Why Reading Became My Favorite Hobby Again

Theresa Wilson
Aug 1
14 min read

– and how stories helped bring me back to life –

There was a time when reading was effortless. I was never without a book—toting one around in my bag, flipping pages late at night, getting utterly lost in fictional worlds. Books were my comfort, my escape, and my favorite way to understand the world.

But between 2017 and 2020, I drifted.

Those years were hard. I wanted to read—I missed reading—but I couldn’t connect. I’d start books only to abandon them. I bought more than I ever finished. And worst of all, I felt disconnected from the version of myself who once found so much joy in stories.

Stack of colorful books next to potted succulents on a shelf. Background green wall with text: "Reading isn’t just a hobby—it’s a lifeline."

Then came 2019, which—for me—was one of the lowest points in my life. I was stuck in a bad mental place, struggling to pull myself out, and feeling like I had lost all the parts of me that made me feel whole. I entered 2020 emotionally worn down, unsure how to rebuild.

And then… the world stopped.

In 2020, I wasn’t working. The world had slowed down, and so had I. After a tough 2019 that had left me emotionally depleted, I found myself stuck in a place I never imagined I’d be: completely dependent on my parents — financially, emotionally, physically. I live with them still (because, let’s be honest, it’s more affordable), but back then, it felt different. I wasn’t just living at home — I was leaning on home, trying to heal in an environment that was both familiar and humbling.

I was unmoored, floating through the days, unsure of how to feel anything again — or if I even could. I wasn’t well. I wasn’t “okay.” And yet, somewhere in all that stillness and uncertainty, something started to shift.

That’s when reading found me again.

It started quietly — a book here, a story there — until suddenly, I realized I was devouring chapters late into the night, curled up in bed, lost in fictional worlds that felt more alive than my own. Reading didn’t just fill the hours — it helped me feel again. Joy. Curiosity. Escape. Hope.

Reading gave me a rhythm when I had none. It offered characters who were broken but healing. Stories with messy, hopeful endings. It reminded me that transformation takes time. That rest is not the same as failure. And that sometimes, the slow act of turning pages can bring you back to life — one chapter at a time.

Losing My Love of Reading (2017–2020)

From around 2017 to 2020, reading felt like a distant memory rather than a daily habit. It wasn’t for lack of trying—I still bought books regularly, collected new releases, and scrolled through bookish communities online, craving that spark I once had. I wanted to read. I wanted to lose myself in stories again. But no matter how many books I purchased or how many “perfect” TBR lists I made, I couldn’t seem to settle into a book the way I used to.

My TBR pile kept growing taller, gathering dust on shelves and nightstands, while my attention span shrank. It felt like the world was speeding up all around me, and I was losing my grip. Life had become busy, noisy, and unpredictable. Between work, social commitments, and the constant buzz of digital distractions, I felt stretched thin. Reading — which used to be my refuge — now felt like an impossible task.

Cozy scene with an open book, scissors, a steaming coffee cup on a wooden board, leaves, and a burlap cloth on a cream fabric. Calm vibe.

But the hardest part wasn’t the lack of time or focus; it was the emotional weight that came with it. It was the feeling of losing a part of myself. I missed that version of me—the one who could disappear into a book for hours, who found solace and joy in turning pages, who eagerly anticipated the next story. I mourned the distance that had grown between me and reading.

I found myself romanticizing the idea of reading more than actually doing it. I’d imagine what it would feel like to curl up with a new novel, but when I tried, I often ended up distracted or discouraged. Starting a book became a chore. I’d put it down after a few pages, sometimes for weeks, and then move on to something else, hoping that next book might finally pull me in.

And with this came a heavy sense of guilt. Guilt over the books left unfinished. Guilt over series I abandoned halfway through. Guilt over not being the “reader” I believed I was—or wanted to be. I began to question if I even deserved to call myself a reader anymore.

This guilt made it even harder to pick up a book. It was a vicious cycle: I wanted to read but felt like I wasn’t good at it anymore, so I avoided reading altogether.

Looking back, I realize it wasn’t just about reading; it was about losing a connection to a part of myself during a period of uncertainty and inner struggle. The years from 2017 to 2020 were, in many ways, a slow drifting away—not just from books, but from the joy and calm they once brought me.

And then, everything changed.

The Shift in 2020: Leaning on Home and Finding My Way Back Through Reading

Then came 2020—a year unlike any other, a global pause that brought stillness after years of nonstop motion. For the first time in a long while, everything slowed down, and I found myself with a lot more time than I knew what to do with. After a difficult 2019, when my mental health was at a low and I was fighting to just get through each day, I found myself completely dependent on my parents. Although I still live with them now because it’s practical and affordable, back then that dependence felt heavier. It wasn’t just living at home—it was needing their support in a way that felt vulnerable and unfamiliar.

My usual routines and independence were stripped away, and suddenly my world felt small and uncertain. I wasn’t working, I wasn’t going out, and much of my day was spent trying to heal and figure out how to move forward. The future felt fuzzy, and my confidence was low. I wrestled with feelings of frustration, isolation, and self-doubt.

In the quiet of my parents’ home, I felt both safe and stuck. It was a paradox—this place that was supposed to be comforting sometimes felt like a reminder of where I was, not where I wanted to be. But it was also where I was given the space to rest and rebuild.

During that time, reading gently found its way back into my life—not as a task or a goal, but as a comforting lifeline. It began in small, quiet moments: opening a book during a lazy afternoon, getting lost in a chapter before bed, or flipping through pages while sipping tea in the stillness of the morning. One book that especially stood out was Sophie’s Choice by A.M. Westerling, a Canadian author. Her story reminded me how much I had been missing—not just in books, but in myself. It was a subtle yet powerful reminder of why stories matter and helped draw me back when I needed it most.

Text: "Between the pages of a book is a lovely place to be" in brown, framed by green leaves on a cream background. Calm and inviting.

Alongside that, a few romance novels truly reignited my passion for reading. Den of Vipers by K.A. Knight, Fix Her Up by Tessa Bailey, and When a Scot Ties the Knot by Tessa Dare—all spanning different romance subgenres—brought excitement, warmth, and comfort. These books reminded me why I fell in love with stories in the first place and led me deeper into a romance reading space that continues to bring me joy today.

Reading became a form of self-care—a way to create calm when everything else felt chaotic. It gave me a refuge from swirling thoughts and worries, a soft space where I could rest my mind and emotions. The stories I read offered more than escape; they offered connection, hope, and reassurance. Characters who struggled but kept going, worlds that held beauty and kindness even in hard times, narratives that whispered: you’re not alone.

Each page turned was a small step toward reclaiming myself. It wasn’t an instant transformation. There was no sudden flood of motivation or joy. Instead, it was a slow rebuilding of trust—trust in stories, trust in myself, trust that I could find my way back to the parts of me I thought were lost.

Even now, years later, that slow return to reading remains one of my greatest sources of comfort and grounding. It’s a reminder that healing isn’t a straight line, but a journey made up of many small, meaningful moments—moments that can start simply with picking up a book and allowing yourself to feel again.

✨ Rebuilding a Reading Life from the Ground Up

This wasn’t a magical overnight recovery. It was slow, intentional, and deeply personal. But over time, I

Stack of colorful books beside two potted succulents on a shelf. Green wall backdrop with quote: "Reading isn’t just a hobby—it’s a lifeline."

fell back in love with reading—and with myself, too. Rebuilding my reading life became a journey of rediscovery, patience, and self-compassion, reminding me that it’s okay for reading to look different at every stage of life.

Here’s what made the biggest difference for me:

1. Letting Go of Pressure

For years, I carried so much guilt about unread books and unfinished series. I felt like I was failing as a reader because I couldn’t keep up or finish what I started. But learning to give myself permission to DNF (did not finish) books that didn’t resonate was liberating. I stopped forcing myself to power through books just for the sake of it. Instead, I started rereading old favorites that brought me comfort and joy, and I allowed myself to read slowly—savoring each page without rushing. This shift changed reading from a stressful obligation into a joyful, healing experience.

2. Creating Cozy Rituals

Reading became more than just words on a page—it became a ritual of self-care. I found comfort in small routines like wrapping myself in a soft blanket, brewing a warm cup of tea, lighting a favorite candle, and playing gentle lo-fi music in the background. These simple sensory moments helped me create a cozy atmosphere that made reading feel safe and inviting. Turning reading into a mindful ritual helped me slow down and reconnect not only with stories but also with myself, one peaceful moment at a time.

3. Following My Mood

I stopped worrying about what I should be reading or what was trendy or critically acclaimed. Instead, I let my mood guide me. Some days I craved cozy romances, other days atmospheric mysteries or seasonal books that perfectly matched the time of year. Following my intuition brought back the excitement and anticipation I’d been missing. It made reading feel personal and authentic again—something I looked forward to, rather than something I pressured myself to do.

4. Choosing Connection Over Perfection

I stopped measuring my reading success by numbers, speed, or how many books I finished each month. Instead, I focused on how the books made me feel. Did they bring comfort? Did they spark curiosity or make me laugh? Reading became about emotional connection and rediscovering the parts of myself that reading had always nurtured. This shift helped me rebuild my love for books on my own terms, without judgment or unrealistic expectations.

What Reading Has Taught Me (Even When It’s Hard)

Reading has been so much more than just a pastime—it has become a patient teacher and a quiet guide through some of the toughest and most confusing moments in my life. Through stories, I’ve learned patience—not just with the plots or characters, but with myself. Healing and joy aren’t instant; they don’t arrive in grand gestures or overnight fixes. Instead, they come slowly, gently, in small steps. Books have helped me see that it’s okay for progress to be slow, for emotions to be messy, and for setbacks to happen along the way.

Books have also opened my heart to empathy in ways I didn’t expect. Through characters’ joys, struggles, and triumphs, I’ve walked in shoes vastly different from my own, which has broadened my understanding of the world and deepened my compassion. These stories remind me that everyone has battles we can’t always see, and that kindness—both toward others and ourselves—is essential.

Perhaps most importantly, reading has taught me the value of stillness. In a world that often feels noisy and fast-paced, carving out moments to breathe, reflect, and simply be present has become vital. Sitting down with a book is a form of meditation for me—a chance to pause, reset, and reconnect with my inner self.

But I also want to be honest: the reading journey isn’t always smooth. Even now, I face days when my focus slips away, motivation dwindles, or life’s responsibilities pull me far from the books I love. Sometimes, I struggle to settle into a story, and other times, the mental space just isn’t there. These ebbs and flows are part of the real experience—the dance between passion and pause, commitment and rest.

And that’s perfectly okay. It doesn’t mean the love of reading has faded or disappeared. Instead, it means the journey is ongoing, evolving, and adapting with me. It’s a reminder to be gentle with myself and trust that I’ll find my way back whenever I’m ready.

💗 Why Reading Is Still My Favorite Hobby

Books are patient.

They wait for us, quietly and unwaveringly, even when life pulls us away for months or even years. They don’t rush us or judge us for taking breaks. And when we’re ready—truly ready—they open their pages wide and welcome us back like old friends, with warmth and understanding.

For me, reading has become a beautiful reminder that returning to something you love can be just as meaningful, sometimes even more so, than discovering it for the very first time. It’s taught me that hobbies, like life itself, ebb and flow. There are seasons when our passions dim, and seasons when they reignite with new light. And that’s okay.

Reading has shown me that joy isn’t always loud or fast—it can be quiet, slow, and gentle. It can come back in small moments of peace, tucked between the noise of daily life. It can look different than it did before, and still be deeply fulfilling.

These days, I don’t measure my reading life by the number of books I finish or the speed at which I devour them. Instead, I measure it by the softness it brings to my everyday routine—the way it offers me calm during busy days, the way it stretches my imagination and lets me dream beyond my current reality. I measure it by the comfort of curling up with a good story, by the anticipation I feel when I pick up a new book, and by the bittersweet satisfaction of closing the final page of a book that felt like a friend.

Reading has become more than a hobby; it’s a form of self-care and connection. It’s a way to slow down, to breathe, and to remember who I am beneath the noise and rush of life. It reminds me that I can hold space for joy, even on the hardest days.

So yes—reading is my favorite hobby again.

But this time, I’m holding onto it more gently, more intentionally, and with a deeper sense of gratitude and joy than ever before. It’s no longer just about the books themselves, but about the way they help me reconnect—with stories, with myself, and with the quiet magic of everyday moments.

And that makes all the difference.

🎂 My Bookish Birthday Month

Now, five years later, here I am—still reading, still healing, still growing. What began as a quiet, fragile rediscovery of reading during one of my darkest times has blossomed into something much bigger: a deep, ongoing love for stories and the comfort they bring. This August, I’m not just celebrating my birthday. I’m celebrating what I like to call my bookish birthday—the month I truly reclaimed my love of reading and began honoring the version of me that fought her way back from the brink.

This special month is a tribute to that journey, and to the power of books to heal, inspire, and transform us. It’s a time for reflection, celebration, and sharing the stories that have shaped me—both on and off the page.

All month long on the blog, I’ll be sharing a series of posts that dive deep into my reading life: from the cherished childhood favorites that sparked my earliest love of books, to the guilty pleasures and unpopular opinions I hold today, from the evolution of my tastes as I’ve grown older, to the romance novels that have become my safe haven.

I’ll also be reflecting on a full decade—the highs, the lows, and the transformations that have marked my twenties—and sharing a birthday book haul of the new titles I’m adding to my ever-growing TBR this year.

Here’s a glimpse of what’s coming this August for my Bookish Birthday Month:

📚 My Reading Confessions: Guilty Pleasures and Unpopular Opinions; A candid look at my reading habits, the genres I secretly enjoy, and the little quirks and guilty pleasures that make my reading life uniquely mine.

📚 The Evolution of My Reading Taste: From Childhood to Adulthood; Tracing the winding path of how my reading preferences have changed—and stayed the same—over the years, revealing the stories that have stayed with me.

📚 How I Explore Different Worlds Within Romance: My Favorite Subgenres and Tropes; A dive into the romance subgenres and tropes that have captured my heart and why they keep me coming back for more.

📚 What Being a Romance Reader Has Taught Me About Life and Love; Reflecting on the life lessons and emotional insights I’ve gained through my romance reading journey.

📚 My Romance Reading Journey: From Sweet to Steamy and Everything In Between; Exploring the romance novels that have brought me comfort, excitement, and joy—and why this genre holds a special place in my heart.

📚 A Decade in Review: Highlights, Challenges, and Transformations of My 20’s; Reflecting on a pivotal decade of life, love, loss, and growth, and how reading has been woven through every step of the journey.

📚 Returning to Love: How Romance Books Became My Safe Space (And Why I Keep Re-Reading Them); A heartfelt post about the special role romance novels have played in my healing process—and why I keep revisiting them when life feels overwhelming.

📚 📚 My Reading Year So Far: Monthly Stats & Favorites; A mid-year check-in on my 2025 reading journey—complete with monthly breakdowns, standout reads, and what’s surprising me so far.

Each post is a little celebration of how far I’ve come, a reminder of the healing power of stories, and an invitation for you to join me in rediscovering the joy of reading—no matter where you are on your own journey.

So here’s to my bookish birthday month—a time to reflect, to dream, and to share the love of books that has been a steady light through my darkest times and brightest days.

I can’t wait to share it all with you.

Finding Your Own Reading Joy

If you’re still on the journey to rediscover reading—or maybe you’re trying to figure out what kinds of books truly light you up—I want to gently remind you that there is no single “right” way to do it. Your reading life is uniquely yours, and it’s meant to fit you, not anyone else’s expectations.

It’s absolutely okay to experiment and explore. Maybe one day you want to dive into a lighthearted romance full of warmth and laughter, and the next, you crave a gripping mystery that keeps you turning pages late into the night. Perhaps some weeks you read voraciously, while other times you only manage a few pages here and there—and that’s perfectly fine. You might find joy in revisiting old favorites that feel like comfort food for the soul, or discover new authors and genres that surprise and delight you.

Reading doesn’t have to be a race, a challenge, or a checklist. It’s a personal adventure—one that can be deeply nurturing and healing. Whether you’re flipping through a magazine during a quiet moment, savoring a chapter before bed, or binge-reading a whole series over a weekend, what truly matters is how reading makes you feel.

When you focus on what brings you joy, reading becomes more than just a hobby. It becomes a way to care for yourself, to escape when you need to, and to reconnect with your imagination and emotions. So give yourself permission to read in whatever way feels right for you—without guilt, pressure, or expectations.

Your reading journey is yours alone, and it’s perfectly okay to take it at your own pace, in your own style. The stories that speak to your heart are waiting, ready to welcome you back whenever you’re ready to turn the page.

Celebrate Every Step, No Matter How Small

If you’re finding your way back to reading, or simply trying to make space for it in your life, remember: every little moment counts. Even if it’s just five minutes between tasks, a single chapter before bed, or flipping through a few pages with your morning coffee—these small wins matter. They add up, building a gentle bridge back to joy and connection.

Be kind to yourself. Celebrate each step forward, no matter how small. Your reading journey is uniquely yours, and it’s okay to move at your own pace.

💬 Let’s Chat

If you’ve ever been through a long reading slump—or if you’re still navigating one right now—I want you to know: I see you, and you are not alone. Whether you’re slowly inching your way back to books or haven’t opened one in what feels like forever, there’s truly no wrong way to return. Books are patient companions, waiting quietly until you’re ready to dive back in.

I’d love to hear from you. What helped you reconnect with reading after a slump? Or, if you’re still feeling stuck, what do you think is standing in your way right now? Maybe it’s lack of time, motivation, or just not knowing where to start. Let’s open up the conversation in the comments below—I’m here to listen, support, and share ideas.

And if you want to join me for a full month of cozy, bookish reflections, including reading confessions, favorite genres, and a special birthday book haul, don’t forget to subscribe to my Wanderletters. It’s the best way to make sure you never miss a post and to receive little doses of literary inspiration straight to your inbox. If you want to peek into my day-to-day reading life, cozy book stacks, and little behind-the-scenes moments, you can find me over on Instagram and YouTube. I love sharing bookish content and connecting with fellow readers there, so come say hi!

Thank you for reading, for being part of this journey, and for sharing in the love of stories—wherever you are in yours.

Until next time—For the love of cozy escapes, culture, and curiosity, find your next escape.