You know, there are people out there that ask me this. “Why do you read so much?” Honestly, my question is why don’t YOU?
In my opinion books are works of art. Art that needs to be experienced. Someone has taken the letters of the alphabet and turned them in to pages and pages of life. They create stories of love and happiness, of travels and so much more. Authors form their works of art for people to enjoy, not for books to just to sit on a shelf in a library.
I cherish my good reads and want to share them with the world, as they should be enjoyed!
I also think that reading is a way to travel while sitting still. You go to different states, countries, galaxies even. You meet characters you love, some you hate and some you love to hate.
My life isn’t perfect, there are days that I just can’t take the real world outside of the pages of my book. Having anxiety and depression and trying live a “normal” life sometimes leaves you exhausted. My way of recovery is books. Reading takes my mind off of my fears, worries, sadness.
So that’s why I read. I read to admire, enjoy, to escape, to find happiness.
Anxiety and depression is no joke! Having both, it is like living in a cave. I just recently crossed over to the medicated side of life and honestly you don’t realize how bad off you were until you are medicated.
Before, I did not realize how depressed I was. When my doctor asked me if I had depression, I told her “I don’t think so” and boy I was in denial. Today my husband commented on how happy I seemed. I truly am. I feel like my life is finally MY life. I am not hiding any more.
I have came across people who say they don’t believe that anxiety and depression is real. They say that people only want attention. Let me tell you, I want anything but attention. I just want to live my life to the fullest. I hate that I let it go as far as I did.
It was so bad that I would be on lunch at work, in my car having a panic attack. It felt like I had a ton of bricks just sitting on my lungs. Trying to go back inside of the building after an hour and pretending everything was well was not an easy task.
As a child, I remember having panic attacks and having high anxiety about social interactions. However, the depression, didn’t hit until I had post partum depression. I remember how happy with life I was prior to having PPD and then after it was a turning point of sorts.
Once my husband became sick and was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure, that’s when I knew I had to get help. Everything hit me all at once and the stress of his illness, work, and motherhood was just too much to bear.
If you are suffering, please know that you are not alone in this. There are millions of people just like you, that are most likely hiding the fact they are going through this internal battle. Also, there is help out there and it is okay to have to go to that. If you are truly suffering, trust me, it will change your life!