morning
- Plan one small joy to look forward to each week
- Stay connected with friends who understand
- Listen to your body’s needs without judgment
These little anchors steady you through the shift.
The Season Will Change Again
Right now, summer feels like a dream already slipping away. The months ahead may look long, heavy, or uncertain. But remember: every season turns. What feels endless is always moving.
Some people find beauty in autumn’s crispness, in winter’s quiet; others feel the absence of summer like an ache. Both experiences are real. Both deserve compassion.
Your sensitivity to change is not a flaw; it’s a sign of your aliveness, your connection to the world’s cycles. To notice the loss means you were present for the joy.
So let’s hold onto this: the light will return. The energy will rise again. Until then, may you offer yourself the same warmth you miss from the sun, gentle, steady, enough to carry you through.
Seasonal sadness can feel isolating, but support is available. Get in touch to see if therapy can offer you practical tools to cope, help you reconnect with your energy, and guide you through this transition with clarity, insight, and compassion.
