Can you believe we're almost halfway through the year? I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that yours hasn't looked quite the way you hoped it would. I know mine hasn't, and for the first time in a long time, I'm actually okay with that.
I used to be so consumed by the fact that my life didn't look like everyone else's, or anything close to what was on my vision board. In many ways I have always found the middle of the year harder than January 1st.
I used to be so consumed by the fact that my life didn't look like everyone else's, or anything close to what was on my vision board. In many ways I have always found the middle of the year harder than January 1st. I think it's because at the start of the year you're so ready to feel fresh and new, there is only possibility. But by the middle of the year, life has well and truly occurred, and your hope, strength and determination have taken a few hits.
It doesn't help that there's been six months of doom scrolling past endless 4am runs, Hyrox posts and everything in between. It's around this time of year that I start feeling like I was somehow failing at a race I never signed up for.
Here's what I know about that feeling though. It lies.
It tells you that everyone else has it figured out. That the people getting up at 3am (easily and without hating every minute), running 50kms, feeling amazing all day and doing all the things, have it all sorted. They do not, and even if they do, they are still not somehow more worthy of a good year than you are. If you're just trying to get some toast in the toaster and your teeth brushed before 10am, you're not behind.
You're not behind. You're human.
Sometimes life is a season of one step forward and three steps back. And that is not failure, that is just the honest, unglamorous truth of being a person who's still trying. Still showing up. Still here.
The middle of the year is not a report card
If this is you right now, I want you to hear this: the middle of the year is actually a really beautiful place to pause. Not to give up. Not to write the year off. But to reset quietly, without the pressure of January energy, and decide what actually matters for the next six months.
You don't have to do it all. You just have to do something that's yours.
What a reset actually looks like
It doesn't have to be big. Some of the most powerful resets are the smallest ones.
Lighting a candle and sitting in the quiet for five minutes before the day starts. Writing one honest sentence about how you're feeling. Saying no to one thing that's draining you and yes to one thing that isn't. Changing something small in the space around you, because how a room feels changes how you feel in it.
You don't need a whole new plan. You just need a moment that's yours.
If you're in the middle of a hard season right now, I see you. And I want you to know that the fact you're still here, still trying, still reading this, that counts for something. More than you probably realise.