Read Between the Lines
On a quiet, sunny day in Westport, with my dog by my side and a crackling fire, you’ll find me reading for three hour blocks at a time, punctured only by my need for more tea. I’ve always loved reading and was lucky enough to grow up in a family that encouraged bringing a book in your backpack. Reading is also my safety net. As most drama club geeks in middle school, I was not popular. I vividly remember the day I brought my first real purse to school with my first eyeshadow pallet from Claire’s inside. I was always a little behind other girls when it came to experimenting with beauty. Little sixth grade me was so excited to casually drape her purse over the back of her desk, yet the moment I let my hand free of it’s precious handle, a boy came over and used my purse as a flail to smack another cackling boy in homeroom, then picked it up again only to sit his ass on it. Upon my inspection a moment later, I found the eyeshadow pallet had exploded rainbow dust all over the inside. I stopped trying with trends after that. Seventh grade homerooms were a different flavor of horrible. Having given up on fitting in, I buried myself in my journals and books each morning. One sock-bunned and Victoria-Secret-lotioned cheerleader assigned to sit next to me got bored enough, or curious enough, of my studious habits that she stole my journal and announced she’d read it to the entire class. Homeroom the next morning, she smacked the journal on my desk and snarkly proclaimed “I didn’t understand it.”
And that’s how reading in your free time can protect you from bullies. Confuse them with your BIG SMART WORDS. That, and donning an air of apathy for their gossip.
The middle school librarian became a good friend. I provided a summary and my recommendations on the best YA novels in circulation. Plus at my school, when you went to the library, you got an extended hall pass, which meant less time with the sock-buns and more time in the stacks. My parents worked late and the town library was the only safe place to be after school. So after homework was done, once again my only option was to read. I developed a sense that reading was not only a way to entertain and grow the mind, but it was a shield against the world. I couldn’t look lonely at school because I was busy reading. I couldn’t be jealous of kids who went home at 2pm because I had books to devour. The couple of times I’ve been depressed in my life, reading made the thoughts stop and reorganize around worlds not my own. Through anxious periods, I carried a book with me like kids tug around their stuffed animals.
Home for the holiday, I felt called to reread Nick Offerman’s “Paddle Your Own Canoe”. Amongst the celebrity autobiographies, it’s refreshingly funny and inspirational in that Offerman was a far cry from nepo-baby. (see also Viola Davis auto biography and be prepared to cry) The book is a beautifully written reminder that to some extent, we live in the world we build. Of course a person can’t choose the family their born into to, but a person does always have the power to make micro-decisions. Overtime, those micro-decisions, add up to who you are. Whether I was building a fort out of books or playing piano for hours as an outlet for my rage after school, I was building pillars of myself.
I reflected on my bookish ways this Thanksgiving and found it’s a safe place to return to when other things are out of my control. Not everyone has a good holiday. The holidays can be the worst part of the year for some. So if you’ve made it this far in the blog, clicked all the appropriate links and scrolled all the way down, I hope your holidays are a good part of your year. If not, then I hope you find an activity, a community, recipe, or game that sparks a deeper part of yourself.