This is a piece I wrote after making the decision not to go back out for my ninth season of tree planting. It explores navigating change during big life transitions.

the season is starting. it’s spring. everyone is coming back together after spreading their wings. there is a buzz i can feel but not see, because i am not there. i am watching it from afar. my first time in eight years not going back. that’s the longest i’ve ever committed to any one thing other than school. i feel weird. like the bus has come and is driving away and i am not on it. i watch the bus drive away.
i hear the details from friends, i see the pictures. i replay memories in my mind, i run through all the different beginnings over time. it’s heartwarming and i miss it, yet i know if i were there i would hate it. i felt the chapter closing long before doing anything about it. i’m finally honouring myself by listening to the call for change. it’s strange closing a chapter on a part of yourself. but it was becoming too much, it was taking more than it gave. there was not enough balance.
i know i’m doing the right thing by adjusting my sails, listening to my inner voice and trying something new; but part of me feels sad. part of me feels like i am losing a part of me. my spirit was so alive out there in the wilderness.
i will find new wilderness.
i'll adapt.
adaptation. a cool survival feature of being human.
it’s allowed to be sad and hard. i won’t fight these feelings. i am closing a door, ending a chapter but through ending one adventure i’m automatically starting another.
i will lean into my breath, trust myself deeply, and keep putting one foot in front of the other.