So it has been over a year since I have written anything at all here. And even then it was about books, no truly original content. A friend of mine recently talked to me about the post I made about identity and suggested that I start writing in this again. I decided I would try and do that.
I decided to complete Jamie’s 2015 End of the Year Reading Survey (like I did for 2014). Read if you dare. You should also fill it out if you have the time. I would love to read everyone else’s!
Number Of Books You Read: 40
Number of Re-Reads: .5
Genre You Read The Most From: Tie! 14 Young Adult and 14 Adult
2015 was a fantastic reading year for me, as far as the quality of the books I read. I completed my Goodreads reading challenge to read 40 books. I read mostly YA with some Adult and some Children’s and Middle Grade. I rated 19 books 5-stars, and I only had two 1-star books.
It was actually kind of hard to narrow these down. I decided to only name one book if I liked more than one in a series. ANYWHO, without further ado, here is my list:
“We know what we are, but not what we may be.”
One of the strangest parts of growing up is that moment, or epiphany of sorts, when we realize that our parents are just people. They have flaws and they make mistakes, and they are actually more than just our mom or dad. This can be especially hard to swallow because for so long, these people were our heroes. In this world of wrongs, they always kept us safe, had all the answers, and essentially taught us everything we know up to this point. Who were they before they had children? Have they kept any part of their former selves or do you find it hard to think of any hobbies/interests they have outside from raising a family? Is it possible to maintain one’s own separate identity when you are giving so much of yourself to other people? Read more
“He who has a why to live for can bear almost any how.”
As is the case with many other twenty-somethings, I am feeling a severe lack of purpose. I am at a loss as to what I am “supposed” to do now. Do I make up my own, or is this something that I was born with, that I am just particularly bad at discovering?
“Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.”
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Writing about depression is one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do. Not because I don’t have plenty to say on the subject or about my experiences with it, but because IT (the all-powerful depression) makes it almost impossible for me to even open a computer or pick up a pen.
The lethargy is perhaps the greatest of ITs powers. Some days I don’t even have the will to eat or turn on the tv. I just lie there in bed and feel nothing at all, or if I am really lucky, the greatest sadness I have ever known. I understand that you may not understand, and that is okay.
If you have ever wondered what it is like to suffer from depression, I am going to TRY and put into words what that is like for me, so maybe I can help you understand and sympathize with those in your life who are battling it. And so I can get it out of me.