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It’s amazing how much you’re missing in a depressive state until you start to come out on the other side. It’s like breathing again after being underwater for far too long.

Jenny Lawson

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Jenny Lawson
Age: 50
Born: 1973
Born: December 29
Author
Journalist
Jennifer Lawson
Like
Side
Sides
Start
State
Depressive
States
Underwater
Come
Breathing
Much
Amazing
Long
Missing

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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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Then I yelled through his door, It's an anniversary gift for you, asshole. Two whole weeks early. FIFTEEN YEARS IS BIG METAL CHICKENS.
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When you're really crazy you don't question it. Being aware of my behaviors stops them. Sure, a lot of people pick their cuticles, but how many people cut big parts of their skin off? It's unfair because I have been judged.
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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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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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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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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.
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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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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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...and whenever I had menstral cramps, I could just pretend that Voldemort was close.
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One ox, two oxen. One fox, two foxen.
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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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In fact almost everyone in my yearbook wrote the same thing to me: To weird girl, you're nice. I didn't think it was bad. When I showed my mother she said, Everyone is different. Being weird became my tool. I'm weird that's who I am. It was my coping badge.
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A friend is someone who knows where all your bodies are buried. Because they're the ones who helped you put them there. And sometimes, if you're really lucky, they help you dig them back up.
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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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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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I very much own the fact that I'm a misfit. The Internet makes everyone realize they're screwed up.
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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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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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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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