2020 has been… a lot. The world shifted overnight, and so did our lives. Staying home became the new normal, work and social life moved online, and every day came with a new wave of news that made it hard to breathe. Fear and uncertainty were everywhere, and some days I struggled just to feel grounded.
At the start of the year, my resolution was simple: I wanted to read more. I never imagined that “more time” would come in the form of a global pandemic. And yet, somehow, reading became my anchor. Each book was a quiet companion in days that felt endless. They gave me space to think, to escape, and to find pieces of myself I didn’t even realize I was missing. Looking back, I’m amazed that I managed to finish 13 books this year, something I honestly never thought I would be able to do.
I read Educated by Tara Westover and marveled at the strength of the human spirit. I returned to A Work in Progress and Note to Self by Connor Franta, and they felt like letters from a friend who understood exactly what it’s like to feel lost and hopeful at the same time. 101 Essays That Will Change the Way You Think challenged me to see myself and the world differently. Factfulness reminded me that even in chaos, perspective matters.
I discovered calm in Ikigai. I reflected on the present and the future with Harari’s 21 Lessons for the 21st Century, Sapiens, and Homo Deus. I let words like Seeds Planted in Concrete and The Book of Mistakes remind me that growth often comes through struggle, and imperfection is part of life. The Molecule of More and The Untethered Soul nudged me to understand the mind, desire, and freedom in new ways.
Looking back, I realize 2020 didn’t just take away a sense of normalcy, it gave me a strange, unexpected gift: time with myself. Time to think, to reflect, and to grow quietly. And through it all, books were my constant, my solace, and my guide.
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