Happy Friday all!
It is no secret that I am addicted to books. Seriously addicted. I can not stop wandering the shelves in search of new books, when I already have so many at home. This week has been especially rough, as we have been to one library twice so Eleanor and her BFF could play and we are going to a different library tomorrow for story time. Needless to say, I now have a stack of about 30 books by the couch, when there are already so many that I own on my desk and Kindle. On the other hand, there are worse things to be addicted to, so...
I came across this book in the biography section and the title intrigued me. I had no idea what it was about until I saw the cover. I considered putting it back; it is heavy subject matter and truth be told, once I had a child I could not even watch Law and Order: SVU anymore, so the idea of reading about one woman's real life trauma was almost too much. But then I reconsidered. While I am not a survivor of sexual assault, I know many women who are. I have a daughter who I am raising in this incredibly difficult time when rape-culture and victim-blaming is still the norm. So, with caution I am starting this one tonight after I post the line.
"I was thirty years old when I left my body for the first time."