I used to read a lot. At night after homework, and before bed. Sometimes far too late into the night. I used to read through any car ride, no matter how long, and during any spare weekend hours. Sometimes I’d read in the hall before classes, or at lunch. I loved the stories books held, especially if they were fiction, from another world, another time, or both. Books were friends that always made me feel welcome, they were a much needed respite from the complicated world around me. They taught me new words, shared experiences I never thought I would live, and gave me adventures and lessons.
Social distancing hasn’t made me feel my best. It’s frustrating to see the same things every day, to deal with the complex emotions of gratitude for what have, while missing so many things and people. I feel lucky to have technology that keeps me in touch with my friends, to be able to adapt my jobs to work from home, and to be able to continue moving and dancing in my little home studio. But there are still days when I wake up and feel like I can’t possibly keep doing this. Days where I’d rather lay in bed than take a barre, where I don’t feel like I have anything good to say, and I’m just flat out exhausted even though I did nothing. Daily, no matter how positive my mood, there’s an underlying feeling of being stuck. Before we reached this level of social distancing and sheltering in place, I was ready to make changes, to move forward. Then this pesky pandemic (to put it lightheartedly) made its debut in my community.
I’ve watched people I know become so beautifully creative in their versions of isolation. Friends picking up new hobbies or rediscovering old ones. I’ve seen the most amazing photos, the most beautiful art creations and the most inspiring living room/bedroom/kitchen wiggles.
I’ve tried to wiggle, I’ve tried to take walks, to mediate and bake. The one thing I’ve continuously been able take solace in is reading. I have gone back to my bookworm roots. We have a wonderful collection of books in our house. Fiction books, nonfiction, science fiction, empowerment books, history books and more. So I collected a stack of books I wanted to read, and kept a list of titles I saw and wanted to find.
I’m usually easily overwhelmed when things pile up, or lists steadily grow longer, my books don’t seem bother me. There’s something exciting about that pile of possibilities; the worlds, characters and stories I have yet to discover. It’s soothing to pick up a book and feel the cover in my hands. To feel the satisfying turn of a page, and the emotion of reading the final word.
Reading has offered me a safe escape from the unyielding torrent of opinions I see on social media and the news alerts that drain the battery on my phone. Reading has helped me creep back into feeling like someone I could like. It has helped me slow down racing thoughts and expand my mind. It’s helped me pick up my own pen and put it back to paper.
As the world very slowly tries to reopen, and create a new normal, my plan is to keep books in my life as a way to help me fly into worlds unknown, and stay grounded in the world around me.
