In her debut memoir, Russ interweaves memories of her childhood with an account of her relationship with her partner of 13 years. Brian, who was initially just a friend, had everything that the author coveted and did not yet have herself: confidence, sureness, and capability. When they transitioned to a romantic relationship, Russ leaned heavily on Brian’s affirmations and physical presence, and when he proposed both marriage and a new life on a sailing vessel, the author couldn’t help but agree. But something inside her constantly pulled her back, just a little bit—a desire to stay grounded, to stand up for her own wants, and to find out what those wants even were. The author needed to know who she was apart from her marriage to Brian and their nomadic life on the waves. She was also guarding a guilty secret: “I wanted to tell him I didn’t deserve him, and I probably never had.” As Russ recalls arguments, friendships, and wonder-filled encounters with marine life and people around the world, she simultaneously chronicles her gradual but steady buckling under her own whirlpool of thoughts. In this telling—the pace of the narrative is measured and slow—the author always seems to know the truth behind her silences and hesitations, and the decisions she felt compelled to make but ultimately regretted. As Russ continues to unpack the dilemmas that carried on despite her self-awareness, readers may grow frustrated by her lack of action or attempts to change. Still, the memoir is a moving testament to self-empathy during periods of stagnation and seeming hopelessness—Russ reassures readers that there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel, one that the author, with no lack of struggle, reaches with a clarity and confidence of her own.