Episodes
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Adventures with strangers on a trip to Tuscany. Crying to the police officer. Favorite memories and shopping adventures in Italy. Wendy the tacky Mannequin. Books I’m reading. Shows I’m watching.
Links to show notes:
Glam Italia! 101 Fabulous Things To Do in Florence by Corinna Cooke
Intermezzo by Sally Rooney
Meditations for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman
Ashley from At Home with Ashley
Dana Wall, the Inspired Tourist
Elvis, the movie
Killers of the Flower Moon, movie
Heirloom Club drop: Nov. 1st at 10 am CST
Dorothy & Norman Christmas drop: Nov. 4th at 10 am CST
My Tuscany Shopping Guide
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Things that have been occupying my brain this past week or two including books, shows, self-care, spiders, change, stick horses, sparkles, and finding a good therapist.
Episode links:
Reading:
All Fours by Miranda July
Watching:
Nine Strangers
Blink Twice
Substack by Katherine May: the Clearing
Wintering by Katherine May
Enchantment by Katherine May
Four Thousand Weeks by Oliver Burkeman
Meditation for Mortals by Oliver Burkeman
Follow me on Instagram:
@sara.norman.walker
@dorothy.and.norman
@heirloom.club
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Missing episodes?
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How I’ve worked to find balance between my *EXTRA* personality and living at a slow pace. Links mentioned in the episode:
Books:
What the Hex by Jessica Clare
Dead Romantics by Ashley Poston
Wrong Place, Wrong Time by Gillian McAllister
Angelika Frankenstein Makes Her Match by Salley Thorne
Bride by Ali Hazelwood
Weyward by Emilia Hart
Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
When Less Becomes More by Emily Ley
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I’ve spent the last month working hard at rebranding my businesses (heirloomclub.net and dorothynorman.shop), and now it’s time to rebrand the Old Podcast. Listen up to this epidsode where I’ll give you my perspective on being a being *EXTRA* since childhood.
The audio edits aren’t perfect, but here’s to imperfection and a better attempt next week. Next episode drops on Monday!
Enjoy!
xoxo, Sara
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We are constantly bombarded by stressors, distraction, and social media noise. Most of us enjoy various aspects of social media, but balancing out our screen time with more grounded-screen free activites can help reduce our anxiety and regulate our nervous system.
Writing letters to your loved ones is one of the most regulating activities you can do because 1). as you write, you are using both your tacticle and visual senses to be in the grounded in the present moment, and 2). you feel more socially connected to your loved ones. Both of these things can help decrease anxiety and boost our mood.
Developing a letter-writing habit can help you add in a consistent, regulating routine to your mental health toolkit. You can become less connected with screens and more connected to yourself and your loved ones. Get your Fall Connection Kit now so you can start building a regular routine to help regulate your nervous system.
Our new Fall Subscription Kit—the “Ashley” Connection Kit—was inspired by my best friend Ashley, who always has the most beautiful way with words and the biggest heart. She means the world to me and inspires me constantly. You can read more about her here:
https://voyageutah.com/?post_type=interview&p=87615
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Ya’ll this past weekend wore me out, and I am doing some self-care by NOT writing a Substack this week. Writing takes more time and effort than recording a podcast on the fly, so I’ve opted to skip my writing this week and give myself more time to recover from the weekend. I did still record a podcast talking about some of my most unfortunate and quirky personality traits. I haven’t figured out how to upload my podcasts directly to Apple or Spotify, so I’m just throwing it on my Substack. I love consistency.
I hope you enjoy getting to know more about me in this week’s podcasts, and I hope you do something today to take care of yourself today. Maybe say no to an unnecessary work assignment. Or take a nap. Or give yourself some extra minutes of quiet. Those all sound lovely to me at the moment. Cheers, and talk with you next week.
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Most of us with school-aged children can say that we homeschooled during the pandemic. It was so difficult, right? I was thrilled when my kids could return to school again safely. After awhile though, and due to the needs of my kids and our family, we homeschooled (electively!) for two years…not including Covid-times. There were lots of idyllic days and wonder-filled memories. And then a lot of hard days, especially as my chronic illness flared up and we abruptly had to stop homeschooling. My kids have been back in the school system for almost 6 months now, and are doing well. And as they start a new school year, I’ve been reflecting on some of the beautiful experiences we had during our homeschool years. And some of the ways I want to incorporate these lessons into our new school life.
1). We read piles and piles of books. And lots of audiobooks. We got on bad terms with the library because we were constantly checking out books (and losing them). I once racked up a $100 library fine because we lost ONE audiobook worth $75…don’t get me started on my tumultuous relationship with the library, despite my best efforts to stay organized and read lots of books with my kids.
Reading fun fiction & historical fiction that I tied into our curriculum helped us all enjoy and love reading. (Side note: If you’re not enjoying learning about your family history, trying reading a good historical fiction that is set during the same time period as your ancestor)
2). We made learning individualized. I customized my kid’s core classes to their interests. My daughter loves to bake, so we used a baking curriculum to learn chemistry and fractions. When she loved reading the Percy Jackson books, we studied Greek and Roman history along with mythology; combining history with fiction in ways that engaged her learning.
When my son became obsessed with the NFL, we learned the U.S. states and capitals by quizzing each other with NFL logos and placing them on a US map where they belonged. We practiced math by calculating pretend scores from NFL games.
One of my most memorable days of homeschooling was when we were studying geology. I chose geology because my son loved Minecraft and loved talking about obsidian and gold armor (and all the Minecraft things). I wanted to engage him in learning, so I used his interests to guide our learning. One cool Fall morning, we headed to the mining store at Great Wolf Lodge, and I let both kids pick out a geode. We each chose an ice cream cone and brought the geodes to a local park where they got to crack them open to see what color quartz was inside. We strolled along the streets of downtown Grapevine to a local rock shop where we quizzed each other on each type of rock that we recognized and some new ones too—emerald, pyrite, and tourmaline.
As we headed out of the rock shop, my son noticed a jewelry store across the street. He begged me to go inside to see if he could afford the diamonds they were selling…obviously…he could not. But, the store owner was generous and kind with her time. She spent almost an hour showing our little homeschool family the diamonds, emeralds, and gold that she had on display and in the vault. She taught us how Bonnie and Clyde had spent a lot of time in Grapevine before they tried to escape to Louisiana.
In one adventurous homeschool day, we made the most beautiful memories that I’ll never forget. Later that week, we read books about Bonnie and Clyde and the California Gold Rush—my kids were engaged because we had started with their own interests: Minecraft. Which we connected to geology…and mining…and the California gold rush…and then Bonnie & Clyde. That was my favorite way to engage my kids in learning. I’ve used that as a model as I’ve built the Heirloom Club curriculum—finding ways to help you connect your own interests to your family history you so can develop a passion and interest for it.
3). We learned from the most wonderful homeschool friends. I could go on for hours about how grateful I am for the homeschool friends we made. Although we were brand new to homeschooling, we were embraced by the most kind and loving group of experienced homeschool friends. Friends who included us in their weekly activities and encouraged our homeschool process. My children were surrounded by bright, happy friends who were creative and playful and kind. We found our friends through a local chapter of “Wild and Free,” and I highly recommended finding friends and community if you’re going to homeschool.
These homeschool families have made such a lasting impact on our family, even though we aren’t homeschooling anymore (we miss them like crazy!). One of my friends, Judy, was very intentional in teaching her children about her Mexican heritage, and I was so inspired by her. Judy taught me about how she honored her ancestors through her Dia De Los Muertos celebrations, creating beautiful ofrendas with pictures and memorabilia of her ancestors. She taught me about traditional pan de muerto and how Monarch butterflies return to Mexico each year around the time of Dia De Los Muertos, representing the return of their ancestors’ souls. Judy taught her children Spanish, and I admired how authentically important her own family heritage was to her. She wasn’t teaching her children their family history because she had to—she genuinely enjoyed it and helped them enjoy it too.
In college, I took a genealogy class where I learned how to index names from Ellis Island records, how to look at microfiche, and how to build a family tree. I knew how to use various family history platforms and how to find records at a library, but I still had no interest in my own family history or heritage. Even though I knew what to do, family history didn’t seem relevant or interesting to me. So when I hear some of you say that you hate learning your family history, I get it. But my friend Judy challenged my perspective and helped me develop a love for learning about my own heritage.
I don’t personally have Mexican heritage, but I deeply admire the way Mexican culture & rituals honor and celebrate their ancestry in ways that don’t feel forced or guilt-ridden. I learned from Judy that family heritage is something to be celebrated and enjoyed.
As I had the opportunity to homeschool and customize our school lessons, I took a lot of pages from Judy’s book. I started by learning about the beauty of Dia De Los Muertos celebrations, and then I began learning more about our own family heritage. During Christmastime, our family celebrated St. Lucia like my Norwegian ancestors. We made saffron rolls and went to traditional Norwegian festivals near our home. I decorated our home with Scandinavian Christmas decor. We learned about the history of the Vikings and the Scandinavian mythology of trolls and fairies. In June, we celebrated Midsummer with flower crowns and strawberries. I learned that my maiden name wasn’t actually passed down through many generations, but was chosen in the late 1800’s after my ancestors had a tumultuous marriage.
In our homeschool, we learned about my Irish and Scottish ancestors and celebrated St. Patrick’s Day, reading Irish folktales and eating soda bread. As I started to learn more about my ancestors, their cultures and their stories, I started to understand myself more. I recognized family patterns that have continued for generations. I learned that my Scandinavian ancestors lived on a tiny island in the arctic circle for hundreds of years. Can you imagine living on an island with no other friends within a day’s walking distance? And what that would do to your genetics after hundreds of years? Ha! No wonder I have such a strong need for quiet and isolation after social interactions.
For the first time ever, I craved learning more about my ancestors. What they were like and where they were from. Instead of feeling like it was something I was “supposed” to do, a duty to my ancestors. Now, I see my family heritage as a journey of self-discovery. I’ve got my ancestor’s blood running through my veins, after all.
I am grateful to my friend Judy who showed me what a privilege it is so learn about and honor our ancestors. Who showed me that learning about our own family heritage can become a beautiful, enjoyable experience that we can look forward to. Since that time, I’ve worked hard to incorporate fun & easy family history into our homeschool learning.
Due to my own health challenges & the needs of our kids, I’m no longer homeschooling. I miss our friends and our slow, wonder-filled learning. But, my homeschool experiences have inspired me to continue to make family history a part of our lives in ways that are fun and easy. And to help you discover the joy of learning your own family heritage, like my friend Judy taught me. In the Heirloom Club, my goal is to help you connect with your children and your ancestors at the same time, in ways that are enjoyable for you and for your children. We don’t have to learn our family history out of guilt or obligation—we can create experiences that strengthen our families and help us progress on our own journeys of healing and self-discovery as parents.
When you join the Heirloom Club, and I’ll give you everything you need to help you make family history a regular, fun, & easy part of your family’s lives. And starting next month, I’ll not only have our regular Heirloom Club membership, but we’ll also start our Premium Club membership—an all-inclusive kit of activities so you and your family can have a monthly family night focused on connecting with each other and your family history without the prep time or planning. Follow along on my Instagram @heirloom.club so you can sign up when we first launch at the beginning of September.
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You know how family is supposed to be your rock—your comfort? The place you go to for safety when the world hurts you? What about when it’s not?
I am grateful to have such a loving, supportive family, but it’s not perfect. And I’m guessing yours isn’t either. When our families aren’t what we need them to be, it can be very disorienting and hurtful. Maybe even traumatic. Family is everything, but when our family has flaws, or shortcomings, or failures, it can turn our world upside down. It feels isolating—like maybe we’re the only ones in the world who have such a flawed family. Ostensibly beautiful holidays are just reminders that we don’t have the connection with our families that we want or deserve.
Without sharing too much of my family’s story that isn’t just mine to share, I will say that one of my grandfathers falls into this category. Unfortunately, he repeatedly did not show up for my family as a husband and father. He was almost completely out of the picture, and fortunately, my step-grandfather filled his shoes as much as he could. Flawed as he was in his own ways, my step-grandfather showed up as a husband and father, and I am so grateful for him. A lesson that showing up flawed is almost always better than not showing up at all.
But just because my grandfather wasn't in our family’s life, as his grandchild, with 1/4 of his DNA, I still want to learn about him. I want to know why he didn’t show up for my family. I want to know what his parents were like. What he enjoyed doing; what made him smile. I want to know what we have in common—surely with some of the same DNA, we have things in common. I want to learn how I can avoid his pitfalls and still embrace the best parts of him.
I’m still diving into his family history. I am grateful that his mother was an avid genealogist who left lots of records. Records that show my ancestry all the way back to the 1500s. As I dig more and more into my grandfather’s family line, I’ve learned that I’m a descent of British settlers who sailed to Boston (Watertown more specifically) in 1635. They had a family crest—it is beautiful, and it inspired some of my upcoming artwork. They built a home that was standing until the 1970’s. They have a wikipedia page. They were horse-breeders (maybe my love of horses goes back even further than my 6 generation of cowboy lineage). I found a recipe that my great-grandmother (who I never got to meet) made for Applesauce Cake—I love baking it and imagining what she was like. I found a family reunion that these descendants have regularly…maybe I’ll meet them one day.
I also found newspaper articles about my grandfather and his sacrifices during WWII and the Korean War. He was stationed in Pearl Harbor until a few days before it was bombed—a near miss for my grandfather. At another time, his ship was attacked and he got away on a life raft. I can’t imagine the toll his military service took on him…maybe that was part of his absence in my family’s life. I don’t want to excuse his behavior, AND I still value learning about him. It’s helped me understand more of myself. And also what pitfalls I might be susceptible to. Because family patterns often repeat, and one of the best ways to avoid them is to learn about them. Awareness is key to change
Even though my family history is painful or complex, it has been so valuable for me to learn about. To learn from my ancestors’ strengths and weaknesses. Because like it or not, family is family. They will always be a part of me, and I can try to stand on their shoulders, becoming more than they were able to be.
If learning about your family history or connecting with certain family members is damaging to your mental health, take care of yourself. There is a season for everything. And there are some seasons where we’re surviving, just trying to get by as we work towards healing. But as we approach our healing and build resilience, connecting with the complexity of our families can help heal our hearts. Maybe our families won’t ever change, but we can still experience healing as we learn from them.
May we find healing from our familial hurts and give ourselves lots of grace for the process. I’m still on this journey, and I’m excited for you to join me at https://heirloomclub.net
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I started taking French lessons when I was 13, and I took them through middle school, high school, and then in college. I was only 2 classes away from having a French minor, but I already had a minor and was pregnant and needed to graduate, so I didn’t end up adding a French minor.
The Summer before I met my husband, I did an internship in Marseille, France—ON THE MEDITERRANEAN SEA. It was as magical as it sounds—I ran along the beach 6 days a week. In my internship, I worked with a French organization, and it was my responsibility to check in weekly with a group of elderly people (I can’t remember how many it was…maybe 20 a week?). I had a partner, and we traveled throughout Marseille by bus and by metro to each person’s house. We spent a few hours visiting with each person—getting to know them and keeping them company. None of them spoke English and my partner was from Poland, so I spoke French only all throughout the day. It was one of my favorite experiences ever. I highly recommend living in a different country and trying to learn all you can from the people there.
I was able to fly to Rome for a weekend while I was living in Marseille, and I went on my own. On the 45 minute flight, I sat by a man in his 40’s. We spoke in English, but he also knew French, Spanish, Italian, and Portuguese—supposedly. He said he was an Italian physicist—supposedly, and I thought he was very handsome. Half way through the flight, he started holding my hand. And I let him. I think out of shock, but also because I thought it was funny. Why was a randomly handsome 40-something year old holding hands with me on an airplane? I couldn't figure it out. lol.
As the plane descended, we exchanged phone numbers, and he said he wanted to come see me in Marseille because he often traveled there. In my head, all I kept thinking is…this will make a great story one day. Me—a 20 year old—with a 40 year old Italian man. After he left the plane and I refocused on navigating Rome by myself, I realized that my story had the potential to turn into “Taken”. Remember that movie? It came out a year before I went to France, but somehow (probably because I was only 20), I didn’t consider that giving my number to an older Italian stranger was a bad idea. Yikes. He did call me the following week. And the week after that. By then, I was smart enough to ghost him.
Because my internship wasn’t paid, I was living off of money I’d saved up from the previous year when I worked at the University’s museum restaurant. And by the end of my summer, my finances were dwindling. But I wanted to make sure I had made the most out of my experience, that I’d had the true Provencial experience. The elderly people I became friends with told me that I needed to try Marseille’s signature dish—Bouillabaisse. Have you heard of Bouillabaisse? It is a Provincial dish—basically a fish broth accompanied by a pile of fish and clams that you put inside the broth. I’d rarely eaten fish (and I didn’t like it), but I was insistent that I needed to try this traditional dish. A couple of weeks before I left Marseille, I found a restaurant on the port, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. Their sign said that they served Bouillabaisse for only 25 Euro. That was more than I wanted to pay, but I was willing to pay extra for a true Marseillaise experience.
The staff brought me the soup, followed by a large platter of dead fish. Eyeballs. Scales. The whole dead fish—probably caught right outside on the port. What was I supposed to do with all these dead fish? I grew up fishing with my dad, and he had taught me how to gut a fish with a knife….but that didn’t seem like the appropriate action. I asked the staff to teach me how to prepare the soup, and they instructed me to just throw the fish in the broth and eat it like that. I tried. I really did. I ate three bites. And then I called it a day. Definitely a waste, but you can’t win them all. The staff brought me the check, AND my bill was for 125 Euros. Apparently…the fish broth was 25E but the fish components were an additional 100. Did I get scammed? Maybe. Or maybe I was just dumb. In a panic, I handed over my debit card, and they emptied out my remaining bank account. I had $7 left to last me a few weeks.
I am embarrassed to tell the truth of what happened next because it reeks of privilege. But, I called my dad. And he wired me a couple hundred bucks to last me through the rest of the trip. Ohh the privilege. But I’m so grateful. I’ve since become a member of the dead dad’s club…and this story warms my heart, knowing how much he supported me while he was alive.
But before the money from my dad came through, I spent my few dollars on a bag of grapes at the grocery store, carefully taking off the stems so that I wouldn’t have to pay for the extra weight of them. But, the grapes weighed the same before and after I took them off their stems…and I basically just annoyed all of France in the process. I’m so sorry France. Please forgive me for my desperate American ways. Mon oeil.
I was young; I was dumb, and I hope my children are better than I was (mostly for their own safety). But also, I have a lot of compassion for younger me. I was 20. My brain was still developing, and I was doing the best I could.
It’s easy to look back at the old versions of ourselves and feel regret. Now we know better. We could have avoided pain, and hurting others and stupid mistakes. But in my 30’s, I’ve learned to have more self-compassion. We are supposed to be flawed, and hopefully we find ways to improve ourselves, but we are born for change and growth. And loss. That is life. I wish I could explain exactly what has helped me develop more self-compassion because then we could write out the recipe and mix it up and pass it out to all of our loved ones. I don’t think I’ve figured out what has helped me grow more compassionate to myself yet. But I have worked hard at accepting that we are not made to be perfect…we are all flawed, and we have that in common. We can find common ground in our flawed humanity.
We can try to give ourselves more compassion for who we were and who we are. And hopefully that will guide our children to do the same.
My latest canvas art is inspired by my experiences in France—in the lavender fields, on the beaches of Normandy, and my favorite macarons. Check them out here.
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I met my husband after a work meeting in August of 2010. We were both Freshmen Mentors at our University, and we met on the walk to our cars after a long training meeting. I was 20, and he was 23. We started dating a couple of months later, and we got married one year after we met. Going to a Christian University, that was pretty standard timing. We actually felt really responsible because we had been dating 6 whole months before we got engaged. We were taking our time. HA!
Our first child was born about 18 months after we got married—I was only 22. I was a baby who had a baby. But motherhood and parenting was what I’d dreamed of most, and I was just so grateful to be a mother. And now, at 34 years old, I get to watch Legally Blonde with my middle-school daughter, and I’m just so grateful to have her. And that things worked out as they did—I can’t imagine my life being any different, and I don’t want it to be.
But growing up fast was so hard ya’ll. Obviously. Being so young meant that I didn’t have friends my age with children. It meant that all of my married friends were older than us. It meant that we were super poor, young parents. We had loving supportive families, but it was still so hard. I didn’t know who I was yet (and 13 years later, I still ask myself whether I truly “know who I am” yet). My husband and I basically finished our growing up years together.
Many growing pains could have been avoided if we had waited to get married. It honestly feels like a miracle that we are still together. Two young, dumb kids getting married and becoming parents is often a recipe for disaster. But I don’t regret it…maybe because we’re still together. Maybe if we weren’t still together, I would feel differently. But also, getting married young made me who I am today. And brought us our beautiful children. I have no regrets about that. But I also realize that it is rare that we are still together after starting out in such a vulnerable age, and I think that’s part of why I hope my kids wait until they’re older to get married.
Our 13 year anniversary is coming up, and I hope there are many more to come. I celebrate this time we have together, while recognizing the things that have helped us stay together: our own couples therapy, our own individual therapy, forgiveness, accountability, and DUMB LUCK. We’ve worked hard on our relationship, but there’s been lots of hurts, arguments, and tears on both ends. And lots of laughter, inside jokes, and memories. In grad school, I became a Marriage Family Therapist and learned so many things that helped our relationship. As a therapist, I worked with many couples, and I think that time was helpful for me as well. But I’m here to say that I definitely don’t have it all figured out (in case that isn’t already obvious). Marriage IS HARD. BY NATURE. There is no perfect marriage, and I mean that.
Some marriages just aren’t made to last. And some can be healed. But anytime you get two people together and combine stressors, assets, and children—you’re going to have disagreements. You’re going to have opinions. And you’re going to hurt each other. That is just what happens in relationships when you are vulnerable and honest. There’s no way around it. If you aren’t disagreeing at times, I’d be worried that at least one partner isn’t sharing their opinions—maybe one partner is dominating the relationship. And maybe resentment is quietly building.
As a kid, I thought that a marriage was ideal when you had weekly dates and never fought. I think regular dates are hugely important, but there are a few things I’ve learned about relationships in my 13 years of marriage (and a few years as a Marriage Family Therapist) that I want to pass on to my children as they are looking for a partner one day. They’re getting older and at an age where we start talking about what healthy relationships are. Here is a list of things I’m hoping to teach my kids about what to look for in a healthy relationship:
1). Partners will disagree. Partners will hurt each other. That is the nature of humanity and anyone who is willing to be in a relationship. This happens in friendships too, but it’s much easier to skirt around problems and avoid them when you aren’t living with the person and sharing assets. With a partner, those things often come to a head and that is normal.
2). Partners need to take accountability AND apologize. If a partner cannot take accountability for their actions AND apologize, healing is at a standstill. If a partner cannot take ownership for their mistakes, but instead turns them around on you, that is a big red flag. A red flag that could threaten the relationship and lead to gaslighting and very damaging wounds. Some people have an easier time than others at taking accountability and apologizing (maybe it stems from their attachment styles)…but it’s also something that can be learned with a lot of support and deep work. If you’re with a partner who cannot take accountability and apologize, my heart goes out to you. That is so tough. It’s not necessarily a death sentence to the relationship, but it does require prompt attention and support. Seek professional help from a licensed Marriage Family Therapist, and if you don’t like the one you’ve picked, find a new one! My husband and I have seen 3 different Marriage Family Therapists, and I only liked one of them (therapists need therapists too, ya’ll).
3). Partners need to forgive. I am really good at holding on to hurts. I like to ruminate on them. And obviously, this isn’t helpful once my partner has made amends for hurts. Sometimes forgiving takes active work, but it is necessary for a healthy relationship.
4). Before committing to a partner, see them at their best and their worst. Most people have really great qualities when they’re at their best. That’s the side that’s easy to fall in love with. But, I recommend waiting to commit to a partner until you’ve seen them at their worst. And no, my husband and I definitely didn’t see each other at our worst during our 6 months of dating. It was a gamble, and I think I got very lucky. But, when my kids are looking for a partner, I hope they get to know them enough that they can see their partner when they are stressed (how do they cope?), when they are hurt (can they forgive?), when they’ve hurt someone else (can they apologize?), and how they treat others when they’re in a position of power (do they take advantage of others?).
13 years isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things—so I don’t really know that much. And just because someone has been married for a certain number of years doesn’t mean that they’re happy or have a healthy relationship. Anniversaries aren’t a badge of honor. And sometimes, divorce is the very best thing you can do for yourself & your children & even your partner. Sometimes, the unhappiest of women have been married for years—so I don’t like to idealize relationships for their length. Length of a marriage doesn’t necessarily denote its health.
I still have lots to learn about relationships—maybe my list will grow and change as I continue to gain more life lessons and experiences. This list isn’t comprehensive or permanent, and I bet you may have plenty to add or change from what I said that you’ve learned from own life experiences.
But at the end of the day, marriage is hard. It is really hard, even when you have lots of training and education and a great partner who is willing to take accountability and apologize and forgive. Two people in a true, authentic, vulnerable relationship is hard. It just is, by nature.
Whether married or not, I’d love to hear what advice you’d give someone looking for a partner—sometimes it is those who have had the most loss and heartbreak that know the most about relationships.
Wishing you the best in all of your relationships.
xoxo, Sara
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Hooked on Phonics didn’t work for me…or maybe it did. I think I learned how to read pretty normally. But, Dyslexia runs in my family—even one of my kids inherited it through me. I’m not sure that Dyslexia is why I’ve struggled with reading—I’m don’t even know if I have Dyslexia for sure— I could read the words on the page, but I couldn’t understand them unless they were audibly read to me. Reading words and processing words are different. My struggles seem to stem more from the processing.
Struggling with reading made it hard to enjoy any book. I could tear through the words…reading them to myself or out loud, and yet have no idea what I read. This made reading quite a miserable experience, especially when I was required to read (and UNDERSTAND the reading) in school without help.
I’ll never forget the first book I loved, read, and understood. It was called “Home for Christmas,” and my mom lent it to me in the 9th grade. It was a compilation of four different character stories that all tied in together in the end. I still have my mom’s copy, and I cherish it because it was the first time I understood what it meant to get lost in a storyline. It was the romance that got me hooked—a safe bet for a teen girl.
Other than reading a handful of Nicholas Sparks books after that, I didn’t pick up any fiction books again until I was in my mid-20’s. I felt insecure about it. Being a reader seemed so cozy and prestigious—like being a reader was virtuous. If I was a reader, I’d understand more cultural references. I’d have a bigger vocabulary. I’d be smarter. I’d get better grades, surely. I’d “fit in” better. I tried to make my way through Anne of Green Gables—a classic—but I felt tortured. I had no clue what was happening and I was confused why everyone liked it so much.
My AP English teachers required that we read the classics—the Scarlett Letter (beautifully redemptive), Great Expectations (a slog), Wuthering heights (intriguing). Reading those books with support from my teachers and with an analytic mind was helpful—these books became my favorites (actually…only some of them—Great Expectations is still at the bottom of my list). In my classes, we broke them down slowly, scrutinized word choice and syntax, personification and imagery. I loved it, and I was able to keep up and enjoy the books because I got to write about them. Writing was the way I was able to internalize the themes, meaning, and plot. My teachers read them aloud to me and that made it easier to understand. Most people hate the books they read in school, but my experiences with forced reading of Classics in AP English was actually wonderful for me. I wasn’t a reader, but I was a writer. Comprehending the books was so difficult, but once I understood the plot points, I could analyze it deeply and for hours. And then write poetry about it. I guess understanding text on paper and analyzing it are different skills.
In 2017, I was able to afford a monthly Audible subscription, and I listened to 12 books that year. I was so proud of myself—I was a reader! Finally! I’d felt so much shame for not being a reader, and now I could at least claim 12 books a year. But then I was in the middle of grad school, reading textbooks, which I was generally able to enjoy because I loved the content and I soaked up the lectures from professors. The readings were directly applicable to my work, which always made reading content easier for me. But my book reading dropped off (naturally) during grad school. Once again I wasn’t “a reader”—according to myself and my ambiguous standards.
After grad school, I had more time to get into reading. But it was COVID, and I didn’t have the mental energy to try to comprehend words on a page. I spent my free time watching trash TV—the “Real Housewives of EVERY CITY” or the “Bachelor” because watching people have 1st world problems was soothing in an era of so much turmoil and loss. Watching two women accuse each other of smelling “like a hospital” for an entire season was just the balm my heart needed (bonus points if you get the reference).
I wasn’t reading hardly at all (unless podcasts count), but I started setting a book on my bedside table and committing to read at least a page before I fell asleep. I enjoyed that time, and my reading expanded into day time & vacation reading too.
I decided that I was going to once again become a reader—whatever that means. I set a Goodreads goal to read 60 books in 2023. I started tearing through them: audiobooks, new releases, backlist books that were recommended by friends & family. I love a rigid, measurable goal. I got recommendations from random strangers at the gym who saw me reading before Pilates started. I started following writers online and made my first reader friend (hi Ally:) By the beginning of December 2023, I had read 90 books. I spent the last few weeks pouring through another 10 books so that I could get to an even 100. NOW I was a reader for sure. Right?
I was really proud of that. Proud of how I’d become a reader when reading (or at least comprehending words on paper) used to be so hard for me, and was still sometimes hard for me. I saw my child struggle so much with Dyslexia, and seeing my own reading progress gave me hope that one day, my kiddo could enjoy books too. I wanted my children to be readers. So they could be smart. And well-read. And cultured. And full of complex vocabularies. And maybe now that I’d become a reader amidst the struggles, maybe they could too.
But the more I observed my child struggle with reading, the more I realized how hard they had to work. How VERY smart my child is. How my child compensates for reading struggles by memorizing long passages from audiobooks. By being extra observant because they can’t easily use the crutch of reading words to signify context or meaning. This child has a bigger vocabulary than anyone in our family, yet struggles to read at their own reading level. I see the tears, the frustration, and then I ask myself, “how is this kid any less smart because reading doesn’t come naturally or easily?” And in fact, this child works harder than anyone I’ve ever seen to learn how to read. There’s gotta be some strengths in that—hard work, resilience, learning to overcome insecurities at a young age.
Maybe reading isn’t really a virtue. A means to an end. And it’s okay if we’re not all readers. And it’s okay if I still enjoy reading and make it a priority. But shaming myself or my children for their reading is never going to make it an enjoyable experience. My child has reading tutoring, but outside of that, we listen to lots of audiobooks together, and I do readalouds like the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew. Maybe the virtue is found in our own reading journeys, whatever they may be.
For 2024, I struggled to set a "reading goal.” I didn’t want to just “read” books—I wanted to enjoy them, and I wanted my focus to be on the experience of reading, not just a number. So this year, I’ve actually had more DNF (Did not Finish) books than ever before—giving each book 60-100 pages to convince me to continue and stopping if I wasn’t enjoying the experience. Instead of finishing the book anyway so I could add it to my Goodreads count, I started over with something else.
I wasn’t trying to read a specific number of books, but I tracked each one on Goodreads so I could remember what I’d read and give each book a rating. At the end of June—half way through the year—I checked my book count for the first six months of the year—62 books. I’d already read more than half of the books I’d read in 2023, and I had been less focused on a number. I’d read more books that I’d enjoyed, and I’d been more present while I was reading them. Less focus on trying to become a reader, and I actually reading more. Which wasn’t even the point.
For the last half of the year, I don’t have a reading goal outside of trying to enjoy my reading and to stop seeing reading itself as a virtue and more of a means to an end. I don’t want to be a reader anymore—I want to enjoy reading. I want my kids to enjoy reading. I want to experience reading. I want to focus less on the quantity and more on the quality.
Reading-life is such a culture. There’s merch. And celebrity book clubs. And conventions (I went to my first one this year). And I love being a part of it. I love knowing what books are coming down the pipeline and having favorite auto-buy authors (Emily Henry, Carly Fortune, Rachel Hawkins, Taylor Jenkins Reid). I love having long book conversations with my friend Ally…sharing plot points and different opinions of the same books. Sending each other book-ish memes. All of that is a fun new community that I’ve developed through becoming a “reader.”
But I don’t want to be a reader just so that I can claim the title. I want to enjoy the experience. And although I didn’t consider myself a reader growing up, I did have a handful of experiences where I enjoyed my reading (for some reason, Frankenstein & Silas Marner were top-tier reading experiences). Maybe I was a bit of a reader after all.
Since I didn’t grow up as a reader, I thought I’d list out a few things that helped me shift my reading life into a positive experience:
1). Surrounding myself with book friends: I love a podcast—but listening to bookish podcasts that interview authors and talk about book reviews has been one of the biggest ways I’ve become more interested in reading. My favorite book podcasts are the Bad on Paper Podcast and the What Should I Read Next podcast (this one is like book therapy). I listen to them every single week as soon as they come out, and I love hearing their perspectives and takes on various books.
2). Joining a book club: I have very little interest in joining an in-person book club, but I have joined several online “book clubs” that introduce me to new books and keep me engaged with reading—ie “I want to finish this book before Wednesday’s book club.” My favorite online book clubs are the Bad on Paper Book Club (free book club that highlights new books & authors), Reese’s Book Club (free book club that has brand new releases and is sponsored by Reese Witherspoon), the Modern Ms. Darcy (monthly subscription that includes both backlist and newer books—I love this one because she isn’t being paid or sponsored for her book selections unlike many celebrity book clubs), and the Enchanted book club (monthly subscription that focuses on the classics). I don’t do them all at once, but I sometimes hop around depending on their book choice for the month.
3). Always keep a book on-hand. I always read at least 1 page before bed, usually it’s a lot more. I keep a non-fiction book in the car to read for the unexpected downtimes I incur while chauffeuring my kids around. I’ve always got a few audiobooks on queue in my Libby app. Truly, 75% of my reading is audiobooks and that totally counts as reading.
4). Having book friends: having a few reader friends makes reading more fun because we can give each other book recommendations and reviews. If you don’t have book friends yet, you could post on social media to see who else likes to read. You might be surprised by who is into reading and who you can connect with through books.
5). Making reading an experience. Weekend mornings opening the windows and drinking chai in bed with a book—it feels almost romantic. Before I sit down with a book, I often ask myself, “how can I make my reading time a sensory experience?” Is it lighting a candle? Choosing a quiet soundtrack in the background? Lately I’ve either been choosing Gracie Abrams or a Bridgeton-style soundtrack on Spotify. Maybe it’s adding a cozy blanket for your reading time? Adjusting the lighting? Getting into a comfy pj set before reading? Having a warm, comfortable environment helps me focus on my book at hand.
6). Reading poetry. I’ve always got a poetry book on hand. Whether it’s Mary Oliver, Robert Frost, or a more recent author. Poetry is so grounding and allows my analytical brain to go wild. There’s nothing better than a Mary Oliver poem on the cool, summer morning on the patio.
7). Themed reading. I intentionally choose books that correlate to the time of year. I choose summer romances when it’s hot out and when I go on vacation. I choose more cozy, literary works in the Winter. I read Frankenstein every October (although I never get through it by the end of the month—I’ve read the first half probably 6 times in the last 6 years). I curated a whole list of New Year’s books last year that I read in between New Years & Christmas when I was trying to squeeze in 10 books in 10 days. I’ve got a spooky booklist I’m looking forward to reading this Fall, and I return to romances around Valentine’s Day. I love reading extra poetry and descriptive nature-themed books in the Spring. And nothing will make me put down a book faster in July than reading about a snow storm. I’ve also loved reading with our Heirloom Club each month, choosing a book from our booklist guide that correlates with the time period we are studying. It helps me connect more with the time period of my ancestors that we’re focused on, and it’s been fun to talk with other Heirloom Club members who are reading the same book. Reading books that are set in a specific era of time is one of the most enjoyable ways I’ve learned more about my ancestors.
I’ve loved “becoming a reader” these last few years, but I’ve also realized that life as a reader isn’t really a badge of honor. I’m not smarter than I was when I read less. I don’t think my vocabulary is any better (studying for the GRE is what increased my vocabulary). But what I do know is that I enjoy reading. I’m tired of the shame connected to not being a reader—reading just is inherently more difficult for some people than for others, and it’s not a virtue for me. I want to create beautiful reading experiences that are meaningful, not just read so I can quickly forget what I read and “get through” a certain number of books. No more “getting through” books. More experiencing them.
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This is my first of weekly podcasts where I introduce myself and then read my most recent full Substack Article. Follow along for future podcasts on Spotify. Read the original article here:
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