Disclaimer: This is a post to get things off my chest, and I also wanted to give y’all an update. I don’t feel like I have to do this, but I really wanted to. It does get personal, so if you aren’t interested, just click off. I promise I won’t be offended.
Well, this is awkward.
I had so much I wanted to read this month, and I only ended up reading 40 pages of one book. The will to read is probably the lowest it’s been since I started reading avidly 3-4 years ago. It’s been a month since I finished a book, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon, unfortunately.
I don’t want to give up on my blog and Bookstagram, but I’m struggling to find the joy in it. People say all the time that it’s not about the numbers, but I’m here to say that it’s hard not to think about numbers. I think it ruined the passion I had for this hobby. I felt stressed to post everyday on Instagram in order to grow, but that’s not what it should be about. I felt like I needed to read a book in two days, otherwise people would be bored with my content. I also couldn’t find anything creative to post about on my blog. Book reviews and tags get repetitive, no matter how look at it. I know I don’t need to apologize for it, but I feel like I should. I’m amazed at the amount of people who even read my blog posts. Yeah, it’s not many compared to other blogs, but I don’t feel like playing the comparison game.
I don’t think this is just a cute little reading slump that’ll be over in the snap of a finger. I think I’m losing steam with all of it, and I just need to take a step back and reevaluate what I want. If I’m being honest, I don’t want to track my page count or how many books I read in a month. I’m sick of picking up popular books by authors I’ve already read from. I think branching out would be good for me. I want this to be fun again, and that was the goal when I first started this. No one has pressured me to do anything, but I feel so pressured all the time. Make it make sense.
I’m also not in a good place mentally (surprise, surprise). I’ve always struggled with my mental health since I can remember. I’ve never been to a therapist (mostly due to financial reasons), and the thought of being prescribed medicine for something I could probably change with help and time. I’ve struggled with my body, and when I say that the thoughts ruin my day, month, year, it’s not something I say to be quirky or relatable. It’s real. It impacts my relationship in every possible way. The last couple of months have been extremely rough. I’ve shed a lot of tears over the thought of my relationship ending because of how my body looks (which my boyfriend reassures me all the time that he loves me for me, so no worries).
And before you say that I should exercise regularly and eat better . . . I have! I’ve lost over 50 pounds (in a healthy way/timeline) before, and I ate healthier foods, but I was still repulsed by my body. I’m here to tell you that it’s not always about weight. My body has changed a lot over the years, and I always tell myself that I should have just been happy when I was younger and “skinnier.” I tell myself I had no reason to be unhappy then. How toxic? Having a healthy relationship with food and your body is such a hard feat. Don’t ever bring someone down about it. It doesn’t matter what someone looks like—the grass isn’t always greener on the other side. Everyone deals with different demons. They have different coping mechanisms. Be their support.
I hope all of you understand why I haven’t been / won’t be posting regularly. It’s just supposed to be a hobby, and I want to post when I feel happy to. I’m sick of putting pressure on myself to read a book / post on my blog. I appreciate all of you, and I hope you’re doing well. If any of you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. This year hasn’t been easy, and it’s okay to just let it all out. Don’t hold your feelings in. Listen to your mind and body.
Thanks for reading, everyone! I’ll be back at some point.
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