Hello my loves, I am here today to chat about something I guess all of us book bloggers, bookstagrammers, booktubers and bookworms could probably relate to. The addiction of buying books. Now while this might seem like a fun little chat, this one for me is a little more serious. It is about real addiction. I am going to try to be as coherent as I can in this post, but as it is something so personal, something that I have not written about before on my blog, please bear with me if it gets a little of course or I start to ramble.
I guess we should start at the beginning. I’ve struggled on and off with anxiety and depression since I was very young. So much so that I have been medicated for almost half of my life. Now while I haven’t been medicated for some time, I do not pretend that I am ‘okay’. As a child I experienced a few traumatic things and due to having only a small number of close friends, I used isolation as a way of feeling better and ‘protecting’ myself. This is something that I still do to this day. Relying often on books as they are much less likely to let you down that human beings.
I suppose you could say I’ve always had an addictive personality. Whether that be with food, or something else. I can quite easily find myself repeating the same behaviours over and over again. Please do not confuse this with OCD and please remember that I am not a mental health specialist and what I am talking about here are purely my own experiences.
Books have always been a huge part of my life. When I was very young my parents used to read bedtime stories to me until I could read myself and then I would read them. From then on you would usually find me surrounded by books. They became a great source of comfort for me when things were tough, which they were fairly regularly.
I think in a way I became emotionally dependant on the books that I was reading, regardless of the book, it became a way for me to forget everything for a time and just escape. Now reading has always been hailed as one of the best forms of escapism, and something that is very beneficial, in more ways than one. I guess what I’m getting at here is when does it become a problem?
I’ll give you the last 6 weeks as an example. They’ve been some of my best reading weeks and I’ve read much more than I expected to. On the flip side of that, I’ve actually bought close to 40 books, most of which came from a local independent bookstore (so were full price). I get such a thrill when I buy new books, and feel immediate guilt afterwards. I find myself compulsively buying them, even when I know I can’t really afford it. There is something inside me that doesn’t care if I don’t have the space, or the money, for the books. A lot of the time I feel out of control. I buy and I’m ecstatic. I think about how much I’ve spent and how I promised I wouldn’t buy anymore for a while (because I such a long TBR) and I feel sick to my stomach.
I guess I rely emotionally on books. To the point where it is become problematic and is beginning to effect other aspects of my life. Like I said in the beginning, this is a very personal post for me. It’s not something I’ve ever done before. I would love to hear your thoughts on what I’ve chatted about today, but please try to be kind with me.
Peace and pages