COME AS YOU ARE by Emily Nagoski, Ph.D.
 |
| CLICK HERE TO GET IT |
I had picked this one up while browsing B&N, but ended up putting it back and going home without it. I picked it up again because a lot of women I trust kept mentioning it, and I figured there had to be something to that. What I did not expect was to feel genuinely emotional reading a book like this.
This isn't the kind of book that makes you feel weird or clinical. I mean, some parts absolutely made me feel weird ... like when it instructed me to use a mirror and take a good long look at my bits & bobs. But it's also the kind of book that makes you feel like someone finally told you the truth. Nagoski writes about female sexuality with so much warmth and zero judgment. NONE. I keep having to put it down just to sit with what I just read. Sometimes in self-reflections, other times in amazement at just how oblivious I am to the human anatomy.
The line that got me ... and I mean got me ... was this:
"I am done living in a world where women are lied to about their bodies; where women are objects of sexual desire but not subjects of sexual pleasure... and where women believe their bodies are broken, simply because those bodies are not male."
I had to read that twice. Then a third time. Then I texted it to my best friend.
If you've ever felt like something was wrong with you, with your body, with how you work, with what you want or don't want ... this book is going to feel like an exhale. I'm only partway through, and I already want to buy a copy for every woman I know.
THIS IS HOW YOUR MARRIAGE ENDS by Matthew Fray
 |
CLICK HERE TO GET IT! |
Okay, the title is alarming. I know. Stay with me.
This book is not a doom spiral. It's actually one of the most hopeful things I've read about marriage in a long time, and it's written by a man (not a usual thing for me to pick up) who lost his, which somehow makes it hit harder.
Fray writes about all the small things. The glass left by the sink. The laundry on the floor. The moments that feel minor to one person and enormous to the other, and what it actually means when those moments keep happening ... and happening ... and happening. He puts into words something I've felt but never quite been able to articulate about how love shows up not in what you say but in what you do without being asked.
This passage stopped me completely:
"By understanding that my wife experienced meaningful pain—just like all of the unpleasant shit I feel when things hurt me—from something like this glass sitting next to the sink, I could have communicated my love and respect for her by NOT leaving tiny reminders for her each day that she wasn’t considered. That she wasn’t remembered. That she wasn’t respected. I could have carefully avoided leaving evidence that I would always choose my feelings and my preferences over hers. Then, caring about her = putting glass in the dishwasher. Caring about her = keeping your laundry off the floor. Caring about her = thoughtfully not tracking dirt or whatever on the floor she worked hard to clean. Caring about her = taking care of kid-related things so she can just chill out for a little bit and worry about one less thing. Caring about her = “Hey babe. Is there anything I can do today or pick up on my way home that will make your day better?” Caring about her = a million little things that say “I love you” more than speaking the words ever could."
I'm not going to tell you I immediately handed it to my husband. But I'm also not going to tell you that I didn't.
IF HE HAD BEEN WITH ME by Laura Nowlin
 |
CLICK HERE TO GET IT! |
This one is technically YA, and I did not care even slightly. It's a story about love and loss and the way certain people become so woven into your life that you can't imagine the version of the story where they weren't there. It's quiet and aching and completely devastating in the way only really good books can be.
I've cried. Just know that if you're looking for something that will make you feel something real, this one's worth picking up.
I think there's something to reading with intention. Not perfectly. Not with a spreadsheet or a five-year plan. Just ... what do I need right now? What part of me needs tending?
Right now, I need to understand myself better. I need to love my marriage well. And I need to remember how to feel things deeply, even when life is busy and loud and full of moving boxes and dining tables from Goodwill.
Books do that for me. Maybe they do it for you, too.
0 comments