#finding joy again

A smile became an interrogation. Happiness required a reason.

When I explained myself, the explanation was doubted. When I named the joy, it was called a lie.

Eventually, the smile learned to disappear before it was noticed.

Now that I’m 24, done with uni and have been working for the last six months, I feel like I’ve missed out on so much.

I used to devour a book a day in school. I used to live inside stories. And now I feel like I’m missing something essential.

So please — help me!

Suggest things I can get lost in again. Stories that are consuming. That make life feel big and dramatic and magical and worth living. The kind that make you feel 16 again in the best way.

I want this to turn into a list — not just for me, but for anyone else coming out of their reading slumber and trying to find new fandoms to fall into. If you’re rebuilding your reading life too, this can be our masterpost.

My last favorite books/series were:

Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

The Shadowhunter Chronicles by Cassandra Clare

Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard

Legend by Marie Lu

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

The Folk of the Air by Holly Black

I feel like a young kid exploring hobbies and opportunities again even though my hair is sprouting some gray strands

Reflections in Light — A Serenity Script Series There is something steady about the quiet — the kind that returns when life feels overwhelming and we need a softer place to land.Beatrix Potter understood that kind of quiet. Born into a strict Victorian home, she spent much of her early life in solitude. Yet within that stillness, she learned to pay attention — to the countryside, to small…

Once upon a time books felt like magic. I’d carry one around everywhere like a talisman—tucked under my arm, pages slightly worn, a story waiting just a few sentences away. I used to lose hours in other worlds: castles made of mist, forest paths that whispered secrets, quiet cafes where characters fell in love over dog-eared poetry books. Reading wasn’t a hobby; it was home.

But somewhere along the way, I lost it.

It wasn’t one big thing, more like a slow unraveling. Life got loud. Deadlines replaced daydreams. My phone became a permanent fixture in my hand. I started books and never finished them. I stacked them like intentions on my nightstand, then felt guilty every time I glanced their way. The joy I once felt cracked under the pressure of trying to “keep up” with new releases, trendy recs, and never-ending TBR lists.

And honestly? I missed it. I missed me.

What’s bringing me back isn’t a resolution or a perfect reading challenge spreadsheet. It’s softer than that. It’s the sound of rain and the pull of a good story. It’s finding a dusty old book at a thrift store and remembering how it felt to be curious. It’s giving myself permission to read slowly, to reread old favorites, to stop chasing numbers and start chasing wonder again.

I’m coming back to reading the way you come back to a familiar cottage after being away too long—wiping off the cobwebs, lighting a candle, and sinking into the comfiest chair with something that makes your heart beat a little softer.

CHANGING VIEWS-TWO COACHING POEMS

(These are two poems from a collection I have been working on for some time

From Coaching Poems to Confront, Challenge, Cajole and Change)

    Changing Views

By Iris J, Arenson-Fuller

When I ask you to reframe I know you can’t easily change the colors of your matting or the wood frame that keeps the colors safely contained, not running out into the room not clashing wildly with the couch, not…