Reader’s Block

I need to start this by saying that I am a pretty voracious reader. I’m almost certain it’s something quirky I get from the OCD, but when I get into something, I commit. Like full hog, no holds barred, and any other cliche you can think of to express the intense interest I take in everything I do. 

I go through phases with my reading, finishing about a book a day every day for a few weeks, then passing long periods of time without starting anything new. Case in point–I spent about three solid months dedicated solely to home renovations but still managed to complete 58 books last year. For the last two weeks, however, I’ve been stuck on one book. And it’s not because it’s not interesting or entertaining, but because I have reader’s block.

Yes, much like writer’s block, I’m going to say that reader’s block is a real thing. In fact, for me the two tend to go hand in hand. When I’m struggling with writer’s block, I often find myself suffering with reader’s block too. And unfortunately, this is my current reality.

I just feel perpetually bored. I flopped dramatically across the countertop yesterday to express this point, but couldn’t even manage to laugh at myself due to said boredom. 

I’ve started to notice patterns within myself and have begun to identify when I’m struggle because of my mental health. And that’s exactly what’s happening to me right now. First I get overwhelmed. But that’s not what it initially feels like. I’m just really busy juggling a few more tasks than usual in my life. I push through, get things done, and then it’s like this weird mental letdown after the fact that leaves me with a loss of interest, incredibly tired, and struggling to focus. If you follow psychology, you might recognize these as signs of depression. And you would be right.

Depression isn’t something we talk about much in our society. It’s that dark secret we keep hidden deep within our closets. While I feel incredibly grateful that I only deal with these emotions intermittently and in small doses, for me, depression is that pesky younger sibling I can’t seem to stop from following me around and popping up into my business at the worst times.

And you know what I’ve come to realize? I’m not alone in this. Not by a long shot. The need to feel a little less alone in my struggles is ultimately what brought me to write TWO WHITE PILLS. Maybe not everyone deals with the same things I do, but I am far from the only person who does. And so I seek out my people both around me and in literature, to help me feel a little less alone. I’m sure this need is also what drives me to read so much. Thus fueling my desire to write.

So while right now I’m fumbling through this reader’s block, trying to get back to my normal routine of reading and writing, I’m going to cut myself some slack. I’m not going to get angry with myself over this thing I can’t always control. Sure, happiness is a mindset, but like I read recently, telling someone to choose to be happy during a bout of depression is like telling someone to grow a few inches or change their foot size.

This won’t last forever, or even long really in the grand scheme of things, but for now, I’m going to be okay with not being okay. I’ll keep pushing forward, blazing a trail until I feel more myself again. Because that day will come. It always does—I promise you that. Bad days do pass. Bad periods of time in your life do too. Don’t let the storm you’re currently passing through define you—let it help refine you. Because, like Matt Haig says in his book REASONS TO STAY ALIVE, “when you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in.” And that’s kind of the point, isn’t it?