I feel like a stronger, freer woman now. I just broke up with a book.
I tried to make it work. I really did. I saw the book's good qualities. It was beautifully written. Funny. Feminist, even! And I saw that it could be a beneficial book for some people. Just not for me. I wasn't the right audience, nor was I in the right mind-set to read it.
It wasn't the book—it was me.
But I plowed on. "Maybe I just need to get to know the book a little better," I thought. With other books, I found it really paid off to keep reading. Maybe this book would be the same.
Yet I found myself watching How I Met Your Mother repeats instead of reading. I NEVER choose TV over books!
I was obsessing over it. Then I remembered something my husband said that (I know this sounds lame!) was actually a total aha! moment: "You know, you don't have to finish a book. Your time is too valuable to be wasted on something you aren't enjoying."
As a committed reader, that was hard to embrace. It feels like giving up. Isn't part of reading to learn more about the world around you...and about yourself? Sometimes part of the experience and learning process of reading is to try things you normally wouldn't. And to challenge yourself with books that aren't really "you." But maybe at some point you have to step back and realize: This is a hobby.
Isn't a hobby supposed to be fun? And if you're making yourself miserable about trying to finish a book, at what point are you wasting your precious time? The answers are probably different for everyone.
But for me it was clear. It was time to move on. Sorry, book, I'm just not that into you. And, damn, it feels SO GOOD to move on!