Well crap. Yesterday I said my sinuses were on the upswing, but I apparently spoke too soon. I hate it when that happens. This morning I woke up hot, and although I don’t have a fever, I’ve felt crummy all day, low energy. Now it’s six in the evening, and I’m trying my level best to get all my “chores” finished so that I can take a nap and not have to worry about doing anything when I wake up. I’m hoping a nap will help, but sometimes sleep is the worst, especially with sinus problems. It’s just a matter of gravity. Everything runs to your head.

Ick.

I’ve spent the afternoon trying all my home remedies. I thought the kimchi I’ve been using was helping, but it’s possible that it’s out of date and no longer contains the bacteria I need. But working from the wisdom of “there’s more than one way to skin a cat,” I’ve been taking a few other supplements, as well as drinking a lot of fluids. And whereas part of me is terrified and thinks I’m going to end up being sick for months like I was last year, another part of me is rational and thinks, Just give it a few days before you start freaking out. A lot can happen in a few days.

Yeah, that first part of me responds, you could get the flu, like that friend of yours got. Remember her? You were standing right beside each other!

Let’s talk about something else before I scare myself to death.

Earlier this week I began the long process of going back and re-reading all my blog posts. And whereas I initially read them in random order, last night I went back and started from post number one. Oh my gosh, y’all, I completely spilled my guts. After decades of being silent or indirect about my sexuality and almost everything else in my personal life, I just put it out there. You can read it for yourself, but I basically said, “I’m here, I’m queer, and I like waffles.” Reading the post last night, I thought, Well, that was brave. Recently when I was being hard on myself for not having a real job “like everybody else,” my therapist said, “If you were looking objectively at yourself from the outside, what would you say?” I paused then replied, “I’d say I really admire that person for following his dream. He’s got a lot of balls.”

“Thank you,” she replied.

I don’t mean to toot my own horn–look how brave I am! But reading my first post and answering my therapist’s question really did come as a shock to me. I spend so much time worrying and being afraid, about my health and life in general, that I rarely if ever stop to consider that I am simultaneously being courageous. Because I do think fear and courage can exist at the same time. Indeed, one must first be fearful before they can be courageous. This is why no one ever says they courageously put their shoes on. Who’s afraid of putting on their shoes? No, being courageous means taking action despite being afraid.

After I read my first post, I read several others. Posts two through nine to be specific. For the most part, this was like looking through an old scrapbook. I thought, Oh yeah, I remember that. I laughed, I cried, I noticed a few typos. I did not, however, get self-critical, as I often do when, for example, looking back at old dance videos. Rather, I thought, I’m proud of this.

Later, while hanging up laundry, another thought popped into my head. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it was like I was thinking about myself as if I were someone else, from an objective viewpoint like my therapist suggested. Anyway, I thought, I like this person.

I like this person because he’s brave.
I like this person because he’s smart.
I like this person because he’s funny. (I’m pretty funny.)
I like this person because he’s a handsome devil.

But seriously. I like this person. This really was a big deal. Not a revelation, per say, but a significant acknowledgment. I like me. Not that I DISLIKED myself before last night, but I’ve spent a lot of time disliking certain things about myself (from the top of my head to the bottoms of my feet), and that’s essentially the same thing. So it was an important reminder that I actually like and enjoy a million things about me, regardless of how healthy or sick I am, regardless of how big my waistline is. Now I’m reminding myself that whenever I’m being self-critical I’m talking about somebody I like, somebody I care about–and that’s not okay.

So knock it off, me