Not really feeling up for a bit of a self-involved pity party? Feel free to skip this one. But if you're looking for a little more insight as to why I've been pretty silent on this space this year, here's an attempt at explaining where I've been. To be honest, it just felt good to write all of this out, whether or not anyone feels like reading it.
You'd think there'd be plenty of time to read while everyone is stuck at home, right? Unfortunately, for me, that hasn't been the case. While seemingly everyone else I know has been racking up major reading lists in 2020, my own has completely stalled. I'm currently trailing my own Goodreads goal by almost ten.
That isn't to say I haven't been reading: that number would be different if I counted every single book I read, like romance novels and cookbooks. However, I don't count those towards my goal (something I've been considering changing for multiple reasons, none of which inspire me to do so five-sixths of the way through the year). So, while I am still actively pursuing and perusing new reading material - as well as cooking more than ever before - I am certainly not up to the level I'd hoped I'd be in 2020.
Reasons I Haven't Been Reading, shorthand:
- My mental health hasn't exactly been conducive to accomplishing goals, large or small scale... being that we're in a pandemic, during an election year, at a time of major social and political upheaval.
- I've been occupied with other tasks, like managing my garden and, again, cooking way more lasagna, chicken pot pie, and vegan cinnamon rolls than a regular person probably should be.
- Major family events have required my input, involvement, and emotional investment, like coping with a 2020 family wedding, sending my youngest sibling and only brother off to college, and more.
I've been incredibly jealous of those who've been able to use this time as a springboard for bigger and better projects (Two separate friends have started two separate podcasts, one relaunched her professional website, more than five turned furloughs and layoffs into a reason to head back for graduate school, and countless others have suddenly found themselves engaged! And according to the Washington Post, it's not just my social circle who've become masters of lemons-lemonade alchemy).
Maybe I've been having a hard time reading because I also feel very stuck in other various parts of my life. A sense of purposelessness, shame over still living with my parents at 27, confusion over how to proceed with a professional career... all at a time where the economy is fluctuating wildly, and the coronavirus death toll continues to climb higher. I find myself feeling guilty for not being able to operate at my best, when the resources and support I have are highly-recognizable kinds of privilege.
It's clear that it's not just my reading habits that have taken a hit, either. My dedication to journaling has suffered, as have my willingness to attempt practices I've found helpful in the past, like yoga, taking long walks, listening to podcasts, and more. It's hard to feel intentional when even the act of buying jeans - for the first time in two years, after three pairs fell apart over the summer - takes the wind out of your sails.
I had lofty goals for this month, too: It's Fall, a season of renewal for me, and more than that, it's my birth month. I wanted to use this time to rededicate to my favorite healthy habits, and quickly pledged to myself that in October, I'd read for at least half an hour every day. By the third day of the month, I'd already had a misstep; by today, ten days in, I've only spent half of them making a concentrated effort to sit down, unplug my brain, and lose myself in something new.
This is all especially frustrating, as reading habits have a very clear and important role in my life, with defined and consistent results at improving my happiness:
- It cuts my amount of screen time, sometimes by hour-wide margins. In a world where everyone now finds themselves connected virtually, it's a rare chance to rest my eyes.
- It redirects my anxiety: instead of being trapped in my own head, hyper-fixating on my own frustrations, it offers me not only a way out, exploring problems being my own, but also some perspective on issues I'm currently facing.
- It gives me a chance to connect with other people. Whether it's talking to like-minded readers on my bookstagram profile, or chatting with my brother on Zoom, engaging in bookish culture provides a foundation for further conversation, and important social facet I've been missing.
Needless to say, that final component - of the socialization, involvement, and sense of expression that comes from being a part of various bookish communities - is a really big one for me. My involvement on not only the blog, but also my Instagram page (which I've only managed to post on once since May), has demonstrably shifted. Every time I feel moved to post, it feels more motivated by a sense of obligation than enjoyment.
Why bother? Who reads what I write? Who is engaging with it, or more than that, enjoying it at all? These are pretty regular questions for anyone who engages in a creative space (especially on the Internet) to be asking, but in a year when I've felt shut off from other outlets, it feels especially crippling.
My brain relates a little too much to my laptop at the moment: years past its best level of usability, unable to sustain long bouts of action, not really being used for its intended purposes, but still trying its best. It doesn't work if it's not plugged in, and it takes about twenty minutes to boot up, but its still serving me fine. And you know what? Last week, I took off all the clear packing tape that had been holding its screen in place, and replaced it with duct tape, instead... and while it's far from ideal, it's working better. Now I just need to find a way to duct tape my brain, so it works just that little bit better, too. At least enough so that I can figure out how to move on from here.
Maybe reading is the way to do it. Journaling, walking, listening to podcasts, too. I know what's good for me, it's just the energy it takes to change my behavior feels a little out of reach at the moment. I'm still trying to figure out how to get that energy back.
How have your own reading practices been challenged or bolstered by this blockbuster year? What do you spend your time on when you're not in the mood to read? Let me know, in the comments below!
