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Bookish Acts of Self-Love: Romanticizing My Everyday Life
- Theresa Wilson
- 9 hours ago
- 5 min read
Dear Reader,
For a long time, I believed self-love had to be loud to count. It had to be visible, measurable, impressive. Big changes. Big breakthroughs. Big declarations of growth. Quiet care didn’t seem like enough. Slowing down felt indulgent. Rest felt undeserved. And choosing softness—especially for myself—felt like something I had to earn.
Over time, that belief has softened.
I’ve learned that the self-love that actually sustains me doesn’t arrive in grand gestures. It shows up in repetition. In routine. In the moments I choose myself again and again without announcing it. It lives in the everyday—in the way I end my nights, the stories I return to, and the rituals I rely on when the world feels heavy.
Romanticizing my everyday life isn’t about pretending things are perfect. It’s about noticing what already brings me comfort and choosing to treat those moments as meaningful. It’s about letting ordinary days feel worthy of care. And more often than not, books are at the center of that choice.
Seeing the Everyday Through a Bookish Lens
Some of my most meaningful acts of self-love are deeply bookish, even when they don’t involve reading in the traditional sense. One of my favorite routines is creating tiny books using foam and stickers—small, tangible representations of the stories I’ve experienced. Each completed book gets placed into a jar, and at the end of the year, they’re turned into an ornament.
It’s a quiet tradition, but one that means more to me than I ever expected. It turns my reading life into something visible. Something celebratory. It reminds me that the hours I spent immersed in stories mattered—that they weren’t wasted time or escapism, but lived experiences that shaped my days.
I also take time to choose favorite quotes and write down my thoughts as I read. Every thought. The emotional reactions, the frustrations, the moments that made my chest ache or my heart feel full. I don’t censor myself or try to make my reflections sound polished. Letting myself react freely to a book feels like giving myself permission to exist without editing.
Reading itself has always felt like self-love to me. It’s how I turn off my brain and allow myself to fully immerse in another world. Romance, especially, has become my constant. I don’t analyze too deeply whether certain authors or characters affect me—I simply know that returning to love stories brings me comfort. It brings familiarity. It brings hope.
And sometimes, comfort doesn’t need justification. Sometimes, choosing what feels safe and soothing is the most loving thing you can do.
Little Rituals That Feel Luxurious
Self-love also shows up for me in the routines that help me wind down at the end of the day. My skincare routine has become one of those moments—unrushed, familiar, and comforting. It’s a small way of telling myself that the day is done and that I’m allowed to slow down. By the time I’m finished, my mind feels quieter, and I’m ready to settle into the rest of the evening.
When I read, my journal is always nearby. I like knowing that if a thought strikes me mid-chapter, I have a place to put it. Reading doesn’t feel complete without that outlet—it turns the experience into a conversation rather than something passive. It allows me to sit with my reactions and honor how the story made me feel in the moment.
I also create intentional moments by bringing my book with me everywhere. I read during my lunch break at work, carving out a pocket of calm in the middle of the day. I read before bed every single night, letting stories carry me gently into rest. These moments are non-negotiable now. They anchor my days and remind me that no matter how busy life becomes, I still belong to myself.
The sensory side of these rituals matters, too. Lighting my favorite candle—Flannel from Bath & Body Works—wrapping myself in a cozy blanket, sometimes playing instrumental music from a playlist I’ve curated just for reading. Other times, my comfort show plays softly in the background. It’s not about creating an aesthetic moment for anyone else—it’s about creating an environment where I feel safe, relaxed, and at ease.
Letting Rest Be Earned — and Then Learning to Let That Go
Balancing productivity with indulgence and relaxation has taken practice. For a long time, I felt like rest had to be earned. That I needed to prove I’d done enough before I was allowed to slow down. Now, I meet myself halfway.
If I’ve completed my top three tasks for the day, I let go of guilt. I allow myself to read. To unwind. To exist without constantly measuring my worth by how much I’ve accomplished.
Reading, in that sense, becomes both a reward and a reminder. A reward for showing up to the day, and a reminder that I don’t have to be “on” all the time. I don’t need to fill every moment with productivity. I can simply be—and that, too, is enough.
On Self-Love, Growth, and Wanting to Live Again
My understanding of self-love has changed in ways that are hard to fully explain. There was a time when I had no self-love at all. A time when I hated myself, when moving through the days felt heavy, and joy felt distant. It was a difficult season of my life—one I don’t romanticize—but one that shaped who I am now.
Over the years, I’ve worked intentionally to rebuild my relationship with myself. Slowly. Unevenly. With patience, I didn’t always think I had. I’ve tried to make my life feel interesting, comforting, and worth staying present for.
Books played a massive role in that shift. Reading was one of the reasons I wanted to live again. Stories reminded me that feelings change, that softness is not weakness, and that hope can exist even in quiet forms. Through fictional lives and imagined love stories, I found pieces of myself worth holding onto.
If I could give my younger self one piece of advice, it would be this: let yourself enjoy things fully. Don’t shrink your reactions to make others comfortable. Don’t hide your joy. Don’t stifle yourself just to take up less space. You are allowed to feel deeply—especially about the things you love.
Dear Reader,
What are the small rituals you return to when you need comfort? The ones that don’t look impressive, but feel grounding. The moments you protect without always realizing why.
Maybe they’re already part of your day—quiet, familiar, waiting to be noticed. And maybe noticing them is its own kind of care.
Romanticizing your everyday life doesn’t require a complete overhaul. Sometimes it’s as simple as opening a book, slowing your breathing, or choosing yourself in quiet ways. These bookish acts of self-love may seem small, but over time, they build a life that feels warm, intentional, and deeply yours.
May your heart stay warm, your pages stay full, and I’ll meet you in the next chapter.
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