When I first picked up The Book of Moods by Lauren Martin, I wasn’t expecting to feel so…seen. I thought I was opening a self-help book. Instead, I found a mirror. A companion. A gentle bur firm nudge toward emotional honesty.
Lauren doesn’t promise perfection. She doesn’t tell us to “fix” ourselves or outgrow our feelings. Instead, she writes with a raw tenderness about what it means to live inside a body that feels deeply and a mind that reacts instinctively.
Moods Are Messy—And That’s Okay
One of the most powerful takeaways? That our moods are not weaknesses.
They’re teachers. Messengers. Sometimes frustrating, sometimes inconvenient—but always honest.
Lauren writes candidly about the spiral of moods we don’t always understand: envy, irritability, self-doubt, sudden joy. She doesn’t try to erase them. She learns how to live with them. That, in itself, is radical.
How often do we shame ourselves for feeling “too much”? How often do we try to control the uncontrollable—our moods, our emotions, our inner tides?
This book reminded me that being human means feeling all of it. And that’s not a flaw—it’s a kind of freedom.
Naming the Feeling Softens It
What I loved most was Lauren’s insistence on naming our moods. Not suppressing hem. Not pretending they’re not there. Just naming.
“I feel anxious right now.”
“I feel tender today.”
“I’m angry, and I don’t fully know why.”
She shows us how naming the storm doesn’t stop the rain, but it does offer shelter. And often, that’s all we need.
You Don’t Have to Be Perfect to Be at Peace
The Book of Moods reminds me that personal growth isn’t about becoming unshakeable. It’s about becoming more aware.
More tuned in.
More gentle with ourselves.
More accepting of what is—without judgment.
And that’s what we explore in Moments of You too: the sacred pause between reaction and reflection. The power of recognizing what you feel before you rush to change it.
A Moment of You
If you’re in the thick of a heavy mood right now, you’re not alone.
Take a breath.
Name it.
Let it be here.
Ask it: What are you trying to show me?
The act alone is powerful. That is healing.
Because moods will come and go. But your capacity to meet them with softness? That stays.
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