I didn’t set out to become a bookstagrammer.
It started with burnout—the heavy, numbing kind that steals your joy and fogs up your brain until everything feels like too much. I was running on empty, buried under deadlines and expectations, craving softness but living in survival mode.
And then, on a random evening—curled under a blanket with a lukewarm cup of tea and a half-read romance novel—I opened Instagram and created a new account: @Bookishblkgirl81.
Just for me.
No algorithms. No pressure. Just a quiet little corner of the internet to post the books I loved and the feelings they stirred up.
What I didn’t expect was that this tiny act of rebellion against my burnout would become a lifeline. A way back to myself.
Books Became My Therapy
Reading had always been my safe place—but sharing what I read? That turned everything up a notch. I started picking books based on how I wanted to feel: cozy, seen, inspired, understood. I dove into romantic comedies, tender second chances, and soul-deep stories by Black women who felt like they got me.
And when I talked about those books on @Bookishblkgirl81, people responded with kindness, recommendations, and real connection.
A Creative Outlet I Didn’t Know I Needed
There’s something magical about styling a flatlay, picking the right filter, and writing a caption that feels like a mini journal entry. Bookstagram gave me a creative outlet that was low-stakes but high-reward—something joyful and mine. No rules. No deadlines. Just vibes.
It reminded me that I am creative. That I have a voice. That rest and play are sacred.
A Community of Readers and Rest Seekers
Through Bookishblkgirl81, I met other women who were also tired. Who were also trying to reclaim joy. We swapped book recs, self-care rituals, and DMs about everything from hormone balance to which fictional man we’d marry.
It made the world feel smaller and more beautiful. Less lonely. More gentle.
From Chaos to Cozy
Now, every post I make is a tiny ritual of reclamation.
When I light a candle, pour a cup of tea, and set up a cozy book photo—I’m telling the world (and myself): “I matter. My rest matters. My joy is not a luxury—it’s essential.”
Bookstagram helped me remember who I was underneath the burnout.
A cozy baddie.
A reader.
A writer.
A woman worthy of softness.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed, I invite you to find one small thing that feels like you. Maybe it’s reading. Maybe it’s journaling. Maybe it’s creating an account just for joy.
You never know.
That one tiny thing might just become the way out.