Like almost everyone, I go through phases with books. I’ll get really into Goodreads and find about 5000 books that I want to read, and then I’m pumped and ready to read. Then I go to actually pick up that first book and it just sits there on my desk for about a month. I keep thinking about how much I really want to read, but it’s like my brain literally won’t let me pick up the book. I absolutely hate this feeling. It’s probably one of my least favorite periods of time in life because my entire world revolves around books. I mean, I’m a librarian – I literally deal with books as a job. And then when I go to relax and try to get my brain to stop for a second by immersing myself into another world through a lighthearted fantasy or romantic page turner, I just can’t.
As a kid, I was that dorky little Shirley Temple-haired girl who pretty much had to be forced to go outside and play with her friends because she’d rather read. I distinctly remember dreading having friends over. I remember spending weekends laying all over the living room couch immersed in books. I remember not really ever having a bed time because I was just spending that extra time reading. When I was old enough to truly participate in the Accelerated Reader (AR) programs at school, it then became a competition to me. I wanted to read as many books as possible – even the “hard” ones – just so I could earn the most points. 4th grade was particularly intense because it was essentially one other girl (ohhh Carrie Christensen! I remember you!) and myself competing for the top amount of AR points. She ended up beating me, unfortunately, but I still got to use my points to “buy” a super cool lava lamp at the end of the school year. Pretty sure I worshiped that lamp until early high school.
I don’t have as many memories of reading the next few years because a lot of stuff happened in my life that sent me in one of my “my brain doesn’t let me read” modes. I didn’t really notice until later in life, but I realized that this inability to read occurred when I was going through particularly heavy bouts of depression. When I’m really depressed, I have a tendency to go one of two ways. I either can’t focus enough to pick up a book at all, or I get so obsessive over something – usually a series (whether that be book or TV) that I literally don’t want to do anything else. I much prefer the obsessive modes, but lately for me it’s been the unfocused ones. And it sucks.
For the past 9 or so months, I’ve been stuck in “my brain doesn’t let me read” mode, with an occasional time period where I can read maybe a book or two. It’s had a serious effect on my books read count — I normally average between 50 and 70 books, but it’s September and I’m not even at 15. But I have my reasons – I know why my brain is malfunctioning. I’ve had a bunch of medical issues and a series of medication changes, and I think that maybe I’m finally crawling out of the pit. I’m hopeful that my upswing continues and I get back to full on book hoarding (not that this ever really stopped) and book bingeing. Here’s to hoping!