Something annoying and slightly disturbing has resurfaced in my reading. It started back in 8th grade when we had a class assignment to read “On the Beach”, the classic post-nuclear apocalyptic novel. It’s a great story, a little scary to read in a world that was still fighting the Cold War and other demons in 1973. As I read the book I felt like I was RIGHT THERE in Australia, trying to stay alive until the fallout killed everyone.

It was hard to shake the feeling of impending doom generated by the book. I felt it in my daily life, seeming almost disconnected from the real world. Numbly going to classes, or doing chores at home. That it was deep winter didn’t improve the atmosphere for me at all.

It took another assigned reading book, “The Martian Chronicles” to bring me out of the funk. Granted, “The Martian Chronicles” isn’t a book of laughter and cheer, but it was clearly science fiction. We were only three years after traipsing around the moon. Mars was literally a long way off. “On the Beach”, on the other hand, was a reminder the nuclear apocalypse could happen any time, maybe even RIGHT NOW.

After that, I was clearly reading science fiction, or anything Kurt Vonnegut’s mind could put to paper. I felt safe with those genres, and also with historical fiction. Because either the story lines weren’t going to happen, or had happened long ago and people had survived. (Looking at you, Kurt and your Dresden bomb shelter)

As an adult, I stuck with those genres plus non-fiction books. Or I didn’t read books at all. I read very little fiction or memoir of people who were still living their lives in real time.

Then this year, I decided to jump back into reading fiction.

There were a few “fluff” novels that were recommended to me that I read, and enjoyed. But I noticed my behavior would start to reflect what was going on with the characters. As someone who guards her mental health and tries to keep an even keel, it was mildly disturbing. A couple more fun “fluff” novels brought me back to reality. I figured it was just Mercury in retrograde or some such nonsense going on.

Then I started reading “Broken” by Jenny Lawson. It’s a good book. However it is full of episodes of mental illness and memory loss and obsession and the struggle to recover. ALL THE SHIT THAT IS GOING ON WITH MY FAMILY RIGHT NOW.

It’s almost too much for me. Actually, it is too much for me. I’m not in a good mental place right now. But having been here too many times, I know I can make it out the other side.

So, I will finish the book because it does have light bulb moments. And in the process, guard my mental health and behavior in the world. Spend more time with the dogs and outside. Because I am the anchor of this family, and without an anchor we go adrift. And I will swear off reading anything too real ever again.

Reading Reality
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