I grew up in a tough environment, with a high-conflict household and a challenging relationship with my mother. Early on, I learned to survive, and my experiences shaped how I saw the world – as harsh, often unfair, and full of struggle. Even as a child, I was already asking big questions about life, fate, and suffering, trying to make sense of it all.
Books became my escape. Our family worked as housemaids for a wealthy family, and one of their daughters was a teacher. Because of her, the house was filled with books – encyclopaedias, children’s stories, and novels. I grew up surrounded by these books, and they became my refuge. Starting with simple tales, my reading list eventually expanded to include classics and poetry, introducing me to authors like Charles Bukowski, Ernest Hemingway, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. Their writings resonated deeply, capturing the bittersweet realities of life, love, and society.
In many ways, these books validated my own struggles. They made me feel seen, but they also left me with a lingering sadness. My difficult childhood had taken its toll, and I was diagnosed with a mental illness that made me more susceptible to depression. I realised that, while these works were beautiful and thought-provoking, they reinforced the sorrow I was already carrying. There was something in them that made suffering seem inevitable – almost romanticised – which wasn’t what I needed at that time.
Eventually, I moved away from these kinds of books. I set them aside, focusing instead on healing and rebuilding myself. Last year, as I returned to reading, I found myself drawn to a different genre – self-help. Some of my earliest encounters with self-help books had been with The Present, Who Moved My Cheese?, and The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, but back then, as a young reader, the lessons didn’t quite sink in. English wasn’t my first language, so I struggled to connect with them, feeling more bored than inspired.
Now, however, self-help books speak to me in a whole new way. With a healthier mindset and a better grasp on life, I’ve come to appreciate these books. Atomic Habits by James Clear, in particular, was a turning point. It taught me that small, consistent steps lead to meaningful change, and it helped me cultivate self-discipline in ways that felt achievable.
Now, I’m fully immersed in the world of self-improvement. I love reading books that help me make better choices and encourage a positive outlook on life. Now, my library is full of self-help books, and my current read on Kindle is The Fatherless Daughter Project. It’s also a bonus that my boyfriend is into this genre as well – with his collection, I have access to popular titles like Grit, Ikigai, The Subtle Art of Not Giving a Fck*, The Art of Thinking Clearly, and even business books that offer insights on finance and growth.
Looking back, I still cherish the works of Bukowski, Hemingway, and Fitzgerald for what they taught me about resilience and the human spirit. But I’m in a new phase now – one focused on finding hope, motivation, and lasting happiness. I’m excited about this journey of self-improvement, turning pages that fill me with optimism rather than sorrow. Here’s to this new chapter – one that’s teaching me to thrive, not just survive.