The Power of Books

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I don’t like thinking about that first year in bed. My room, which was already small, became smaller, and the darkness, which had always been my tormentor, became my comforter.

Physical pain took up the most space in my life and every day was spent trying to minimize it. There was no making it stop so the question became how could I escape it? How could I put it in a box for an afternoon? An hour? Please God for just a minute?

Books. Books were the answer.

I’m not sure at what point after the concussion words on a page became pain in my eyes, but I do remember friends reading to me in Nepal. They would read me their blog posts, or the Bible, or novels they were working through.

In the states, and hopefully other places too, there are smart phone apps that connect to local libraries and offer free digital copies of audiobooks.

And that was how I spent my days for that first year or more- listening to book after book. Becoming a Pevensie in Narnia or a reluctant guest at Pemberley. Becoming anyone that wasn’t me.

I wanted nothing to do with anything that reminded me of my pain, or useless body, or the heartbreak that was my life. So I stayed away from genres that would bring my personal mystery to the forefront.

Susannah Cahalan’s was the first memoir I listened to.

On one of the many occasions when my mother would climb into bed with me, she told me about Cahalan and the mysterious neurological condition that appeared out of nowhere and upended her life.

“You should listen to her book,” she said.

So I did.

“Brain on Fire” was a gateway to content I didn’t know I needed. Cahalan provided me kinship through words. She didn’t know who I was and I would probably never meet her, but we understood one another.

We both knew what it what it was like to be writers in our twenties, with sharp and creative minds, and then for those minds, and in turn bodies, to suddenly stop working, leaving us confused and bedridden.

Memoirs gave me comfort through shared hardship and the ability to silently commiserate with others in a time where I had no community to speak of. They allowed me to travel deeper into the human experience through stories the likes of which I would probably never hear in person.

They also gave me hope. Hope that one day I too would be well enough to write again. To write enough to fill a whole book and publish it even.

As my life transitioned out of the dark days, so did my reading habits. I started reading with my eyes again. Very slowly at first, only minutes at a time, but eventually in 15-minute-plus spurts.

The first book I completed was “The Smallest Part” by Amy Harmon, an author I discovered during peak escapism days, who remains one of my favorite authors to this day.

I read only fiction at first, nothing too cognitively challenging, but as my cognition returned so did my desire to learn and grow, so I read books like “Self-Compassion” by Kristen Neff and “Boundaries” by Cloud and Townsend.

Eventually my reading journey lead me to spiritually challenging books like Timothy Kellor’s “Walking with God Through Pain and Suffering” that break down different universal and theological theories on suffering, and how to suffer in ways that benefit you, others, and God.

Books continue to be an important part of my life. I devour an average of three books at any given time, some audio, some written. Some for escaping and others for learning.

I’ve been wanting to have a dedicated space to reading material on my website for some time and am pleased to announce the launch of my “Bookshelf” page. There you will find titles that have most impacted me on this brain injury journey.

With this newest launch comes a partnership with Bookshop.org, an online shop that supports indie bookstores with its revenue. Through this affiliation, I will receive a small commission for every book purchased through my storefront or links.

There’s a part of me that’s cringing at telling you about this affiliation. I loathe being part of a society where everyone is selling something, but to survive in this world I too need to generate income. I also don’t want anyone who reads this to feel exploited, so know this: you are under absolutely no obligation to buy any of my recommended books.

OK good. That’s done.

So to sum up, books saved my life and continue to be an integral part of my existence, and I’m pleased for my little corner on the internet to have an alcove just for books!

Happy reading!

Love Always,

Elisa