When I say books saved my life I’m not trying to be dramatic or convince others to read. I mean that during my darkest and hardest times, the times when I felt alone and couldn’t muster the words to reach out to others, I had books.

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A little backstory: During my junior year of high school, one of the toughest years of my life thus far (although I acknowledge that many people have had it way worse), I lost three of my dogs and went through an awful breakup that left me very self conscious and feeling very badly about myself. Over the summer, I met a cute boy who made me feel better, sort of a band-aid on all of my personal issues, until he went back to college in the fall and dropped off the face of the earth. To say the least, being completely ignored (we now use the term “ghosted”) was not at all good for my already shaky and bleak sense of self worth.

 

Enter: Books, exactly 52 of them.

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During high school I had some friends, but I mostly spent time alone. I went to band or musical practice and then would go home to read and do homework. When my loneliness became too much to bear I turned to books. During my senior year of high school alone I read 52 books. I don’t have a page count, but that’s a lot of books. Immersing myself in other people’s stories made me forget about my loneliness. Without these stories, I don’t know what sort of self destructive path I would have gone down.

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Reading about confident heros and heroines helped me build confidence in myself. I related to the characters and saw traits that I too held, whether that be in looks or within. I also learned a lot from reading about different people in different places. During that year I tried to read a lot of classic novels, such as “Frankenstein” and “Pride and Prejudice,” and also international books, such as  “In the Time of the Butterflies” that takes place in the Dominican Republic and “How Green Was My Valley” that takes place in Wales. These stories allowed me to become more empathetic and made me feel something. After experiencing so much sadness and hurt, it was a wonderful feeling to be immersed in a story and to feel the emotions of those people. Finishing books also made me feel accomplished as I added each one to my list of books I’ve read.

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Reading also lends well to writing. Writing has always been a passion of mine, and being able to put my spiraling thoughts to paper (or computer) is very therapeutic for me. I wrote letters to those boys who hurt me and never sent them, but it was a way to get the anger and swirl of emotions out of me. Without that means of expression I doubt I would be as healed as I am today.

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As I enter my senior year of college, I’ve been thinking a lot about how much I’ve grown since I was entering my senior year of high school. I am so thankful for books. I am truly lucky to have gone to a high school with a large library, have a large public library, and also a good sized home library that my mother has put together. The world beyond college seems scary, but I know that my favorite stories, whether that be Harry Potter or a Wrinkle in Time, are always within reach if I need to escape for a little bit.

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Lastly, I would like to point out that if you are ever seriously depressed, anxious or suffer from any other serious mental health issue, it is best to share that with others. I wish high school me would have realized that it isn’t a weakness to share your problems with those you trust or mental health professionals.

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So to books: Thank you for being there for me when I needed you most.