In the spirit of trying to be a reflective and self-aware person, I’ve recently wondered why I’ve always been a reader. Beyond the enjoyment of it, the pragmatism, the vanity of wanting to appear smart, why do I read, really? What is perhaps my deepest motivation when I pick up a book? And the answer surprised me.

Anxiety.

I’ve never heard this take before. For me there is an element of reading as a form of learning, to push myself to improve in some area. But I also use it as a form of escape, to stop my brain from thinking and to allow it to be filled with imaginations and worlds from other authors. 

This is partially why I switch often from fiction to non-fiction. I’m able to pick up ideas, grow my empathy through novels, and find moments of respite and calm amidst the chaos of life. 

Books are such a joy, and through audiobooks I’ve found a way to continue reading even when my body doesn’t want to sit still. 

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