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Even at age 10, I already knew that I was different from most people. My anxiety disorder was still years from being diagnosed, but it affected me quite deeply. I was too afraid to speak out in class, too nervous to make real friends.
Jenny Lawson
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Jenny Lawson
Age: 50
Born: 1973
Born: December 29
Author
Journalist
Jennifer Lawson
Different
Quite
Disorder
Even
Class
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Years
Friends
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Speak
Anxiety
People
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Diagnosed
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When I was in junior high I read a lot of Danielle Steele. So I always assumed that the day I got engaged I'd be naked, covered in rose petals, and sleeping with the brother of the man who'd kidnapped me.
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When I was little, my father used to sell guns and ammo at a sporting goods store, but I always told everyone he was an arms dealer, because it sounded more exciting.
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...and whenever I had menstral cramps, I could just pretend that Voldemort was close.
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I was having problems with depression and anxiety disorder, and it felt like not blogging about it was creating a false history. When I did finally share the problems I was having, I was shocked - not only by the support that was given to me, but also by the incredible amount of people who admitted they struggled with the same thing.
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When Hailey was born my first thought was that I needed a drink and that hospitals should have bars in them.
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A house should look lived in, and I consider it clean as long as I don't stick to it and it doesn't give me cholera.
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A hug is like a strangle you haven't finished yet.
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I can finally see that all the terrible parts of my life, the embarrassing parts, the incidents I wanted to pretend never happened, and the things that make me weird and different, were actually the most important parts of my life. They were the parts that made me ME.
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One moment I'm perfectly fine and the next I feel a wave of nausea, then panic. Then I can't catch my breath and I know I'm about to lose control and all I want to do is escape. Except that the one thing I can't escape from is the very thing I want to run away from... me.
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But really, what else are you going to talk about in line at the liquor store? Childhood trauma seems like the natural choice, since it’s the reason why most of us are in line there to begin with.
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One ox, two oxen. One fox, two foxen.
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Every time I get scared or feel like I'm not going to be good enough at something, I say that mantra to myself. Pretend you're good at it.
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Because 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.
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The first thing I do when I come home is check the refrigerator for cats because I'm convinced that if one dies, my husband will hide it in there because I don't cook and so I won't see it. I do drink Cokes, though ,so technically he should hide the corpse in the oven. And now I need to start checking the oven.
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One of the most important things I learned is forging a rapport with someone at your insurance company. Know their names. You'll eventually get someone who will tell you, This is how you do an appeal. This is what you need to say in your letter. You can also always go to the ER to get whatever you need to tide you over for a few days.
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In short? It is exhausting being me. Pretending to be normal is draining and requires amazing amounts of energy and Xanax.
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Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn't actually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in your mind?
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I am the Wizard of Oz of housewives (in that I am both Great and Terrible and because I sometimes hide behind the curtains
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Grandpa did everything at his own pace, a speed that my sister and I referred to as 'when snails attack.' ... My grandparents' house was only about ten miles from ours, but the ride there would necessitate sandwiches packed for the trip, and several books to keep us occupied.
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Writing is my therapy. In addition to my real therapy. God knows where I'd be without it. I'd probably still be at my last job, working in HR at a religious organization. I was horribly miscast.
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