How To Repair Your Relationship With Reading

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There was once a time where I could pick up a book, read it in a couple of days, and then (barely) reflect and move on. It became a natural cycle of reading. A simple relationship with literature in which I found a deep sense of not only happiness but also security and a sense of self. 

And I’m sure you can relate to that feeling.

Over time, my relationship with reading has strengthened and even felt incredibly long-distant. As though I was still here in New York and my bestie reading was all the way to Australia. Both of us living our lives separately, only stopping to briefly think about each other from time to time. 

I’ve devoured books, lost my love of books, re-ignited it again and again and again. 

Reading Shouldn’t Be Complicated

We all read for a variety of reasons. Some for fun, some for education, some for self-improvement. Some for shock value, or knowledge. 

According to my mom, I started reading at age 3. I remember staying up late in middle school to devour the books I’d borrowed from the library or bought at the Scholastic Fair. Which was usually a lot. I loved saving up my birthday money to spend at the book fair. 

If you also spent all your birthday/chore money at the Book Fair, then congrats! You’ve found your people!

Throughout high school, my love of reading never wavered. 

It wasn’t until I reached my twenties that I stopped reading. I fell in love with writing. Instead of reading words, typing them, scribbling them, thinking they took over every piece of me. 

Reading Become Complicated

The problem is that good writing requires reading. And good reading can inspire great writing. 

I stumbled into what would be the first of many book slumps. So many times I would start reading a book only to sigh in disappointment that it was yet another book I didn’t like. 

So I turned to writing down all of my ideas. I even published two books and thought that I’d found my calling. To be an author. 

To write books, have a loyal fanbase, and get paid to do what I love. 

But I would never be a great writer. I stopped reading. Even I knew my writing could be improved on. 

I was so convinced that the only stories I would love again were the ones that I wrote myself. 

So What’s My Point?

I’ve come to learn that nothing in life is forever. 

I have fluctuated between devouring books and barely having anything to read. 

To wanting to be a best-selling author, to not having written a fictional story in years. 

We spend a lot of time online and in that time; consuming a lot of media about our interests. We watch videos of people who have read 25 books in a month and then feel bad about ourselves. 

We watch people write their dream novel and feel guilt over giving up on writing our own. Or not making the time. 

I’ve hit another point where I still love reading, but it feels lackluster again. And my reading has slowed down quite a bit. It makes me think about my content, when most of what I post has to do with what I read. 

The Future of My Relationship With Reading

I want to slow down. I want to stop comparing myself to those voracious readers online who post about reading 100 books in a year. 

I’d like to remember what I have read before jumping into the next book. Mostly, I want my relationship with reading to be less turbulent. Less comparative. Less competitive. 

Slow reading is a great thing, and as we transition from summer into autumn, I am very much looking forward to slowing down. Reading books that really interest me and being less afraid of DNF-ing a book. 

After many of the years of an on-off again relationship with reading, I think we have finally come to a clear understanding. 

So what about you? How will you heal your relationship with reading?

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