“Weird on, you bad-ass motherfucker.”
Even after a flight delay, several inches of snow, and forgotten medications, Jenny Lawson, better known as The Bloggess, shined during her reading and Q&A in Philadelphia on Wednesday night.
I first discovered The Bloggess my freshman year of college, when her first book Let’s Pretend This Never Happened: (A Mostly True Memoir) popped up on a list of the best memoirs for young women to read. I had recently been diagnosed with anxiety and depression (though I wouldn’t begin taking medication for it until a year later), so reading about someone else’s struggles with mental illness made me feel less alone. Jenny Lawson is candid about her struggles, and as a young woman feeling a bit lost in the world, I felt understood.
In that book, she writes, “…you are defined not by life’s imperfect moments, but by your reaction to them. And because there is joy in embracing – rather than running from – the utter absurdity of life.”
This quote, more than any other from that book, has stuck with me, even years after I first read it. I needed to learn how to embrace what she calls “the utter absurdity of life,” and I’d like to think that, since then, I have.
Ever since I read her first book, I’ve followed Jenny Lawson’s work. As a young writer, and as someone who struggles with mental health issues, she is the very definition of a role model.
Her second book, Furiously Happy, is a collection of essays that completely changed my life. She delves into more detail about her mental health issues and how she deals with them, and again, I saw myself reflected in the things she discussed. It’s rare to find an author whose writing strikes such a chord; I felt understood and loved and not alone. I felt like, in a way, she was writing about me. I felt like she could be one of my best friends.
During her book tour for Furiously Happy, Lawson began posting photos of her drawings to social media; she has stated that she draws to “keep [her] hands from hurting [herself].” She revealed during her reading at Barnes and Noble that she was supposed to be starting another collection of essays, but her depression was preventing her from writing. Instead, she drew gorgeous patterns and pictures, which eventually became You are Here: An Owner’s Manual for Dangerous Minds.
I don’t often go to readings, and I almost didn’t attend this one. However, there was something telling me that I had to go, that I would regret it if I missed this chance. I drove to Philadelphia in a swirling snowstorm, and trudged through the leftover snowbanks to get to the bookstore. I arrived late, and ended up sitting on the floor behind the author’s table.
I wouldn’t have changed a thing.
It’s not often you get to meet one of your idols. It’s even rarer that you’re able to thank them for everything they’ve done for you.
After her reading, and a Q&A session that was honest and inspiring, I got in line to get my books signed (well, Furiously Happy would be getting signed again…). All day, I had thought about what I would say when I finally got to meet her. When the time came? Everything I’d planned to say disappeared from my head. My hands were shaking. I could barely form a sentence beyond, “Thank you.” After a few seconds to compose myself, I handed her the letter I’d written, thanked her profusely for everything, and got my picture with her.
In a matter of minutes, it was over. But they were some of the best minutes of my life.
Jenny Lawson taught me to be furiously happy. She taught me that I don’t have to be afraid of myself, but rather, that my imperfections make me who I am. She showed me that depression lies, and that sometimes, it’s okay not to be okay. She is brilliant, hilarious, and so, so kind, and I still can’t believe I was lucky enough to meet her. I’ll never be able to thank her enough for the inspiration and courage she’s given me, but I hope that, through some cosmic, universal magic, she knows how much she means to me and everyone else whose lives she’s touched.
Thank you, Jenny Lawson, for everything.