Reading books, whether fiction or nonfiction, never piqued my interest. Instead, it seemed to bring forth an unexplained, deep level of hatred. Being forced to read dated stories about fated love to fated death, two hounds in The Great Depression, socialist animals who took over a farm, three prophesying witches, and much more, seemed to light the flame of hatred at a very young age. Don’ t mistake my previous negligence to these books as my current understanding. I now see these stories as essential, important reading, but that hasn’ t extinguished my blame on them for putting a putrid taste in my mouth in adjacence with reading. After years of required readings and analysis throughout primary school, it took me until the age of 18 to realize that reading wasn’ t limited to what I had previously been introduced to. In fact, for me, it turned out to be the door to all future possibilities.
Mental health is a common topic in modern-day society, so the idea of debilitating anxiety and panic disorder usually comes to one’ s mind easily and with understanding. Unfortunately, this widespread, universal awareness came too late for me and my parents to personally understand why, after a huge friendship breakup as well as a relational breakup, I
fell short as a human and a student. A common phrase I heard when my life began to fall into shambles was that“ everything happens for a reason” and“ God has a plan.” Well as someone who isn’ t religious and, in that moment, was unable to see any reason for what had happened to me, I began to spiral. Pieces of my personality began chipping off my mind with every breath I took. Anxiety encased my lungs and mind with a lock and key, suffocating any chance of growth and healing. The heavy weight of society, media, and reality continued to crush my spirit and overwhelm my mind, so my parents and I decided to do technology and social cleansing. I needed to find out who I was without those pressures and a debilitating dependence on others. Having the chance to independently grow in a social vacuum was something that I wasn’ t going to pass up.
The first book I picked up on my own time was a self-help book called Girl Wash Your Face by Rachel Hollis. Although now I see that it was a baseline, privileged, generic approach to giving life advice, at the time I saw it as key to the anxiety that had imbedded and locked itself into my person. I was shocked that modern books were allowed to talk to readers with affection, honesty, and modesty. Elation coursed through my veins when I saw effective come-
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