A lost reader 

Over the past few months my reading habits have changed, and it’s not something I am proud of. 

I reached a good rhythm where I could finish any book I was reading within a week or so, and averaging about three to four books a month.  

This gave me the chance to read a book club book, a fun book and a book that was on my list and I meant to read for a long time.  

I found that it was the only way I could tackle my never-ending pile of books on my shelves.  

There are so many books I want to read, there are so many I keep adding to my list of books on my Notes app on my phone, there are so many I see reviewed online that call to me.  

And it’s not that the dedication is not there. I carry my Kindle or a paperback with me everywhere I go.  

Putting my phone down and picking them up is a whole other matter altogether.  

I fall asleep at night and wake up to find my Kindle in bed next to me. But I may have only managed a page, maybe two at most before I’ve passed out.  

I spend hours doomscrolling on my phone or watching TV shows which I’ve watched a million times before, without actually taking in what I am watching or seeing on my screen.  

For now, my free time is dedicated to endless hours of Gilmore Girls re-runs and getting upset about American politics on the internet.  

Give me a 10-part series on how you found out your husband was cheating on you on TikTok and my attention span has no issues.  

But give me a book and after two pages my head starts hurting, or I stop listening, or I somehow have no issues with falling asleep.  

The last time this happened to me was after a Covid infection in January 2021.  

I developed really bad brain fog and headaches and struggled to read for the longest of time.  

That’s when I discovered audiobooks and quickly began devouring books beyond the one credit a month on my Audible subscription.  

At a time when my anxiety was high, listening to familiar stories became a source of comfort and something I did for a couple of years before I became more confident with reading again.  

After googling this and looking up Reddit threads, I was able to I train myself to read books again. 

Instead of reading for an hour or so, I started reading in short bursts.   

Some 10 to 15 minutes to start my day, a further 20 to 30 minutes after I got home from work.  

And if I could then another 10 to 15 minutes before going to bed.  

I started reading everything.  

Old books I particularly enjoyed, page-turning psychological thrillers and engrossed myself in different worlds in the fantasy realm.  

If I was not enjoying a book, I would put it back on my shelf with grace instead of treating it like a punishment and forcing myself to finish it.  

After years of struggling, I had re-discovered my joy and discipline for reading and was able to balance what I wanted to read and what I had to read for book club.  

But in the past few months these habits have fallen to the wayside.  

On a recent trip to England, I only picked up one book for myself and another for a friend because what was the point of buying books if I was not going to read them anyway.  

It might be a lack of routine, a busy mind, or I just needed a little break but I’m hoping that the colder weather and longer nights might just be what entices me to get back into a good novel.  

I’m also intrigued by a couple of talks held by fiction authors at this year’s Gibraltar Gibunco Literary Festival which may guide my path back to reading once again.