I used to read a lot. Like many things in my life, I feel like I lost that. My self identity was a “reader”. It’s not glamorous but it was my thing. Since November I may have finished one book. Going from finishing a book every two days to finishing a book in 4 months, that’s just insane.
Books and the stories used to excite me and draw me in. They used to give me a sense of adventure. But now, every time I sit down to read, I can’t focus or the story doesn’t pull me in. For a while I thought it might be that I didn’t like the author or that I wasn’t connecting with the main character. Really though, the problem was with me.
I don’t know why but I can’t read anymore.
I’ve been listening to a lot of audio books and there has been a little success there but I usually lose interest in the story and go back to listening to music or a podcast. Does this mean I’m broken?
Sometimes I feel like I’m a container that has lots of cracks in it. I keep trying to fill it with water to fill myself up but it all leaks out. I find momentary joy in things but long term it just goes away. When did those cracks start? Months ago? Years ago? I don’t know. It makes me want to scream!! Why can’t I just be happy!?!? Why can’t I find joy in the things I once loved?!?!
I get so frustrated with myself. I can see the people around me getting frustrated as well. If I could “fix” myself, I would. I don’t want to be like this anymore. I don’t want to be the one with a fake smile and sad eyes. I want to be better.
I decided that I will try to be better… I’m going to read “Daughter of the Forrest” again. It’s my favorite book. I’ve read it at least 10 times over the years. If I can connect with anything, it’s that book.