Hello to all my FALL Babes! 🍁

Happy third week of October! Damn — did this month just fly by for the rest of you too, or is it just me? I had to double-check the calendar like, wait… Halloween’s next week?! 🎃

This year, I made myself a promise: do not buy the candy early. Because last year, my hunger and sweet tooth betrayed me — one bag turned into two, and before I knew it, I was running back to the store replacing the “Halloween stash.” So yes, I’m practicing mindfulness this year… and patience. (Wish me luck!)

As I sit here writing, I realize my favorite zodiac era has come to a close. Libra Season, you were everything — balance, beauty, boldness. 💅 But as all good things must, it’s time to pass the crown.

Welcome, Scorpio Season! 🔥 Happy birthday to all my fierce, mysterious, magnetic Scorpio babes!

Even though the scales have tipped into Scorpio energy, we’re still in my favorite month. The air’s gone cozy, the skies a bit moodier, the rain softer but colder (yes, I caved and turned on my heat — don’t judge me 🥶). It’s kept me from walking as much, but when I do, I bundle up and walk faster — because this is my kind of weather.

🍂 And on those walks, I’ve noticed something magical.

Woolly bear caterpillars everywhere — inching across sidewalks, curling in leaves, wearing their stripes like tiny ombré coats. I couldn’t help but cheer them on. I felt like a kindred spirit, rooting for their journey, their survival, and their transformation.

And that’s when it hit me:

There’s something about October that reminds us: falling isn’t failure… it’s freedom.

The air grows cooler and the trees begin their graceful surrender, letting go of what once gave them color. The bright yellows, fiery oranges, deep browns — all drifting down in one final, breathtaking dance before returning to the earth. 🍁

Yet even as the branches bare themselves, the roots remain, grounded, alive, and trusting. They remember who they are. They don’t fear release; they honor it.

Maybe that’s what growth really is about,  remembering your roots while outgrowing what no longer fits your season. You’re not falling apart; you’re falling into alignment.

And nothing about that requires an apology.

🍂 The Lesson in the Leaves

Some people rush to rake their leaves the second they fall,  eager to keep their yards pristine and “in order.”
But me? Maybe it’s laziness. Or maybe it’s reverence. I let them stay.

Because last week, I learned something wild:
Caterpillars need the leaves.
They burrow under them for warmth, protection, and survival.

The very mess we try to clean up is what nature uses to transform.

That stopped me.
Because maybe, just maybe — that’s the same for us too.

The mess. The endings. The shedding. The “falling apart.”
They aren’t signs of decay. They’re preparation.

While the world sees a fallen leaf, life is still happening underneath.
Metamorphosis is in motion.
Growth is happening where others only see the end. 🦋

So stop apologizing for outgrowing other people.
You are not falling apart — you’re falling into yourself.
The leaves were just here for a season.
The roots are your truth, your purpose and they’re forever.

🌾 Growth Comes With Distance

We love to talk about growth until it starts creating distance.
Until it asks us to stretch, shed, and say goodbye to what once felt safe.

Evolution always costs something: connection, familiarity, comfort.

But queens — the people meant for your planting season might not be meant for your blooming one. 🌸

Ouch! I know.

You can love deeply and still let go gracefully.
You can outgrow people without bitterness.
You can wish them well and still walk away.

Outgrowing others isn’t arrogance — it’s alignment.
It’s knowing you can’t stay rooted in soil that no longer nourishes you.

🍁 October Energy: The Season of Release

I've talked a lot about the Fall and October Harvest in my previous blogs.

Because October is both harvest and shedding.
It’s the reminder that beauty doesn’t just bloom — it also releases.

The trees don’t beg the leaves to stay.
They don’t apologize for changing.
They simply let go.

And in that release, they make space for new life, new color, new growth.

Maybe the people, habits, or patterns you’ve been clinging to were only ever meant to be your leaves.
They served their purpose. They carried lessons. But now, they’ve done their part.

But your roots, your faith, your values, your purpose — they remain.
They’re the part of you that endures every storm, every season.

So don’t rake away your transformation too soon.
Sometimes the “mess” is the soil of your rebirth. 🌿

🦋 The Metamorphosis of Self

When I first started my walks this fall, I’ll be honest — those caterpillars gave me the creeps.
All that squirming and crawling across the path made me instinctively step around them.

But the more I walked, the more I began to see them — really see them.

Something in me softened.

There was a tenderness in watching them inch forward, determined and unbothered, searching for shelter among the fallen leaves. And then I realized… this is what survival looks like.

They are not lost.
They are not slow.
They are doing what they were created to do — seeking the ground that will hold them until they can become.

And isn’t that all of us, in our own way?
Just trying to find the leaves that will keep us warm while we grow through our next becoming.

Because before the butterfly ever takes flight, there’s the crawl.
Before the wings unfold, there’s the stillness.
Before beauty, there’s the brave, unseen work of transformation.

We talk so much about becoming the butterfly — but not enough about this part.
The in-between.
The tender, quiet, sometimes uncomfortable part where nothing seems to be happening on the outside… but everything is changing on the inside.

Growth often looks like survival before it looks like freedom.

You might not recognize yourself in this season — and that’s okay. You’re not supposed to.
You’re allowed to outgrow the version of you that only knew how to crawl.
You’re allowed to shed the stories that kept you small.
You’re allowed to stop apologizing for the parts of your journey that look messy or unfinished.

Because you’re not the caterpillar anymore.
You’re the living proof that the crawl was worth it. 🦋✨

🍂 The October Release

You are not here to stay the same.
You are here to evolve.
To shed. To stretch. To bloom again.

We romanticize October,  and yes, the colors are breathtaking.
Those golds, crimsons, and ambers steal our breath away.

But here’s the truth we rarely talk about: beauty doesn’t end with brightness.

Look closer.
Beyond the fiery red and glowing orange is the brown, the quiet hue of release.
The color that whispers, “Something has ended, and that’s okay.”

I used to think brown was dull.

But the beautiful Fall brown isn’t dull. It’s the reminder that life always circles back to the soil
to the root, to the foundation, to what endures when all else fades.

It’s the unglamorous color of becoming.

Because the truth is, transformation isn’t always vibrant.
Sometimes it looks like stillness.
Sometimes it feels like loss.

Sometimes it’s the bare branches against a grey sky — stripped, exposed, unapologetically real.

And yet — that’s where the magic begins.

October doesn’t shy away from endings.
 It burns bright, then bows out gracefully.
 It doesn’t chase summer or beg the light to stay.
 It lets iself turn brown, fade, and fall — and still calls it beautiful.

🫶🏻The October Realness

You all know me, part of why I write this blog every week is to keep it real with you.
To be intentional.
To say the things that most people feel but don’t always have the words for.

And the realness of October? It’s this: you don’t owe anyone an apology for your growth. 🍂
You don’t have to shrink to make other people comfortable.

You don’t need to explain why you’re evolving.

You don’t have to justify why you’ve outgrown certain people, places, or versions of yourself.
Being real — being October real — means shedding with purpose.

It’s knowing that letting go doesn’t mean you’ve lost something; it means you’ve made room for what’s next.

It’s trusting that even through the shedding, your leaves will come back.
This season isn’t about perfection. It’s about alignment.

 It’s about being honest with yourself about what no longer fits — and releasing it without guilt.

Because that’s the thing about growth: it’s not always glowing.

Sometimes it’s gritty. Sometimes it’s lonely. Sometimes it’s raw and silent and hard to explain.
But it’s real. And it’s worth it.

So stop apologizing for your autumn!

You don’t owe anyone a polished version of your process.

You don’t have to glow while you grow.

 Quiet seasons aren’t failures,  they’re foundations.
You are both the fire and what rises from it.

 The color, the calm, and the comeback.
You are the tree very much rooted, grounded, and unshakeable.

Let the leaves fall. Let the caterpillar rest.

 Let the metamorphosis do its work.

Because queens. this isn’t the end of something beautiful. It’s the beginning of something unstoppable.

And that, my loves, is how you OWN IT, with the wings that prove every fall was just preparation for flight. 🦋🔥