I sat there again today, staring at the book I’ve been reading for weeks. And, once again, I didn’t open it. Why is that?
Then I realized starting a book isn’t just about reading. It’s about overcoming all the little resistances life throws at you.
First, there’s distraction. My phone buzzes, the fridge hums, there’s always something demanding my attention. Then there’s mental energy. Reading isn’t passive like scrolling; it takes focus. And let’s be honest: after a long day, it’s easier to open YouTube than a novel.
There’s also this odd intimidation. Books can feel like a commitment—like I’m signing up for a long journey I’m not sure I have time for. And sometimes, with so many great options, choosing becomes another obstacle. Paralysis by abundance.
But the truth is, reading just takes a nudge. Set a 15-minute timer. Pick up something short. Let your brain breathe in that quiet. It doesn’t have to be perfect or productive. It just has to start.
And maybe tomorrow, I will open that book.