Today I feel uncomfortable in my skin. I have a dry patch on my elbow, and my knee is itching for no apparent reason. A couple other areas are red, slightly inflamed. Part of me thinks, maybe I could try a new diet, become a vegan or something like that. Another part of me, a bigger part of me, thinks, Fuck it. I’m tired of not having answers about my physical body and tired of waiting. Tomorrow I’m going out-of-town to dance and celebrate the one-year anniversary of the blog with my friend Bonnie, and tonight I freaked out thinking I needed to buy a new outfit, at least some shoes and a t-shirt. Finally I decided, Fuck that too.

So now I’m doing laundry. With any luck, tonight’s blog will be short and simple, and I’ll be able to get some rest.

Yesterday I picked up a printed copy of “year one” of the blog from a local printing shop. I used a website to get all the posts arranged in chronological order, so it’s quite literally a day-by-day account of my life for this last year, the majority of my actions and emotions down on 350 front-and-back pages. At some point, I’d like to re-read all the posts word-for-word, but I did flip through them casually yesterday, scanning the pictures, catching a few sentences here and there. It was the weirdest thing, to see my life on paper and have a concrete record of my thoughts. So many memories and feelings came rushing back. Good days and bad–I was there for every frickin’ one.

I was there when I found a possum in my pillow.

Whenever I write for this project, my goal is to somehow, someway, end on a high note, to say something encouraging to myself and others. I don’t mind saying this is a hell of a lot easier on some days than others. Some days, like today, I’d really just prefer to crawl in bed and pass out, escape. But after looking back at several posts yesterday, I’m grateful for all the long hours I’ve put into this project. I’m over-the-moon if other people get anything out of it, and I also now see it largely as a love letter to myself. Y’all, it’s one thing to read encouraging words that came from someone else, and it’s quite another to read the encouraging words that came from your own heart and soul. There’s nothing like it.

If you want to cry, you should give it a whirl.

Honestly, since making it to the one-year mark, I’ve thought about throwing in the towel. Just like I’m tired of not feeling well, I’m also tired of working so hard and pouring my guts out. I go back and forth on my decision to keep going. Some days I’m gung-ho; other days, ho-hum. On ho-hum days, days like today, it’s hard to sit down at the keyboard. I think, Come on, here we go again. Earlier tonight Bonnie asked what I was going to write about today, and I said, “I truly have no idea.” Even when I started tonight’s blog, all I could think about was how frustrated I feel, and–believe it or not–a large part of me wishes I could talk about something else. I’d much prefer to sit down every night and “fake it,” be funny, or tell everyone (as my dad says), “If I were any better, I’d be twins.” But then again, that wouldn’t be completely true, nor would it be true to the project.

One other cool thing about having a written record of the last year is that–because it included good days and bad–I’m able to look back now and see that I somehow made it. There were a lot of high points, and even on the worst days, days when I felt uncomfortable in my skin or didn’t have a new outfit, I survived. More often than not, I was surrounded by friends or family, and–most importantly–I was always there. That’s probably one of the biggest takeaways from this last year, learning to support myself more, realizing that even in the midst of suffering there’s a part of me that’s unshakable and always up to the challenge, this still, small voice that says, “Go easy on yourself. Get some rest, baby. Things will look different in the morning.”