Jenny Lawson - Furiously Happy: A Funny Book About Horrible Things

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This book is dedicated to my daughter, the giggling witness to the strange and wonderful world her family has created out of insanity (both real and hyperbolic).

God help us when shes old enough to write her own memoir.

It was the best of books, it was the worst of hairbrushes. Read it. Dont tease your hair with it.

C HARLES D ICKENS

Jesus gave me this book when he was done with it, saying, You have got to read this shit, Kevin. Its fucking fantastic. Jesus is terrible with names.

E RNEST H EMINGWAY

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well, but only one whose face I want to peel off and wear around my parlor. Lock thy door, Mrs. Lawson.

J ANE A USTEN

I can say without exaggeration: This is the finest coaster I have ever owned.

D OROTHY P ARKER

Its life that matters, nothing but lifethe process of discovering, the everlasting and perpetual process, not the discovery itself, at all. That, and this book. This book is nice too.

F YODOR D OSTOYEVSKY

Who let you in here?

S TEPHEN K ING

I seem to have lost my coat.

W ILLIAM S HAKESPEARE

You dont even know these people in your blurbs. Most of them are dead and Stephen King is probably going to press charges. Were really going to need to increase your visits.

MY CURRENT SHRINK

This is where I was going to put a simple Mary Oliver quote but instead I decided to replace it with the idea I had for the cover of this book because Im pretty sure itll never get accepted and I dont want it to go to waste. The great thing about this cover is that when youre holding the book up to read it, it will look like the bottom of your face has been replaced with an ecstatic raccoon smile. That way you look friendly and also terrifying to anyone passing by, which is nice because then people wont bother you while youre reading. In fact, you can rip out the previous page and glue photocopies of it on the covers of all of your other books because its like a subtle Do Not Disturb sign. People may think youre a slow reader after a few years of this, but its worth it for the uninterrupted peace, and the added joy of being half a raccoon. If you disagree then this is probably the wrong book for you.

Youve been warned.

No, no. I insist you stop right now.

Still here? Awesome. Now youre not allowed to blame me for anything in this book because I told you to stop reading and you just kept going. Youre like Bluebeards wife when she found all those heads in the closet. (Spoiler alert.) But personally I think thats a good thing. Ignoring the severed human heads in the closet doesnt make for a good relationship. It makes for an unsanitary closet and possible accessory charges. You have to confront those decapitated heads because you cant grow without acknowledging that we are all made up from the weirdness that we try to hide from the rest of the world. Everyone has human heads in their closet. Sometimes the heads are secrets, or unsaid confessions, or quiet fears. This book is one of those severed heads. You are holding my severed head in your hands. This is a bad analogy but in my defense, I did tell you to stop. I dont want to blame the victim, but at this point were in this together.

* * *

Everything in this book is mostly true but some details have been changed to protect the guilty. I know its usually about protecting the innocent but why would they need protection? Theyre innocent. And theyre also not nearly as fun to write about as the guilty, who always have more fascinating stories and who make you feel better about yourself by comparison.

* * *

This is a funny book about living with mental illness. It sounds like a terrible combination, but personally, Im mentally ill and some of the most hysterical people I know are as well. So if you dont like the book then maybe youre just not crazy enough to enjoy it. Either way, you win.

Dear reader,

Right now youre holding this book in your hands and wondering if its worth reading. Its probably not, but theres a $25 bill hidden in the binding so you should just buy it quickly before the clerk notices.

You are welcome.

Furiously Happy is the name of this book. Its also a little something that saved my life.

My grandmother used to say, Into everyones life a little rain must fallrain, assholes, and assorted bullshit. Im paraphrasing. But she was right. We all get our share of tragedy or insanity or drama, but what we do with that horror is what makes all the difference.

I learned this firsthand a few years ago when I fell into a severe bout of depression so terrific that I couldnt see a way out of it. The depression wasnt anything new. Ive struggled with many forms of mental illness since I was a kid, but clinical depression is a semiregular visitor and anxiety disorder is my long-term abusive boyfriend. Sometimes the depression is mild enough that I mistake it for the flu or mono, but this instance was one of the extreme cases. One where I didnt necessarily want my life to end, I just wanted it to stop being such a bastard. I reminded myself that depression lies, because it does. I told myself that things would get better. I did all of the normal things that sometimes help but I still felt hopeless and suddenly I found myself really angry. Angry that life can throw such curveballs at you. Angry at the seeming unfairness of how tragedy is handed out. Angry because I had no other emotions left to give.

So I took to my blog and wrote a post that would change the way that I would look at life from then on:

October 2010:

All things considered, the last six months have been a goddamn Victorian tragedy. Today my husband, Victor, handed me a letter informing me that another friend had unexpectedly died. You might think that this would push me over the edge into an irreversible downward spiral of Xanax and Regina Spektor songs, but no. Its not. Im fucking done with sadness, and I dont know whats up the ass of the universe lately but Ive HAD IT. I AM GOING TO BE FURIOUSLY HAPPY, OUT OF SHEER SPITE.

Can you hear that? Thats me smiling , yall. Im smiling so loud you can fucking hear it. Im going to destroy the goddamn universe with my irrational joy and I will spew forth pictures of clumsy kittens and baby puppies adopted by raccoons and MOTHERFUCKING NEWBORN LLAMAS DIPPED IN GLITTER AND THE BLOOD OF SEXY VAMPIRES AND ITS GOING TO BE AWESOME. In fact, Im starting a whole movement right now. The FURIOUSLY HAPPY movement. And its going to be awesome because first of all, were all going to be VEHEMENTLY happy, and secondly because it will freak the shit out of everyone that hates you because those assholes dont want to see you even vaguely amused, much less furiously happy, and it will make their world turn a little sideways and will probably scare the shit out of them. Which will make you even more happy. Legitimately. Then the world tips in our favor. Us: 1. Assholes: 8,000,000. That score doesnt look as satisfying as it should because they have a bit of a head start. Except you know what? Fuck that. Were starting from scratch.