graphic by kayleigh woltal
I think Penny Lane had it right in Almost Famous when she said, “If you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends.” My version, however, would be to go to the bookstore, because my friends are fictional characters.
Over the last year or so, I have been living less and less in the real world as the days go on. But trust me, it’s a good thing. I’m living within fiction as part of my journey to self-discovery!
My journey began with my mental health. I had suspected that I had panic disorder since I was around 15. After some traumatic events, I began experiencing panic attacks multiple times a day, some triggered by stimuli that reminded me of my trauma and some seemingly out of nowhere. I didn’t have a therapist at the time, so I did what anyone would do and dug through the Google search results to self-diagnose for the time being.
By the time I got a real diagnosis, I had done so much research on my own that I felt like I had a real handle on my situation. I hardly had any random panic attacks anymore and I actually thought I might have somehow “outgrown” the worst parts of it.
I quickly found out that I had actually put blinders on, and was ignoring a very important part of my mental wellness.
For several months, my mind raced every time I left home. If wanted to go grab a coffee on the corner my mind would cycle through thoughts such as “but I’m alone,” “someone can try to kidnap or kill me,” “I can’t listen to music because my earbuds will make me less aware of my surroundings even though I’m only walking one block,” “maybe I just shouldn’t go at all just to be safe,” “I’ll wait until someone can come with me,” “but it might rain later and if there’s a thunderstorm I don’t want to go out because I can get struck by lightning…” You see how that might get tiring.
I thought this was normal. Just my brain’s survival instincts kicking in, albeit prematurely and intensely, but a good thing overall because it was keeping me vigilant and safe.
It wasn’t until I picked up Turtles All the Way Down by John Green that I began to connect the dots. The book follows Aza Holmes, a young girl who struggles with intrusive thoughts and compulsive behaviors regarding a bacteria called C. diff. Aza falls into repetitive thought spirals surrounding C. diff and the deadly infection it can cause, going to extreme measures to make sure she cannot catch it.
As I read, I saw similarities between Aza and myself. I recognized the obsessive thoughts, the compulsive behaviors, the worst case scenarios. Aza taught me that what I was experiencing in my own life wasn’t about survival at all. These thought spirals I was having were doing the opposite: they were killing me.
The panic disorder I thought I learned to tame over the years had become more than I could manage. It was more than a random panic attack here and there. I was turning into an agoraphobic shell of myself and the absolutely terrifying part is that I didn’t even realize it was happening until I read about it in a fictional character. It took an outside perspective to see that I needed help.
It was then that I realized that I can learn a lot about myself from fiction — In addition to therapy, of course. If someone else is going to put everything into words for me, then maybe that can help with my self-discovery.
The pandemic had sent me, like many others, into a bit of an identity crisis. I had a lot of time to think about who I was and who I wanted to be while in quarantine, and it seemed to have awoken some major parts of my identity that I had been suppressing. I had been trying to explore every new facet of myself, but the random Google searches just weren’t doing it for me.
So, after my whole “wow I am seriously mentally ill and didn’t know it” fiasco, I decided to put my trust in books for more guidance. And let me tell you, I learned a lot through this process. I continued to find fictional characters that I felt I could deeply relate to and felt more self-aware and far less alone.
My confidence soared when I no longer felt so lonely with my own thoughts, fears, hopes and feelings.
I learned not to hide the parts of myself that made me different from Charlie Winshaw, who refused to sacrifice his own happiness to fit others’ mold (The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun). I was reminded of how much I missed using poetry and creativity to cope by Sam McAllister, who found a home in Poet’s Corner (Every Last Word by Tamara Ireland Stone). And I learned to be patient with myself on the bad days from Wesley Koehler, who tried his best not to let his anxiety keep him from life’s adventures (Twice Shy by Sarah Hogle).
I know I often live in fiction, but the characters I see myself in always pull me out of the darkest days, and I am not ashamed of running to them when I’m feeling lost or lonely. I go to the bookstore, visit old friends in familiar pages and find further comfort in new ones.