Sometimes it’s hard being an adult. Actually, I think most of the time adulting is hard. Lately I’ve been thinking of all the ways I’ve changed, now that I’m nearly 40. There’s so many ways life has gotten rougher, since I’m an old lady. For instance, my sleep isn’t clean anymore. I toss and turn all night, and I wake up sore as though my muscles are tensed up while I’m trying to sleep. Lack of clean REM means I’m always tired. Always. Even if I just woke up. Or, how about all the foods I can’t eat, foods I love, because they upset my digestive system! Like, wtf! When did I get acid reflux?? When did I develop irritable bowel syndrome?? What is happening to me!
Still, even as bad as those are, the one I have the hardest time wrapping my head around is my inability to read long, intricate, epic books. I’ve realized I struggle reading books with more than 600 pages, and usually it’s because books any longer tend to be extremely intensive. It’s not even a bad thing. It’s a wonderful thing! There was a time in my life I searched for the longest and most intense books I could find. I wanted to read all the Game of Thrones books in the world. Long books meant I didn’t fly through them too fast, and while I loved finishing a book in a day (because it freaked my friends out), I personally preferred books that slowed me down.
Today the problem is, the books that slow me down put me to sleep! There are so many wonderful books I know I would adore, but I can’t read them. Every once in a while my brain will go, “Seriously Wendy? You can read a book. It’s all in your head, dude. Just pick it up and read it.” So, I do. Not too long back I tried to read Lies of Locke Lamora, because it’s been on my ‘To Read’ list for years. I know, deep in my gut, I would absolutely love it. I want to complete it so badly! Yet, for some reason (after 5 days and only making it, like, 4 chapters) I had to admit how every single time I picked it up to read I would immediately fall asleep. It’s like, for me there was no need to drink warm milk or count sheep. I only needed to pick up Gentleman Bastards and I passed right the f*ck out. It honestly kills me. It hurts my heart and soul. Being a stressed adult has affected my reading habits and ability, and sadly there’s no medicine for what ails me.
It’s not even new books either. I find I can’t even reread old favorites, which was the entire point of this post. There are so many books I’ve loved over the years I’m unable to read now, and so they sit lonely on my shelf taking up space. I decided that even though we can no longer interact we are best friends forever, and I figured the least I can do is commemorate them today. So, without further adieu…
Clan of the Cave Bear by Jean M. Auel
My heart! My love for Ayla, Creb and Iza knows no bounds.
Even if we can’t be together again, you will always be my first fictional family.
Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley
The story of King Arthur told by the women of the story.
A King Arthur story where Morgaine isn’t automatically the villain.
Mary Queen of Scotland and The Isles by Margaret George
The best book I’ve ever read from my Historical Fictional phase.
Mary Queen of Scots was so emotional, to this day it is still my most heartbreaking read.
Gone with the Wind by Margaret Mitchell
Gone with the Wind is two fold. I can’t read it without getting drowsy.
Yet, having grown up and seen the worst of the world, I also don’t have much interest.
Frankly my Dear, I don’t give a damn.
Eye of the World by Robert Jordan
Oh how I loved this series!
I made it through nine books, back when I could read these massive tomes.
Not anymore. Now I stare at them and mourn.
Am I the only one out there with this ailment?
Do you have any books you can’t read anymore?
Is your heart broken?
If so, can we start a club?