The other day, before heading out the door for work, I looked over at the table and saw a book I’m reading. I decided to go grab it and take it with me. As I was picking it up, I saw the other book that I’m currently in the process of reading. “Ok, I’ll take that one with me too.” But I stopped short, I was missing a book. I quickly remembered where I had left it and ran to my room to grab it before heading out the front door. I couldn’t help but laugh, that was three books I couldn’t leave the house without that I was currently in the process of reading. THREE! 1 – 2 – 3. Three books.
I’m a reader….when the heck did that happen?!
You see, growing up I always hated reading. To give you a little bit of a backstory; In elementary and junior high school, they asked us to read a book and take a test on it. (I think the tests were called Accelerated Reader.) I was supposed to take around 10 tests each school year (or around there). But I don’t think I’ve taken any more than 5 or 10 in my life. I refused to read. It’s not that I was stupid or couldn’t, I was slower at it than some my age but I refused to practice and honestly was bored. Their lists of acceptable books was a short one, and not one of those books interested me. We didn’t have Harry Potter when I was younger and I guess Goosebump books were not acceptable reading material. haha When I hit high school, my refusal to take their reading tests landed me in a special English class. Was a class that didn’t teach, but assisted me with any homework I needed help with. By not reading those books and taking the required tests, they didn’t think I could read or thought I struggled with it (which I did but not as badly as they thought), so they put me in this special English class, I guess, thinking it was going to help me. The problem was, I just didn’t care. It ended up being a class where I wrote notes to friends or caught up on homework I didn’t want to do at home. I was stubborn (I still am, haha)
Fast forward 18 years and now I love to read. I’m pretty sure my 15-year-old self would either call me a liar or pinch me to make sure I was real. My addiction started with The Hunger Games a couple of years ago, then into the Harry Potter series, now to self-help books. Who would have thought!? One of the first self-help books I read was right after my divorce, He’s Just Not That Into You. Which, can I tell you, was the most embarrassing book to walk into Barnes and Noble to buy. I had no idea it was self-help, until I had to ask for help finding it, and the woman took me over to that section. But I read it and loved every second of it. One of the three books I am currently reading is The Essential Oil Truth, The Facts Without The Hype by Jen O’Sullivan. She makes the science behind essential oils easy and fun to learn. I’ve been using essential oils for two years now and I’m learning things in the book that I thought were true but were in fact, not! It’s so interesting I can barely put it down. (I work two jobs and I’m a single mom so, obviously I have to put it down sometimes haha) The other two books aren’t as interesting so I won’t bore you with the titles but then I’m also listening to Shanda Rhimes Year of Yes on audible. (Audible is addicting, if you spend any decent amount of time in the car, get it!) While Shanda and I have very little we agree on, I find it easy to relate to her story. And, it’s inspiring! Motivating! It has a great message and so I’m also addicted to her book and always want to hear more.
I probably should pace myself, but instead, I just purchased two more books off Amazon. (Word of warning; when you surrounding yourself with amazing people who start suggesting reading materials, you want to better yourself right along with them, so you buy more books!)
So there you have it. I’m a reader. I don’t know when that happened, but it did. Is this one of the perks of being an adult? Does that make me responsible?