Sian Ferguson is a freelance writer and journalist based in Grahamstown, South Africa. Her writing covers issues relating to social justice and health. You can reach out to her on Twitter.
For a long time, I was a self-professed bookworm. Until suddenly, I wasn’t.
Throughout school, I was a bookish child. You know, the kind who loved the library and devoured a book a day whenever they had the chance. Reading and writing were so important to my identity that I couldn’t imagine a day going by without peering at a book.
When I went to university, things changed. I had less time to read for pleasure and was inundated with academic reading. The last thing I wanted to do was stare at more words.
My mental health started failing around the same time my love for reading did, but it took me a long time to notice the difference between the two. The joy reading always brought me slipped through my fingers. Nothing brought me much joy when I was in a depressive state; everything was too much effort with too little payoff.
As university progressed, I collected more traumatic events than course credits, and my mental health got worse. Eventually, I received a diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and I dropped out.
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