Seasonal Triggers: Pumpkin Spice Lattes Can Mess With Me

Source: Erica Marsland Huynh / Unsplash

I think it starts with the pumpkins. On a recent trip to the grocery store, I spotted them, in a large bin at the entrance. There were great piles of fat, orange pumpkins, and I think I gasped in happiness.

It’s the Great Pumpkin, Dana Bowman, and I am here for it.

I love fall. As early as late August, I will start pawing through boxes of fall decor in my attic. I’ll valiantly try to wear cardigans even when it’s still 90 degrees outside.

And, I am guilty of ordering pumpkin spice lattes in the throes of early September. My boys tell me this is basic, to which I shrug. I accept it, basically.

What I don’t accept is that with the cool crispness of fall comes a weird moment or two when I get triggered. My brain says, “This is time to drink.” Seasonal affective disorder (SAD) might have a part to play in this, but I think there is more going on.

I’ve been sober since 2014. That’s nearly ten years, and I still have the weird drinkie voice occasionally. I do get triggered, and I’ve written and spoken extensively about these challenges to sobriety. I can experience moments where I’m extra tired, or I’m anxious, and my brain stops working right and says something like, “Hey… maybe you should have a drink? I mean… you weren’t all that bad…” I know now that’s just the addiction talking, and I also know to disregard it.

But honestly? I never expected the changing of the seasons to be a trigger. After the heat of summer, the first cool tang of fall makes me smile. Sweater weather, pumpkin lattes, and football: What’s not to love? But as ten years of sober living have passed, I still can get “itchy” in the fall. Here are three reasons why:

1. As a sort of offshoot of SAD, fall weather with its cooler temperature activates my “change brain,” which tenses up and goes into overdrive to make sure I can adapt. Any sort of change does this to me, both good and bad. You should see me on the first few days of a summer vacation. It’s wonderful, but it’s still changed. As a perfectionist in recovery, change has always thrown me off. I don’t want to allow for time and rest to shift me into a new place. I just want to keep playing the same tune and pushing on. This doesn’t work.
2. Fall brings me back to when I had my first son, Charlie, and I was experiencing a terrible bout of postpartum depression. It was a lovely fall that year, with sunny cool days and brilliant trees, and I can remember taking him out in our brand new stroller and crunching through the leaves and feeling nothing but dread. I dreaded nearly every moment of our first month together. Writing about it now, I relive the dread, and there is a quick cut of shame that makes me wince; what kind of mother was I? I was told this should be the most wonderful time of my life, just Charlie and me, taking long walks and savoring the moments. But instead, I longed, viscerally, for a huge glass of wine (red, because of fall) to help me through.
3. Fall is pushed as the onset of All Things Cozy. Bundling up with soft sweaters, fire pits, and warm drinks? These are all good things. My brain, however, can also connect getting cozy with getting numb. Swathing myself in warm blankets and an equally warm shot of brown liquor were often associated together. Awareness is key

At the grocery, I bought three overpriced pumpkins for our front stoop. It’s 87 degrees outside. I will forego the cardigan and the lattes; there’s too much sugar in those things anyway. But I will be aware of those tiny moments in my recovery where there’s a hiccup. A glitch in the sober matrix, if you will, where my brain will tell me: This is drinking time.

And my recovery steps up and reminds me, thank goodness, that there is always a plan.

So as the leaves turn a lovely crispy red and the evenings start to get that tilted glow from the autumn sun, I will make a plan.

Source: Fallon Michael / Unsplash

I will not swat at the trigger. Instead, I will stop, breathe, and see it. I am not failing at recovery if there are triggers or moments of wonky thinking. I’ll look at the trigger and say, “I see you there.”

And then, I’ll redirect. My favorite form of this is to talk about it, out loud, to others. Sometimes I even write articles about it.

I’ll practice gratitude. I realize this is repeatedly suggested to aid mental health struggles but that’s because it works. I’ll celebrate the goodness of a sober fall with all sorts of new patterns that my brain can groove into.

I’ll honor traditions so that each season brandishes a full basket of trigger smackdowns. For example, starting in September our family always has chili on Monday nights. Why? Because that’s when we watch football.

There are lots of Frito chips and an abundance of shredded cheese, and I might just make cinnamon rolls. I buy gobs of candy corn and endlessly tussle with folks on social media about how much I love it (Have you tried it with popcorn? It’s amazing). I strew my porch with pumpkins, even if they’re outlandishly expensive, or they get gnawed on by squirrels.

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No worries, I just buy more and carry on. This year, a pumpkin showed up by my front door at the end of August. I have no shame when it comes to decorative gourds.

I make my boys watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown! with me. This is strictly enforced. Because they are teenagers, they roll their eyes at me, but that’s part of the tradition too.

I savor each new season. And if there is a trigger moment, a glitch in my thinking? I look at it. And then I watch it blow away, like fall leaves on a chilly day.