I was feeling pretty annihilated in October and November. As you’ve read, my life from 2010-2012 revolved utterly around my writing. And my writing was going nowhere. Which meant I was going nowhere.
At least in my own mind. And we all know how powerful thoughts are. Powerful enough to warp reality.
I got out of bed everyday. I did all the things on my to-do list. I just wasn’t feeling it anymore. I wasn’t feeling me anymore.
Things were losing their point and I was sinking into my own self-imposed unhappiness.
That’s when I went into the city for a week and read The Time Traveler’s Wife.
This book destroyed me emotionally. But it helped me find myself again. Reach inside and pull me back to the surface.
Remembering all the pain, the loss, the love, and the laughter.
Touching on the abandonment I’d felt so acutely that I had to disengage to survive.
And it all rushed back.
The emotions flooded my mind.
I cried through most of this book.
But I think it’s because of how beautiful it is. How evocative it became. How deeply I was sucked into their world and able to re-access my own.
I can’t talk about this book without getting choked up. I hope that never goes away. I hope it forever tugs at my heart and makes my eyes blur with tears.
Because this is the kind of book I dream of writing. The kind of emotion I hope to one day bleed onto the page.
This is a book that altered the fabric of my life.
It is because of this book that I am excited about my future again.