Reading as Survival

I read the way some people breathe.

When life feels loud or overwhelming, I reach for a book. When I’m anxious, overstimulated, or exhausted from managing a household and a million invisible responsibilities, I read. Not to escape reality entirely - but to soften it.

Reading has been my coping mechanism long before I knew what coping mechanisms were.

There are books on every surface of my house. Stacks beside the bed. Shelves that are long past full. A Kindle that goes everywhere with me because sometimes reading one handed in the dark is all the quiet I get. I love physical books - the weight, the dog-eared pages, the margins filled with underlined sentences - but I also love the practicality of digital reading in a busy life.

Reading looks different now than it did before motherhood. I don’t always get long, uninterrupted stretches. Sometimes it’s ten minutes before bed. Sometimes it’s a chapter while dinner cooks. Sometimes it’s a few pages while my kid talks nonstop beside me.

But it still counts.

I don’t read to be impressive or well rounded. I read because it steadies me. Because stories give shape to feelings I can’t always name. Because books remind me that other people have felt this way too - overwhelmed, uncertain, hopeful, tired.

I don’t believe reading needs to be productive to be valuable. It doesn’t need to teach you something or make you better. Sometimes the value is simply that it got you through the day.

Here, I’ll share what I’m reading, what stuck with me, and what I didn’t finish (because abandoning books is allowed). No pressure to keep up. No performative reading lists. Just honest thoughts from someone who reads because she needs to.

If you’re reading something right now - anything at all - I’d love to know what it is.