For the past twenty-plus years of my life the transition from August 31 into September 1 was been a bittersweet one.  It marked the end of the bright and languid days of summer and meant that the crisp, hurried days of fall had arrived.  It never quite felt that fresh school supplies, the new wardrobe you were finally allowed to sport and being reunited with classmates was a fair trade off for what you were leaving behind.  Once the hustle and bustle of the first week of September began to wane, so too did my spirits.

It was not that I disliked school.  In fact for the most part I immensely enjoyed school.  I relished in the structure of the days, I appreciated my teachers and their endless efforts and I did not even mind the immense amounts of homework my Catholic schools gave out.  What I struggled with, no matter how hard I tried, regardless of what new attempt I made to reinvent myself over the summer, was fitting in with my classmates.  I never quite found my “people” in school and as a result spent the majority of my childhood and adolescence feeling very isolated and becoming increasingly withdrawn.  It seemed as if every time I started to make friends and finally feel like a part of things, somebody would discover that I was an impostor and out me.  I realize now of course that I would have been better off just being myself in all of my awkward, somewhat nerdy glory.

Summer however was a time when I could truly shine.  It was a moment in the sun when I could shake off nine months of uncomfortable moments and allow myself to be free.  When I was growing up this meant running around the neighborhood barefoot all day, climbing trees, riding my mountain bike around the local parks until dusk, hiking and kayaking with my dad, reading a novel a day, and getting to be around my “people”.  As I got older these pursuits led me to working at summer camps, universal haven to an amazing number of overly enthusiastic misfits just brimming with generosity and originality.  It was there that I thrived, there that I found my “tribe” and there that I wished I could stay forever.  But all good things must end.  Without fail, August 31 would come roaring around all too quickly feeling like a slap in the face.

Things did not necessarily feel any different for me in college.  I reinvented myself once again and did an alright job at playing the role I had written but always felt a bit like my apprehensive fifteen-year-old self on the first day of school.  My twenties continued on in much of the same manner until I woke up one morning, decided that the life I was living was not the authentic one that I so longed for, and turned it upside down.  In the process of this I fell in love with a man who is so unapologetically his brilliant, quirky self that he can’t help but inspire the same legitimacy in others.  His acceptance of every aspect of me – my strange little idiosyncrasies, both the lightness and darkness bundled inside of me, my somewhat offbeat interests and goals, even of my little Lola, made me realize that I really was okay just being me.  It took seeing myself through someone else’s eyes to really see and appreciate who I have been all along.

This year as August rolls into September I am finally embracing the transition into fall.  I am embracing the fresh faces, new experiences and unique lessons these upcoming months will bring.  I no longer fear it.  In fact this year I am running towards it with open arms, excited for all the adventures and changes coming my way.  I will wake up on September 1 a little more comfortable in my skin that I was the day before, knowing that I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggonit, people like me!  At least the people that matter do – my partner in life, my family, my close friends, and maybe, finally, even me.