Holly

I purchased this book a while back, and it sat on my shelf for some time, calling me, while I ignored it.

I was afraid.

Afraid that this book would tell me that my 18-month tenure of cancer treatment was just the beginning; that I'd be sentenced to further lifelong trauma and a ripple effect of ways my body would attempt to betray me.

This book did none of that.

This book should be required reading for, well, anyone, but especially teachers, social workers, healthcare professionals, school board members, politicians, billionaires...

It's maddening at just how little support Dr Van Der Kolk was able to receive, especially when it comes to diagnostic aids such as the DSM. Too often we prescribe medication as an attempt at treatment when it's really just a terrible band aid.

Reading about the alternative approaches to PTSD like EMDR, neurofeedback, yoga, and theatre (yes, really!) has helped open my worldview on ways we can all work through trauma.

So, so, good. Ijeoma has the ability to write a book about an uncomfortable topic, and write it in such a way that it helps white people hold up a mirror to society, our laws, and ourselves, to work further to examine & help dismantle white supremacy that is woven throughout. She does it in a way that compels us to sit with that discomfort, but also without shaming. This is a book I plan to read annually and read with my kids.

It's books like this that remind me that while I don't read a ton of fiction in general, sci-fi books that have depth, detail, and well-developed characters/relationships are the ones that I will obsess over and blaze through their pages as if they are my geeky BFF. Project Hail Mary was just perfect. I loved it, and all the characters within that I feel like I know now, warts and all. Human thing.

I'm not sure what I was expecting going into this book- a little bit of Marie Kondo or Peter Walsh, plus a little bit of mindfulness?

This book was not that. It was a tone-deaf tirade from privileged white men that waffles between memoir (disguised as ill-fitting anecdotes) and a how-to book that is soaked in privilege. Once I got to the chapter about money, I was done.

The tone is more shaming than supportive, the chapters are too long and not valuable enough, and I wasn't sure what to actually do or try to take action on when ending a chapter, despite the “coda” section at the end of each one.

I tried to keep an open mind, but this is one book I am not going to finish. I'll be steering clear of the Minimalists books, podcast, and content.

I was intrigued by this book and finally decided to pick it up at my local bookstore.

Then while reading the first chapter, I wasn't sure if this book choice was a good one. I'm not in my 20s, I'm married, and I have kids. How can I relate to this 20-something single woman who is having different problems than I am?

But after reading further, I realized this book was just the thing I needed, right at this moment in my life.

Tara Schuster not only opens up about her traumatic upbringing, but she does it in a way that not only recognizes her privilege in being able to change her life because of it.

So many people are unaware that while a traumatic life event has its own challenges, it's the time afterward that can be the most difficult.

I'm eight months into being post-treatment for breast cancer, and I've been feeling lost- an identity crisis of sorts, while mitigating a pandemic and kids in remote learning, and a business that is also in an identity crisis.

This book wasn't a magic wand that fixed everything. But it was a blueprint to how I could map out doing the work that will help me heal and find myself again.

I'm not afraid of hard work, and neither is Tara. I'm also the type of person where humor has to be present in my life as much as possible, and I'm so glad Tara made humor a central theme throughout this book.

Now I want a workbook based on this book, lol. The book helped me solidify the concept that it is not selfish to work on oneself, in fact, it just may save your life.