On entering a reading slump (and bouncing back)

We’ve all been there, right?

I love to read. Obviously.

I average about one book a week, sometimes more and sometimes less. But reading has been one of the most consistent things I’ve done in the past few years. I’m very proud of this.

I can’t believe I wasted so many years not reading. What was I even doing to fill my time? How many stories and characters had I missed out on?

So I was… scared when I hit a recent reading slump. Was this the end?

I want to emphasize here that I’m not being dramatic. I’ve had slumps of a few days here and there. I’d finish a particularly amazing book, wonder what could possibly compare, and go on aimlessly for a bit until I found my next read.

But this drought was different. I spoke a little bit about it in my last book review, since the beginning of the end for me was The Women by Kristin Hannah.

This book was beautiful. It was important. And it was HEAVY. It gave me every feeling of “well every other read is pointless where do I go from here” that I had gotten before. But another element came into play.

The flu.

I don’t know where I got it. I don’t know who gave it to me. But it was terrible and I hated it.

Three full days of a fever, not being able to sleep or generally move, followed by congestion and coughing and zero energy. My big event of the day would be walking to the mailbox to get the mail, and stumbling back into the house exhausted and ready to sleep some more. I’m still not up to my usual productivity level.

Both of these hits took me out of the reading running and sent me into a Netflix and Instagram spiral. I could barely lift my arm to pick up a book, so instead I’d exist horizontal on the couch and watch a screen play out in front of me for hours.

There are several days after the flu when you feel better, but no one wants to be around you still, and this would have been the perfect time to start a new easy read, or catch up on my Substack. But there was no motivation for either.

Maybe after I went back to work I’d feel better? Nope. Nothing sounded appealing. Besides, I needed to weed and clean and basically do anything other than sit and enjoy a new story, right?

This is when I began to think, do I just not like reading anymore? It’s over just like that? Was this just another phase, like that time I got into making textured art for four months, and then when my Etsy shop didn’t immediately blow up with orders I moved on? (My expectations of my new artistic-ness were much too high, I know.)

The thought made me sad. But I reminded myself that I’m a human. I’m allowed to change. I don’t have to decide who I am one day and stick to it the rest of my life.

In fact that’s the beautiful part about being human. We evolve. There can be years when we are obsessed with coffee. And then one day we can switch to tea and open a new door of learning, experimenting, and deciding what we like again.

So I gave in. And that’s exactly what I needed. If I suddenly wasn’t a reader anymore, I wasn’t going to force it. I am a human. And I am allowed to change.

This lasted for about another week.

And then the reading drought subsided.

I just needed to give myself space to continue to recover- mentally from a book that hit hard, and physically from the flu that, for about 48 hours, I thought would be the end of me. I got back to my TBR list. I got back to writing. I remembered my life isn’t all or nothing. I don’t have to call things finished right away, I can just set them aside and come back later. I was also reminded that endless hours of TV and social media zap creative strength, and once I detoxed from them for a bit I felt myself again.

So anyway this is me giving you permission to give in to whatever slump you’re feeling. It’s okay to step away for a minute. You’ll be back before anyone even realizes you’re gone.

And most importantly, I’m back to reading three different books simultaneously again. So my slump is officially dead.