Book Clubs

I always think I’m a book club person. I love to read. I read fast and I like to talk about books. I’ll read practically anything…

You would think I was a shoe in for this book club construct.

I’ve been a member of book clubs and over the years met some wonderful people through going.

But, as I’ve learned hundreds of times before, it’s weirdly not my thing.

I have to relearn this about myself repeatedly, I guess it’s who I partly am.

I wonder what part of me it is that feels depressed afterward. That’s a question. Also: Who is feeling depressed about what???

I’m letting the depressed feelings just be. I’m oddly homesick, or at least feeling it more thoroughly today. Maybe that’s part of it.

I don’t know. I probably had my hopes up. I need to get better at disappointment. The day was wrought with it. Probably more practice with relaxing into discomfort. Ugh. Chalk it up to another waste of my time. I don’t regret the reading part, just the sunny Sunday afternoon hours I won’t get back.