Hi everyone!
Today's post is going to be a little rambly and meandering and not have that much of a point to it. It's basically going to be a little insight into a bit of my life and if that's not really your cup of tea, then I understand and I will not hold a grudge if you don't want to read this one. But, if you do, then grab yourself a nice warm beverage and settle down for a while. :)
Did you know, that for someone that loves reading as much as I do, I don't actually do that much of it.
It's not because I don't have the time and it's not like I don't have any books to read. On average, I probably have about 5-6 unread books on my shelf at all times. Books that I bought because I really wanted to read them. And I don't buy books on a whim - I don't have the space to do that. If I buy a book, it's because I am absolutely, very sure I'm going to love it, because I have others from the same series and I feel the need to own the complete set or because it was only $2. Actually, it's because of that last reason that I ended up with a book called Murder, Mystery and Mayhem: Details of Hollywood's Most Gruesome Murders (what can I say? I'm a fan of murder mysteries and mysteries in general and it was only $2!).
But I'm getting off track.
I used to read a lot. Like, a lot. In primary school I had a deal with the school librarian. We were technically only allowed to borrow two books per week, but she let me take out four. And generally, I'd be back after two or three days to borrow more. That was all I used to do after school. I'd get home and I'd read. And read and read and read. We would also generally go to the public library once a month as well and I'd get out the maximum number of books there as well, which I think was about twelve. I'd generally read them all within two weeks as well.
Then when I got into high school I read less. I still read, but I had less time.
I'd probably call myself a compulsive reader. I read everything. I have to. If there is writing, I must read it. I read the back of cereal boxes, my sisters' homework, even the instructions that come with things that don't need instructions (like shampoo - who needs instructions on how to use shampoo??). I am one of those annoying people that reads over the shoulders of other people on the train. I have no clue what's going on, and they nearly always read too slowly and sometimes they hold the book so I can only see one page and sometimes I'm just starting to get into it when they get off and I'm left alone again, with no clue what the book was even called. It's all very aggravating. And yet, I still do it. I do it when I'm not alone either. I'll be trying to hold a conversation with a friend and yet my eyes will keep drifting over to the book of the person next to me. It always makes me lose my train of thought.
I have spent many an hour in uncomfortable positions on the floor, or perched on a couch arm or leaning against a counter, reading the book/magazine/leaflet/article/essay/recipe that I've seen and now have to read. I don't know why. Most of it isn't that interesting.
And yet, for all my accidental, in the moment reads, I don't deliberately set out to read a book all that often.
To an extent, I'm not really sure why I don't. I love reading. I will happily confess that to anyone that asks and many that don't. And yet, I don't read that much.
The only reason that I can come up is that it takes too much time. I lose too much time to reading if I do that. I lose myself to the book.
I know, that seems contradictory to my above statement about how I will stay in weird and very uncomfortable positions in order to finish reading whatever it is that I have picked up. And that is very true. I once spent close to two hours on a stair in the middle of my staircase reading my copy of Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets because I saw it there from where my sister had left it. And anyone that has ever seen my staircase knows that wouldn't be very comfortable. I have wooden open tread stairs with no carpet or anything on them and I wasn't even leaning against the wall (I ended up with a really sore bottom and neck).
Anyway, I digress again.
I know it doesn't make any sense (about the time it takes for reading, not getting a sore neck and bottom - that makes perfect sense). But when I consciously think about how much time I will actually have to dedicate to reading a book, it seems almost like a waste of time. That it's a lot of time that I could have spent doing something because. Because I can't just read a little bit. I have to read it all.
And this annoys the hell out of my parents. Because I get utterly absorbed in reading. They insist that I have 'selective deafness' and am just ignoring them, but I honestly can't hear them. When I read, I lose track of time and of what's going on in the outside world.
I can't count the number of times that I have risen from reading and been astonished at the time that has passed, or how hungry I am. I can read though hunger and thirst, through exhaustion and through most amounts of mild pain/discomfort. It's not until I stop reading that the rest of the world comes crashing back down on me.
I am always amazed at how much a book can change while I'm reading it. My hands sweat heap (gross, I know, but we'll move on) and I can start with a brand new book, only to have the pages and cover become fuzzy and furry by the end. I curl the pages with my right hand while I reading, so books never quite lie flat once I've finished with them. I will also cry at the slightest things, so it's not unsurprising to re-read a favourite book and find there are a couple of pages that are always slightly more curly and water damaged than the rest and then become more so by the time I've finished reading it again.
So I don't really take reading lightly. I just don't know how.
Reading is an escape. A way to shed my troubles and escape the constraints of my own life. Because I get so absorbed in reading I can forget my troubles for a while. Reading allows me to lift myself above my fears, my worries, my pain and my real life, just for a little while.
I never really noticed how much I rely on reading as a coping method until just recently. I had a bad couple of days and it was only after I emerged the on the other side that I realised that the reason I survived and managed as well as I did that time was mainly because of reading. I holed myself up in my room, in my blankets and I read. I dissolved myself in the stories. I lost myself to the words, the characters and the worlds within the pages. By disintegrating myself in this way, by emptying myself until my entire head was filled only with the stories, the lives and the emotions of these fictional characters, I managed to stay afloat.
It seems a little contradictory and not all that healthy, to dissolve oneself like that, avoiding problems and life, in an attempt to stay/regain relative emotional and mental stability. Whether it is perfectly healthy, I don't know, but it doesn't end up hurting me and doesn't put myself, or anyone I love, in danger so yeah, it seem's like not a too bad idea to me.
And for those that never suffered through a depressive episode, it's an all consuming, suffocating ball of hate, sad and emptiness. Or at least for me. It's a pit of blackness and darkness that makes even the easiest, most mundane tasks in the world seem like massive, insurmountable obstacles. It involves a lot of apathy and crying. As you can imagine, not being that state would obviously be a vast improvement. And that's why I turn to reading in those times. As I said before, when I read, I can escape my life. Sure, it's not going to make me feel better when I stop reading, but if it's just a case of riding out a bad day or week, then escape is what I'm looking for.
And when I feel empty and blunted and disconnected from life, I can use my stories to replace those missing feelings. Even though I can't seem to feel anything at that time, I can read about other people's happiness and sadness and anger and love. And that helps me keep it together.
But no matter what happens, I will always keep reading. Whether it be as a coping method, or as an escape, or a way to pass time, or just by accident, I will always love to read.
What are your thoughts on reading? Love it? Hate it? And what do you do when coping with the bad times? On that note, I wrote a bit about self help and self care a while back, with tips for looking after yourself and being kind to yourself, if you're interested in that.
Today's post is going to be a little rambly and meandering and not have that much of a point to it. It's basically going to be a little insight into a bit of my life and if that's not really your cup of tea, then I understand and I will not hold a grudge if you don't want to read this one. But, if you do, then grab yourself a nice warm beverage and settle down for a while. :)
Did you know, that for someone that loves reading as much as I do, I don't actually do that much of it.
It's not because I don't have the time and it's not like I don't have any books to read. On average, I probably have about 5-6 unread books on my shelf at all times. Books that I bought because I really wanted to read them. And I don't buy books on a whim - I don't have the space to do that. If I buy a book, it's because I am absolutely, very sure I'm going to love it, because I have others from the same series and I feel the need to own the complete set or because it was only $2. Actually, it's because of that last reason that I ended up with a book called Murder, Mystery and Mayhem: Details of Hollywood's Most Gruesome Murders (what can I say? I'm a fan of murder mysteries and mysteries in general and it was only $2!).
But I'm getting off track.
I used to read a lot. Like, a lot. In primary school I had a deal with the school librarian. We were technically only allowed to borrow two books per week, but she let me take out four. And generally, I'd be back after two or three days to borrow more. That was all I used to do after school. I'd get home and I'd read. And read and read and read. We would also generally go to the public library once a month as well and I'd get out the maximum number of books there as well, which I think was about twelve. I'd generally read them all within two weeks as well.
Then when I got into high school I read less. I still read, but I had less time.
 |
| Source |
I have spent many an hour in uncomfortable positions on the floor, or perched on a couch arm or leaning against a counter, reading the book/magazine/leaflet/article/essay/recipe that I've seen and now have to read. I don't know why. Most of it isn't that interesting.
And yet, for all my accidental, in the moment reads, I don't deliberately set out to read a book all that often.
To an extent, I'm not really sure why I don't. I love reading. I will happily confess that to anyone that asks and many that don't. And yet, I don't read that much.
The only reason that I can come up is that it takes too much time. I lose too much time to reading if I do that. I lose myself to the book.
 |
| Source |
Anyway, I digress again.
I know it doesn't make any sense (about the time it takes for reading, not getting a sore neck and bottom - that makes perfect sense). But when I consciously think about how much time I will actually have to dedicate to reading a book, it seems almost like a waste of time. That it's a lot of time that I could have spent doing something because. Because I can't just read a little bit. I have to read it all.
And this annoys the hell out of my parents. Because I get utterly absorbed in reading. They insist that I have 'selective deafness' and am just ignoring them, but I honestly can't hear them. When I read, I lose track of time and of what's going on in the outside world.
I can't count the number of times that I have risen from reading and been astonished at the time that has passed, or how hungry I am. I can read though hunger and thirst, through exhaustion and through most amounts of mild pain/discomfort. It's not until I stop reading that the rest of the world comes crashing back down on me.
I am always amazed at how much a book can change while I'm reading it. My hands sweat heap (gross, I know, but we'll move on) and I can start with a brand new book, only to have the pages and cover become fuzzy and furry by the end. I curl the pages with my right hand while I reading, so books never quite lie flat once I've finished with them. I will also cry at the slightest things, so it's not unsurprising to re-read a favourite book and find there are a couple of pages that are always slightly more curly and water damaged than the rest and then become more so by the time I've finished reading it again.
So I don't really take reading lightly. I just don't know how.
Reading is an escape. A way to shed my troubles and escape the constraints of my own life. Because I get so absorbed in reading I can forget my troubles for a while. Reading allows me to lift myself above my fears, my worries, my pain and my real life, just for a little while.
 |
| Source |
It seems a little contradictory and not all that healthy, to dissolve oneself like that, avoiding problems and life, in an attempt to stay/regain relative emotional and mental stability. Whether it is perfectly healthy, I don't know, but it doesn't end up hurting me and doesn't put myself, or anyone I love, in danger so yeah, it seem's like not a too bad idea to me.
And for those that never suffered through a depressive episode, it's an all consuming, suffocating ball of hate, sad and emptiness. Or at least for me. It's a pit of blackness and darkness that makes even the easiest, most mundane tasks in the world seem like massive, insurmountable obstacles. It involves a lot of apathy and crying. As you can imagine, not being that state would obviously be a vast improvement. And that's why I turn to reading in those times. As I said before, when I read, I can escape my life. Sure, it's not going to make me feel better when I stop reading, but if it's just a case of riding out a bad day or week, then escape is what I'm looking for.
And when I feel empty and blunted and disconnected from life, I can use my stories to replace those missing feelings. Even though I can't seem to feel anything at that time, I can read about other people's happiness and sadness and anger and love. And that helps me keep it together.
But no matter what happens, I will always keep reading. Whether it be as a coping method, or as an escape, or a way to pass time, or just by accident, I will always love to read.
What are your thoughts on reading? Love it? Hate it? And what do you do when coping with the bad times? On that note, I wrote a bit about self help and self care a while back, with tips for looking after yourself and being kind to yourself, if you're interested in that.
No comments :
Post a Comment
Getting, reading and replying to your comments make my day, so please go and and tell me your thoughts.