“I don’t have time for this,” I think as the women trickle in one by one. By the time we start we number about a dozen. I’m waiting for breakfast and I’m skeptical we can accomplish anything with such a large group.

I’ve driven 30 minutes to a women’s mastermind meeting at a random Perkin’s. It’s not like I’m going to just turn around and go home. I take a deep breath and tell myself to be positive, to stay open. I think of one of my favorite occupational therapy professors who was known for saying there was something to learn from every single experience if you look for it.

I’m about halfway through my first cup of coffee when I realize I don’t have to look that hard.

I find myself nodding when the other women speak honestly about their fear, their overwhelm, and their hope that this year will be different. I want to jump up from my green vinyl covered chair and hug the other moms who talk about the ever-present battle between being present with our children and needing to send that email/hit publish on that blog post/submit that invoice.

The older women among us fight about who is oldest (a 72-year-old wins that argument) and tell us what they wish they could tell their younger selves: Our kids won’t be young forever. On our deathbeds, we will not wish we’d been more productive at work. One woman chokes back tears describing the setbacks she experienced last year—setbacks so frequent and crushing I’m having a hard time keeping it together just listening to her.

We offer each other suggestions, ideas, and stories about what has worked for us. We suggest our favorite books, websites, and apps. We listen to one another. I can’t speak for the other women but I feel seen. We get out our phones and add our next meeting to our calendars.

I could have stayed home on that snowy morning. The roads were treacherous on the drive home. I could have spent my precious free time alone with an hour to write, an hour to work out, and another hour to spend one of my many Facebook writer groups. In any one of those groups, I could have found dozens of threads where women described their goals, their insecurities, their word for the year. I could have gotten advice or support. I could have just lurked, feeling reassured to see I wasn’t the only one worried about doing things “right”, that I wasn’t the only person doubting my abilities or my big goals.

But there’s no amount of likes, hearts, or comments that can replace one person making eye contact and nodding.

In her TED talk on shame, Brene Brown says the most powerful words we can hear when we’re struggling are “Me too.” It was worth the snowy drive and the mediocre coffee just to hear those words, to feel seen.

My problems haven’t disappeared. My questions haven’t all been answered. I still feel like I’m forging a path through a thick jungle using only a machete. But I know that somewhere nearby, even if I can’t see or hear them all the time, there are a dozen other women doing the same thing. This knowledge simultaneously gives me the energy of four espressos and the confidence of three glasses of wine.

As I’m leaving Perkins, I buy a few cookies for Dan and the kids. I’m not intending to eat one until later but the oatmeal cranberry cookie is warm and I’m starving. I step out into the parking lot where cold, wet snowflakes soak my face and I take a bite of my cookie. It’s sweet, slightly tart, soft, and chewy. It’s exactly what I needed.

At this point, I’ve read 47 books in 2018. They were mostly fiction (27), some memoir/essay (eight)) and some non-fiction (seven). (If you want to see everything I’ve read/am reading, here’s a link to my Goodreads profile.) It was really hard to pick my top ten because I never read books I don’t like. I normally know if I’ll like a book within the first couple of pages, but I have been known to quit books 20 pages in, 50 pages in, or even halfway to the end. Life is just too short to read books I don’t love.

Here are my ten favorites from this year, in no particular order.

Educated by Tara Westover

Westover’s ability to create a compelling narrative is unreal. She has this incredible ability (especially at a relatively young age) to make sense of the unbelievable events of her childhood with wisdom, clarity, kindness, and beauty. This is a story about how history shapes the present and the future. It asks questions who is authorized to create history and where that power originates. It acknowledges that truth can be hard if not impossible to pin down without discounting the value of searching for it.

Sing, Unburied, Sing by Jesmyn Ward
  
This book was almost a mix of poetry and prose. Ward’s writing style is juicy and delicious but never overly descriptive or boring. I would love to spend a day in her head just to know what it’s like to sit down at a computer and type (or write) with that kind of language. Beside the beautiful writing, the characters are richly drawn, the plot is compelling, and despite the heart-wrenching agony it evokes on nearly every page, there’s a strong thread of hope and redemption, too.

Stay With Me by Ayobami Adebayo

The writing is sharp, simple, and evocative. There is so much sensory detail but it’s never flowery or overly wordy. Just enough description to make you feel like you’re right there. Speaking of right there, it’s set in Nigeria. I knew basically nothing about Nigeria before picking up this book, so beside being completely captivated by the story, I learned something about Nigeria and its stormy politics. The book is heavy. SO HEAVY. I was up reading it in the middle of the night because I couldn’t sleep and it definitely did not relax me. But I loved it so much I was almost grateful for that sleepless night just to get a chance to spend 2.5 uninterrupted hours with it.

I laughed. I cried. I thought about feminism, dumb things I did in my 20’s, my relationships with my grandmother, my mom, my daughters, my friends. I thought about what it means to reinvent one’s self. What else can you ask for in a book? It was delicious and quick- great vacation read.

Small Fry by Lisa Brennan-Jobs 

The way Brennan-Jobs describes her experiences is remarkable in the level of detail but also the plainness of her language. She relays her memories, her feelings, but she rarely lets you know how she feels about the events of the past now that she’s had some distance from them and can see them with an adult perspective, but somehow it doesn’t feel like anything is missing.

Not only is the writing clear and bright, but the story is also one of hope and resilience. Though the author never comes out and says it, as a reader, I understood that through her travails, she learned that money can never be a substitute for love and happiness, that what you think you want isn’t always what is going to actually make you happy, that there is power in knowing who you are and what you want, and that you can grow into a strong person despite a shaky foundation.

 

The Leavers by Lisa Ko 

This was heavy, at times difficult to read, beautiful, and tender. It explores culture, family, and identity while shining a much-needed light on the trauma and injustices that often characterize immigration to the US. It should be required reading for all Americans.

 

Sunburn by Laura Lippman

This was the perfect summer vacation book. It has it all: richly drawn characters, an unpredictable plot, expert storytelling, and it makes you question your assumptions about what it means to be a “good woman.” At least that’s what it did for me.

 

An American Marriage  by Tayari Jones 

This is the type of book that stayed with me for days after I closed it for the last time. Jones alternates between three different narrators: Celestial, Roy, and Andre. Celestial and Roy are newlyweds when Roy is convicted of a crime he did not commit. While Roy is in prison, the friendship Celestial and Andre have shared since childhood turns into romantic love. My heart ached for each of these richly drawn, relatable, intensely lovable characters. It reminded me of The Light Between Oceans in that you can’t help rooting for each character, even though one’s redemption will be another’s loss.

And while it was about love, loss, letting go, the nature of love, the bounds of marriage, it was also very much about race. I’m not sure what’s “okay” to write publicly about race as a white person but here goes: I do not spend any time worrying that the men in my life will be killed by the police or wrongly imprisoned. And though I am aware, on an intellectual level, that this is something Black people deal with on a daily basis, it’s still not something I consider very often or on an emotional level. Reading this book heightened my awareness of my white privilege.

Cruel Beautiful World by Caroline Leavitt 

Insanely gripping. The writing was gorgeous, the plot was tight, and despite making me cry my eyes out about once every chapter (at least) it left me feeling hopeful. If you liked All The Ugly Wonderful Things, you would probably like this one, too. It’s about identity, family, and coming to grips with mortality.