A Goodbye Letter to Summer

Dear Summer,  

I must admit; I was never overly fond of you.  
There was no internship locked in, no clear answer on whether I'd be taking courses the whole time, just an open stretch of time with nothing fixed. After eight months of a syllabus dictating my routine for me, I got exposed to this weird nothingness. But I think that was the whole point. Because if I didn't have that nothingness, I would have only survived life and not moved through it. Let me explain.  

I Tried to Turn You Into Another Semester 

At the beginning of May, I did what I always do when I feel uncertain: I tried to organize my way out of it. I made lists and unhealthy routines. I scheduled when I would work out, how productive I would be, and exactly how I’d attain that nonchalance and mystery by September, that somehow reflects you’ve got it all together.  

Unknowingly, I turned rest into another thing I had to worry about. 

And I don’t think I was alone in doing this. Many students fall into this trap. During the school year, we fantasize about everything we will do once we finally have time. We will sleep properly, start exercising consistently, read for fun, drink enough water, reconnect with everyone we have unintentionally ignored, and somehow fix every part of our lives before the next semester begins. 

Then summer arrives, and we discover that having more time does not automatically give us more energy. 

Some mornings, I woke up ready to be productive like a corporate baddie. On others, getting out of bed felt like a chore. There were days when I worked, studied, wrote, moved, and checked everything off my list. There were also afternoons when I laid straight on my bed, doomscrolling, and then got consumed by the guilt of it all. Which was pretty impressive. I didn't realize a few hours of nothing could spiral into a full existential crisis about wasting my potential. 

To worsen things, it was easy to look around and feel as if everyone else had figured summer out. Someone was beginning an internship. Someone was traveling. Someone was taking three courses, working two jobs and still finding time to post a suspiciously amazing LinkedIn post about their latest accomplishments.  

It made me feel like I needed to “justify” my own time. Unwillingly, I learnt the opposite. 

Not every meaningful day produces something we can submit to a prof, or post on LinkedIn, or even add to a resume. Sometimes, the purpose of a day is simply that we experienced it. We can rest before reaching complete exhaustion.  

Revised Definition of Movement, and Myself 

Earlier this summer, two ten-pound dumbbells and two unfinished sets somehow became a reason enough for me to cry my heart out and victimize myself. 

I had decided that I was going to “get back on track.” The plan sounded great at 3 a.m., which is also when most unrealistic and unsustainable plans are born. 

After the failure, instead of thinking, “Maybe this workout is not working for me,” I immediately assumed that I was the problem. Dramatic? Yes. Familiar? Also, yes. 

For years, movement was basically another expectation I had to uphold, also influenced by what I saw around me. If I’m not running a 5k in my 20s, or setting a PR of 120 pounds, all my effort is somehow...invalid?   

I think that’s one of my biggest takeaways. This summer I finally asked myself a real question instead of a productivity one: what do I actually like doing. Turns out I'm boringly predictable. I like the same machine, the same corner of the RAWC, and a playlist over 135 bpm doing half the work for me. And no, I don’t want my cardio feeling like I’m training for a marathon. Those who do, great! It’s just not for me. Maybe I don’t have to ruin my experience by comparing myself to trained athletes. 

This question also made me ask what activities I liked besides lifting.  I took a reformer Pilates class at the RAWC on a whim and left feeling something deeply weird: satisfied. Not sore-and-proud. Not "I earned my dinner" satisfied. Just simple satisfaction, which for someone who treats rest like another task, is basically a plot twist. 

It didn't make me a Pilates girl. It didn't change my life around. But it is evidence that movement doesn't have to look the same every time, and that I’m allowed to experiment. 

“Nothingness” Wasn’t Actually Empty 

Looking back, my summer was never actually empty. I worked. I wrote. I moved my body. I side-quested. I went to concerts. I met with friends I'd been unknowingly ignoring. I deep cleaned my room. I discovered new music. I rested. I let myself be. 

The difference was that none of it came with the stability of a syllabus. Nothing showed me how the pieces connected; no grade confirmed I'd used my time correctly. I had to decide what mattered on my own. And that was super hard. 

School confuses being busy with having direction. Summer gave me enough quiet time to notice what I usually ignore. I noticed how often I treated rest as something I had to earn. I noticed how fast I turned down fun things and side questing, simply under the pretext of “I have so much work".  I noticed how quickly I called myself lazy when I was simply tired.  

Most importantly, I noticed that wellness isn't something I can postpone until I have free time. I won’t. There would always be another deadline, another responsibility, another reason to put myself last. But I need to make time. To have fun sometimes, to rest without earning it, and maybe let myself be.  

A Positive Outlook on September 

And I’m taking away all these lessons and anecdotes with me in September. The moment fall arrives, there are readings, lectures, meetings, shifts, and approximately twelve places I’m supposed to be at simultaneously. 

I know myself. My first instinct will be to build an ambitious new routine, follow it perfectly for four days, and then act personally betrayed when I get tired. So, before September fills every empty space in my calendar, a few things I want to remember (and maybe you should too): 

• Movement counts even when it's small: A twenty-minute workout counts. A walk across campus counts. It doesn't stop mattering just because it was short or not aesthetic. 

• White space isn't wasted space: One unscheduled evening isn't laziness. Sometimes leaving room in the week is what keeps everything else from falling apart. 

• Routines should be easy, not impressive: I don't need a new personality or a 5 a.m. wake-up call, I need something sustainable so I can make it through an actual school week, not something that just looks disciplined on paper. 

• One bad week isn't proof I've failed. Consistency means returning, not never missing a day. A chaotic week doesn't have to become a chaotic semester. 

And that's the whole thing: building a routine simply when life is calm, is not enough. Maybe I need to build one even when life gets messy.  

Goodbye, for Now  

So no summer. You’re still not my favorite season. The humidity adds majorly to that. And no, you did not make me a brand-new person. You made me sit with uncertainty instead of immediately trying to escape it. You reminded me that rest and movement can exist without being optimized. You showed me that a life does not become meaningful only after every hour has been accounted for. 

With less than 4 weeks for the school year to officially begin, I don’t want to leave everything you taught me behind. A little more room to breathe, a little less pressure to perform, and to move with the intention of feeling therapeutic rather than a chore, are some of the main takeaways. I know the slower days will not last forever. Soon, I will be walking across campus with somewhere to be, something to submit and a mental list that is already too long. 

But maybe I can handle that busyness differently. Maybe I can remember that I exist outside of my calendar. 

So, goodbye Summer. You were not what I planned. You may have been better. 

With love,  

Prekshaa <3