Today marks the halfway point of my year of writing this blog. I am halfway there. From the Longman Dictionary of Contemporary English, being halfway there means “to have done something that will allow you to achieve something else.”

Halfway there is a good feeling.

When you’re halfway to your weight loss goal, you’ve really accomplished something. It helps create momentum to carry you to completion.

Halfway through your morning run means every remaining step is bringing you closer to home.

The halfway point of the workday is lunchtime – sustenance, regrouping, conversation.

To be halfway through a good novel means you feel like you’re invested in the characters and the direction of the story, but you still have plenty more to read and perhaps some surprises and twists and turns to enjoy before the tale’s end.

If your goal is to hike up a mountain and back, then halfway there is the view at the top of the mountain. It’s a good time to take a break and take stock of where you are and what lies ahead on the way back down.

I had several objectives for blogging weekly for a year:

• Give myself time and space to sort out my jumbled thoughts and emotions
• Share a side of the issue of transgenderism that is under-represented
• Explore faith, family, and forgiveness, specifically regarding gender

Though I’m not halfway through the expedition of loving my children no matter what, the calendar tells me I have reached the midpoint of my commitment to the blog.

Some have suggested that I might have so much to say that I’ll want to keep writing after a year. Others have subtly given me permission to stop now if I feel I need a break and am only continuing out of obligation to the commitment I made. But I will honor my commitment, not to anyone else, but to me. This project was first and foremost for my mental well-being, and I have definitely grown and changed over the past six months.

Here at halfway I’m pausing to take a break and take stock, preparing for what lies ahead as I begin my descent to a place where I can land and find myself more settled. There is momentum to complete what I started and the next six months will bring me closer to home, my new normal. It is a moment to breathe.

From a friend to me in a recent dark moment:

If I don’t think I can or want to make it to next year, I can always make it one more month.

If a month seems too far away, I can always last one week.

If a week is too much for me, I concentrate on just the next 24 hours.

If a day is too long, I know how to last an hour.

And when I’m not sure I can make it even one hour, I just take one more breath.

Here I am breathing. One breath upon another, building up the hours for another day. Days blend into weeks, and weeks into months, and then another six months has drawn to a close.

Some lessons I’ve discovered this past half year:

I feel alone, but I am truly not alone.

Spending too much time thinking and feeling can create negative brain patterns and ruts.

Doing (anything) is the antidote to too much time thinking and feeling.

Knowledge leads to understanding. But trust brings peace.

And from one of my twins, “The middle isn’t automatically right just because it’s in the middle. If one end is completely wrong, the middle isn’t as right as the other end.”

I thought arriving at the middle, both figuratively and in the passage of time, would have brought more insight, more understanding.

Tuesday’s child felt a turning point coming. She thought it would be something surprisingly good. Instead it was harsh and debilitating. But the turn hasn’t been completed yet. The curve is wide and long, and I’m still rounding the bend.

I can smell the rain on the air, but the droplets have not yet pricked my skin.

Midway through the novel of my life, I’m invested in the characters and the direction of the story. There’s much yet to uncover, unearth, and unravel. Perhaps there are some surprises and twists and turns yet to materialize. I will savor every page – sad, happy, anxious, celebratory, suspenseful, and settled.

Halfway there through my year’s commitment, I feel sustained, able to regroup, and bolstered by conversation with people who surprise me with their timing, their kindness, and their acceptance.

I’m breathing, deep and strong.