“I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers.” — L. M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables
October is my favorite month. The leaves, the crisp air, the sunsets, the excuse to make everything taste like fall. I want to be outside as much as possible, go on long walks, cook all the cozy things, soak up every bit of the season.
But October is the same length as every other month.
And somehow, even the things I love start to feel like a list of things I need to fit in. Another month to make the most of. Another season that will be over before I know it. My life is already so full, and I keep trying to squeeze more into it.
I don’t want to rush through my favorite month trying to experience all of it.
I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. How to be present in my actual life instead of constantly trying to get ahead of it. How to appreciate what I have without losing sight of what I want. How to make room for the things that matter without turning them into another set of expectations.
It’s been a heavy week. I’ve been sad, angry, and emotional, and my mind has been racing with things I can’t fix.
But it’s also a beautiful weekend in October.
Tonight, Jon is standing beside his best friend as he gets married, and I get to be there to celebrate their love. It’s the exact kind of October Saturday Jon and I got married on two years ago, almost to the date. And at the end of the night, I get to come home with my husband, to our cats, and to the life we’re building together.
I have to keep reminding myself that two things can be true at once. Life can be heavy, and there can still be so much good in it.
It’s not “I have to go to a wedding tonight.” It’s I get to go to a wedding tonight.
It’s going to be beautiful.
And I want to be there for it. Not physically present while my mind is somewhere else, trying to solve everything. Not rushing through the evening thinking about what I need to do tomorrow.
Just there.
That’s what I’m trying to learn this October: how to let a beautiful thing be beautiful without turning it into something I need to maximize.
And honestly, I’m not very good at it yet.
My instinct is to fix things. If something is wrong, I want to figure out how to make it right. If someone I love is struggling, I want to find the thing that will help them see the light. If my life doesn’t look the way I thought it would by now, I want to figure out what I need to change to get it there.
But some things aren’t mine to fix. Some things take time. And some things are just hard, even when you’re doing everything you can.
So I’m trying to come back to three things:
It’s not that serious. (Always my mantra.)
You can only control what YOU can control.
Positivity and optimism matter most when things are hard.
That last one is something I’m really working on. It’s easy to feel grateful when life is good. It’s much harder to find hope when you’re sad, angry, worried, or disappointed. But that’s when I think it matters most. Not to force happiness or pretend everything is fine, but to find little pockets of hope when things aren’t.
I know I’ve been cynical lately. Reading back my SubStacks, it’s clear I’ve been dwelling on the heaviness of the world. And I don’t want to ignore what’s hard or pretend I have some enlightened perspective on it all. Because is that really what I’m here to do? No.
I want to share my perspective. I want to help people see something differently, open up a new idea, and maybe feel a little more inspired by the way I’m living and thinking. I don’t want to fight tooth and nail to convince anyone to hear me. I want to live it.
I read something in another Substack recently that asked: If no one was watching, what would your life look like?
This passage felt like it could have come straight from my own brain:
I want to build big things and come home to the woods. I want to say yes to the unbelievable opportunity and then have absolutely nothing on my calendar the next morning. I want to get dressed up and go out and come home to the place where nobody cares what I’m wearing. I want to experience as much of this life as I possibly can without making my life feel like something I am constantly trying to keep up with.
That’s it. That’s what I’m after.
I want to live authentically, and lately I’ve been questioning how much of what I’ve been trying to build with Niknack actually reflects that.
I’ve written this newsletter for 41 weeks. How many of those weeks have I actually made all five Snackagories? Maybe five.
I’ve been trying to fit my life and my thoughts into a picture-perfect framework, complete with routines and recipes and a neat little bow. But that’s not how life works. At least not mine.
Life is messy, chaotic, and full of contradictions.
So, if no one was watching, what would my life look like?
I want to write. These weekly notes, yes, but I also want to write a book.
I want slow mornings with nowhere to be. I want adventure and long walks in the woods. I want to wake up and run out my back door barefoot, feel the ground beneath my feet, and feel the sun on my face.
I want to make my own success. I want to be a leader and crush the meeting. Then I want to run home, make dinner for my family, and sit around the table laughing.
I want ambition without the constant urgency. I want to build things without feeling like my entire life is one big project.
And I think that’s why I’ve been so focused on buying a house lately.
I feel like I’ve outgrown our apartment. I’m not the same person I was when we moved to Buffalo three years ago.
Back then, we were freshly engaged. I was fully remote in a shitty job, planning a wedding, and trying to make Buffalo feel like home.
Three years later, I’ve done that.
I’ve found my own community. I have an office job in Buffalo. I have coworkers and friendships that are mine, independent of Jon. I’ve built a life here.
And now I’m ready for the next chapter. I’m ready to build our family. I want a house we can fill with our dreams and memories. I’m ready to try for a child, to see half of him and half of me come together.
But somewhere along the way, my brain decided that I can’t do that until we have a house. House first, child second. Everything in its proper order.
And suddenly, I’m rushing again.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting a house. There’s nothing wrong with being ready for a family. I’m allowed to be excited about what’s next.
I just don’t want to spend so much time waiting for the next thing that I miss what’s already here.
Life happens fast enough. What’s the rush?
Right now, I want to focus on being present and living authentically. Not because I’ve figured out how to do that perfectly, but because I can feel how much I need it.
So what does that actually look like?
Listening to music. LOUDLY. Lingering in my car, scream-singing instead of rushing inside.
Writing daily. Scribbling in my journal and paying attention to how I’m feeling and what I need, rather than immediately trying to fix it.
Moving my body. Not because I know I should or because I want to look a certain way. Because I’m genuinely a better person when I start my day with movement. It does wonders for my mental health.
Touching grass. Feeling the sun. Going on long walks without my phone.
Eating good food. Food I actually want and crave.
Sending voice notes to friends. Cheering them on. Letting them know when I’m struggling, too. Figuring it out together.
Nothing revolutionary. Nothing that needs its own tracker. Just little things that bring me back to myself.
And yes, I will cook on Sunday.
Dinner will probably be soup or chili. Something with broccoli and cauliflower. Monday, when I work from home, lunch will probably be eggs and a bagel, or a snack plate with white cheddar cheese and grapes, because those have been my kryptonite lately.
Monday is also our anniversary. Two years married. Two years of choosing each other and figuring it out together.
Gosh, we’re just getting started.
And that’s a GOOD thing.
A couple of weeks ago, I was caught up in the idea that we should have bought a house by now. We should be pregnant by now. Mostly because of the social media game and the people we know who got married the same year as us and already have both.
But F that. Screw the timeline.
We’re living our lives in the way that feels right for us. I want to trust that we can figure out the next steps together, even if they don’t happen in the order I imagined. I want to believe there’s a higher power looking out for me, guiding me toward the life I’m meant to live.
On Monday, we’ll go to a steakhouse and celebrate our marriage. Two years of us. Two years of learning, growing, and choosing each other. A whole lot more life ahead of us.
And maybe that’s enough for now.
I don’t need to know exactly when we’ll buy a house or start a family. I don’t need to map out the next five years before I can enjoy this one. I can want those things and still be happy here, in the middle of building them.
So this week, there are no five Snackagories. No perfectly executed prep routine. No tidy list of recipes to wrap everything up.
I’ll make dinner. I’ll eat my grapes and white cheddar. I’ll celebrate my anniversary. I’ll try to get outside and enjoy October while it’s here.
And I’ll figure out each day as it comes.
Because maybe being present isn’t about having a plan that keeps me grounded. Maybe it’s about trusting myself enough to live without one sometimes.
I’m taking one day at a time and figuring it out as I go.
So this is it. This is this week’s note.
Messy. Honest. A little unstructured.
Because that’s what my life looks like right now.
And maybe that’s not something I need to fix.
Thanks for reading this week’s SubSNACK <3
Until next time,
Niknack
