Dear Friend,

It's been five weeks since I've written anything on this blog--but I want you to know that I'm blogging often in my head as I walk home from school, wash dishes, shower. Why do people (I) feel the compulsion to share my personal thoughts with a possible void in hopes of finding you? Perhaps it has something to do with finding human connectedness despite and through our technological distances. Perhaps it is a way to reach out to others when life and culture accelerate with time. Perhaps I just need conversation--or at least its semblance.

I realized, while writing the eighth draft of my critical introduction, that I write for a sense of intimacy with my reader. I write to continue discussion. Maybe this is not a good reason to write, but it is one of my motivations. I think it begins at my quixotic belief that communicating will bring people together to achieve something great and ultimately huge. Yes, I still believe that somehow I'll change the world.

Let me be a bit honest about the things that I can't stop thinking about--but wish I could. 2010 is a year to learn to let go of worry, but I'm not sure how to do that. I'm not teaching this semester because I've been sick and we can't figure out what is going on. I don't trust doctors anyway (a detriment. I think they're great people--but who can ever really understand an individual body!). So I go, we talk about migraines, we talk about nausea, dizziness, fatigue. He says--"Maybe you should increase your salt?" And so I do. The ultimate conclusion was that I have low blood pressure...so, uh, stand up slowly. That's nice. But it doesn't explain why I fall over and can't stand or sit for long before feeling my body scream. Nothing explains why I'm so nauseous. (I've lost almost 15 pounds in a month and a half. This is over Christmas break--I wasn't eating modestly.) None of this would really bother me except I need to take care of Levi. My body feeds his, and he's hungry. This week we started supplementing with formula. I know a lot of women do this. I have nothing against formula, but I don't want to use it. I want to provide for him, but I can't. In so many ways, I feel like my body is failing me. We've had such a good relationship for so long--I've obsessed about its strength and care--and for right now that is not enough. So, I'm learning to handle that and not complain. I'm learning to be grateful for my motion as Levi learns about his own. Perhaps this is a way for me to slow down and savor existence a bit more.

In the last few weeks, I've decided to be grateful for this though. Weakness makes me appreciate the strength I have.

So: thank you fingers for typing and scrawling so much. Thank you hands for carrying my son. Thank you hips for balancing my weight and shifting so eagerly. Thank you stomach for doing your best and then some, especially when you don't want to. Thank you, dear body, for pushing onward and resisting my complaints, for proving (surprisingly) that you can function. For acting in public like nothing is wrong.