The Art of the Mid-Year Mental Health Check-in
By Grace — The grandmother you always needed. Sourdough, wisdom, and zero judgment. ·
Finding Your Footing in the June Heat
It’s June, dear ones. The rhododendrons are putting on a show here in the valley, and the kitchen table—usually the center of my world—is currently covered in half-finished canning projects and a sourdough starter that seems to have a personality of its own this season.
When Tom was still here, we used to sit on the porch in June and talk about how the long days felt like a gift. But I also remember the years when the kids were young, the laundry was endless, and the heat made everyone feel a little frayed around the edges. I know that by the time we hit the middle of the year, a strange kind of exhaustion sets in. It’s not just physical; it’s that quiet, heavy feeling of wondering if we’re actually heading anywhere or just spinning our wheels.
Today, I want to talk about a mid-year mental health check-in. Not the kind that involves spreadsheets or rigorous goal-setting, but the kind that feels like a cool glass of water on a humid day. Let’s sit for a moment and look at how we’re doing.
Why We Need a Mid-Year Pause
We tend to put so much pressure on January. We make these grand, sweeping promises to ourselves when the snow is falling, and by June, those promises often feel like a heavy coat we forgot to take off.
I’ve spent forty years in a classroom, and I can tell you this: even the most energetic seven-year-olds need a recess. They need a moment to stop the lessons, run in the grass, and just be without anyone assessing their progress. Why should we stop needing that just because we’ve grown up? A mid-year check-in isn’t about measuring success; it’s about noticing your own rhythm. Have you been rushing? Have you been holding your breath? It’s okay to admit that the first half of the year might have been harder than you anticipated.
Three Questions to Ask Your Quiet Self
When I’m feeling particularly scattered, I head out to the garden. There’s something about the dirt that puts things back into perspective. I don’t ask myself, “Am I winning at life?” because that’s a recipe for misery. Instead, I ask these three things:
1. What is currently costing me more energy than it is giving me back? Sometimes it’s a commitment we made out of guilt, or a habit of checking the news right before bed. It doesn't have to be a big, dramatic change. Just notice it. 2. Where have I felt a flicker of genuine delight lately? Maybe it was the smell of coffee this morning, or a funny text from a friend. These flickers are the breadcrumbs that lead us back to ourselves. If you can’t find any, that’s your sign to intentionally hunt for one tomorrow. 3. Am I being as kind to myself as I am to the people I love? We are so quick to offer grace to others and so stingy with ourselves. If your friend came to you feeling overwhelmed, you wouldn't tell her to 'just push through.' You’d pour her tea and tell her to sit down. Try being that friend to yourself today.
Practical Steps to Reset Your Nervous System
If you find that your nervous system is humming a bit too loud, don't try to 'fix' it with more tasks. Try these small, sensory anchors instead:
- The 'Five-Minute Reset': When the day feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, stop. Don’t look at your phone. Go to a window, look at something green, and just count five things you see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one thing you can taste. It’s an old trick, but it forces your brain to come back into the room.
- Physical Release: I find that grief and stress like to live in the shoulders. I do a little 'ragdoll' stretch—just standing up, folding forward, and letting my head and arms dangle toward the floor for a minute. It’s not about flexibility; it’s about letting the weight of the day leave the top of your head.
- The 'No-Agenda' Hour: Once a week, try to spend one hour doing absolutely nothing productive. No reading, no cleaning, no social media. Maybe you sit and watch the clouds. Maybe you just listen to the birds. Give yourself permission to be unproductive. It is, ironically, the most productive thing you can do for your soul.
Carry Your Own Compass
I miss Tom every single day, but I’ve learned that the grief doesn't get smaller—we just get better at carrying it. The same goes for the weight of our daily lives. You don’t need to reach the end of the year to be 'enough.' You are enough right now, in this messy, humid, beautiful middle of June.
Take a deep breath. Drink some water. If you’re feeling heavy today, please know that you aren’t failing—you’re just human. And there is an immense amount of dignity in just showing up, day after day, trying your best.
How are you holding up this month? My kettle is always on, and I’d love to hear what’s been weighing on your heart—or what little spark of joy you’ve managed to find. Pull up a chair in the comments; I’m listening.