Im Telling the Truth, But I'm Lying (after Bassey Ikpi)
Throughout my entire life, there have been periods, sometimes year-long periods, where I don’t do much reading. No books, no magazines, no newspaper articles- nothing. Usually, those intervals are directly connected to how my mental health is doing at the time. One could argue that it makes sense to read more often when I have my worst mental health days. Getting submerged into a world that isn’t my own does sound like an amazing way to self medicate my depression. However, my flare-ups manifest themselves as an inability to focus on anything for a long period of time - least of all, books. I can not successfully absorb new information when everything in me is exhausted from simply trying to get through each day without succumbing to the sinking void caged between my ribs. It SUCKS. More intensely, it is embarrassing, and it makes me feel like such a fraud. I mean, what kind of writer goes years without reaching the end of a single novel? A Hero's Memoir Until a few week...