This Wasn’t Easy.

I’m going to be honest with you. Today, I was mentally writing my farewell post in my head, ready to post it 31 days earlier than originally anticipated way, way back on January 1, 2021. I was going to go into a quick anecdote about a kid I knew in high school who gave up on something he’d worked three years toward right at the start of the fourth and final year. He was rounding the corner onto accomplishing something, and suddenly quit. There are more details I’m leaving out because they’re too specific to be interesting to anyone here, but I recall thinking back then that he was out of his mind. Why oh why would you quit something right before crossing the finish line? Who walks away from a marathon at mile 25?

Well, sometimes, at mile 25, right before heading into the final 26th mile, your legs give out on you, your body quits, and you can’t go any further. At least it can feel that way, and I felt that today. Well, I’ve been feeling that for a bit, but for the sole purpose that I almost never finish anything, I’ve kept going. That’s literally the whole point of this thing. Finish something. Accomplish something. Do what I set out to do.

Here I am, officially in month 12 of Project 365-ish, and I was about to give up. I can’t promise that tomorrow, I won’t feel like giving up again, and the next day and the next day…for the next 30 days, I’ll probably feel like giving up. But I’ve decided to talk to myself the way I would someone I cared about, a friend, for instance.

“Arlyn, you’ve already put in so much. It’ll mean something to you when you finish. Keep going. You won’t regret finishing, but you’ll probably regret quitting early.” Man did it take all the will I had to roll myself out of bed after eating several Biscoff cookies and wondering if the discomfort I was feeling was early labor or just some Braxton Hicks…finishing the last stretch of one of the hardest projects I’ve ever given to myself during a physically exhausting part of my life and pregnancy…yeah…I’ll need all the rabbit, rabbit energy I can get.

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Since January, I’ve kept a notebook by my workstation. It has one page that I’ve used, and the rest have stayed blank since. That first page is dated January 19, 2021, up top. Below, I scribbled one little lead-in header—”My goals for the year 2021 are to:”—followed by four bullet points. The first one? Step into my purpose. The last one? Be healthy and strong enough to be pregnant. And be pregnant. The ones in the middle were mostly job-related, but the first and last one there struck me.

I remember sitting right here where I am today, writing those. I had no idea what “purpose” I wanted to step into, and frankly, I still don’t. But what I know is that in the last 11 months on this writing journey, I’ve gotten to know myself in ways that I didn’t think were still possible well into my 30s. I’ve been able to connect with strangers from all over the world who, for whatever reason, connect with me and what I have to say. I’ve had readers reach out to me privately, telling me how much something I wrote has helped them in some way. When I first started this project, I just intended on telling little stories, but what it ended up being was a path toward healing physically and emotionally for me. January 19, 2021, I had no idea where I’d be December 1, 2021. But, according to the fourth bullet point, I was hoping I’d be right here where I am: with baby in tow.

Just a few days before jotting down these goals and wishes for myself for the upcoming year, I sat in my doctor’s office sobbing. Unsure of what my body was doing (still unsure, btw, but mentally much stronger), I broke down and shared with him that my greatest worry of all was that what it was would prevent me from being able to have a baby. He handed me a tissue, looked at me with such softness and said he didn’t think that was going to be the case. I’m glad he was right.

So, January 19th Arlyn, who wanted to step into her purpose this year and find her life’s work, I’m not giving up for you. Because you started 2021 with lots of hopes and dreams for the 12 months to follow, and if I can give her anything, it’s to at least not walk away from Project 365. She wanted it, she needed it, and I’m going to grant it to her. Even if it’s by pecking away at a keyboard with carpal tunnel wrist braces wrapped around both hands, sitting a belly’s-length away from a keyboard, I’ll do it for you.

Here’s to a strong 30 days ahead to round out the year together.

See you tomorrow, FOAS.