Halfway There: What the First 6 Months of the Year Taught Me

Time has this funny way of slipping past quietly. One minute it’s New Year’s Eve, the next you’re staring at a calendar that says July. We’re halfway through the year—and if I’m being honest, it doesn’t feel like six months have passed. It feels like maybe… two and a half?

But the calendar doesn’t lie. So instead of wondering where the days went, I’m looking back to see what they left behind. Here are a few things these first six months have taught me—lessons I didn’t ask for, but needed anyway.

Progress Isn’t Always Loud

Sometimes growth isn’t marked by fireworks. It’s the quiet decisions, the ones no one sees. Like choosing sleep over a late-night scroll. Saying no even when it’s awkward. Showing up for work when motivation is missing. Letting go of guilt and giving yourself grace. These things don’t look like big wins. But they are.

I’ve seen this kind of quiet progress at home too. My family has been going for walks every week, and it’s clear they’re starting to feel the difference. It warms my heart to see them paying attention to their health, even in small ways. And while I can’t join them physically because of my limitations, I’ve made changes too. I’ve started cutting back on junk food and sweets—something that’s honestly been hard to do. We’ve also stopped frequenting Wealthea as often, which used to be our go-to indulgence spot. Restraint isn’t easy, but it matters. It’s these tiny, intentional shifts that quietly build something better over time.

Plans Change, and That’s Okay

I’ve always been a stickler for rules—the type who sticks to the plan, follows the schedule, and checks the boxes. But life? It doesn’t always cooperate. This year has gently (and sometimes not so gently) nudged me to loosen up a bit. Some of the goals I set early on didn’t unfold the way I imagined. A few were delayed, and a couple completely lost their shine halfway through.

Instead of feeling like I failed, I’m learning to be flexible. Adjusting plans doesn’t mean giving up—it just means I’m allowing space for real life to happen. Life isn’t a straight line. Sometimes you pause. Sometimes you pivot. What matters is that you keep moving, even if it’s slower, messier, or different than you originally pictured. And for someone like me, learning to bend a little has been its own kind of victory.

Energy Is a Limited Resource

I used to think I could juggle everything as long as I stayed organized. But it turns out energy management is just as important as time management. Some days, I could handle back-to-back work, home chores, and tutoring. Other days, just doing the dishes felt like a win. And that’s fine. I’m learning to respect my limits without feeling lazy.

What’s been on my heart lately, though, is my wish to gently influence my senior parents to do the same. I admire their social energy, but sometimes they try to attend every single invitation, gathering, or family function—regardless of how exhausted they are. I know they mean well, and they want to show up for everyone, but I wish they’d give themselves permission to rest. They’re not as young as they used to be, and that’s not a flaw—it’s just reality. Resting isn’t a sign of weakness; it’s wisdom. And I hope one day they’ll fully believe that too.

Joy Is in the Small Things

I’ve learned that happiness doesn’t have to come from grand or expensive things. It shouldn’t take a luxury getaway, a brand-new phone, or a perfectly curated life to feel good. Simple things—real, everyday things—can bring just as much joy.

The past six months have been full of these little reminders: coffee dates at McDonald’s instead of fancy cafés, finding dupe perfumes that smell just as good, wearing soft over-run shirts that are way comfier than overpriced ones, or rocking knock-off branded bags without shame. We’ve chosen Netflix nights over cinema tickets, and honestly? It’s been just as fun—maybe even better, because we’re relaxed, at home, and in pajamas.

These small things might not be flashy, but they feel real. And they’ve made life feel lighter, happier, and full of meaning in all the right ways.

Healing Isn’t Linear

My recovery journey has been anything but simple. There have been leaps forward, plateaus, or even steps back. And sometimes, even strangers I meet remind me of the varied nature of healing in unexpected ways. I’ve had several encounters where strangers, upon learning I’m a stroke survivor, approach me with heartfelt stories about someone they knew who recovered fully from a stroke. They often mean well, sharing these anecdotes to inspire me and even suggesting treatments or remedies that supposedly worked wonders for that person.

While I truly appreciate their good intentions, I’ve learned not to let these comparisons make me feel pressured or envious. Early on, hearing about another person’s full recovery could stir up self-doubt, which sometimes makes me wonder if I was doing something wrong or not trying hard enough. But over time, I’ve come to understand that every stroke is unique, just as every survivor’s journey is unique. What worked for one person might not work for me, and that’s okay.

Each survivor experiences different levels of brain damage and faces distinct challenges after a stroke. Some people might regain all their abilities quickly, while others progress more slowly or live with lasting hurdles, and that’s fine. I remind myself that my own progress, however gradual or uneven, is still progress, and it’s valid. There is no universal timetable or one-size-fits-all cure, and recognizing this truth helps me stay grounded and patient with myself.

The Year Isn’t Over—There’s Still Time

Maybe I didn’t check off everything I planned. But that doesn’t mean the year’s a waste. There’s still time to realign, restart, or simply keep going. I don’t need to rush. I just need to keep showing up—with honesty, kindness, and a bit of humor when things go sideways.

The first half of the year wasn’t perfect. If you’re reading this and feel like you’re behind, breathe. You’re not. You’re exactly where you need to be—halfway there, with a whole lot of living still ahead.

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