Broken (in the best possible way)

By Jenny Lawson

An Instant New York Times Bestseller

From the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Furiously Happy and Let’s Pretend This Never Happened comes a deeply relatable book filled with humor and honesty about depression and anxiety.

As Jenny Lawson’s hundreds of thousands of fans know, she suffers from depression. In Broken, Jenny brings readers along on her mental and physical health journey, offering heartbreaking and hilarious anecdotes along the way.

With people experiencing anxiety and depression now more than ever, Jenny humanizes what we all face in an all-too-real way, reassuring us that we’re not alone and making us laugh while doing it. From the business ideas that she wants to pitch to Shark Tank to the reason why Jenny can never go back to the post office, Broken leaves nothing to the imagination in the most satisfying way. And of course, Jenny’s long-suffering husband Victor—the Ricky to Jenny’s Lucille Ball—is present throughout.

A treat for Jenny Lawson’s already existing fans, and destined to convert new ones, Broken is a beacon of hope and a wellspring of laughter when we all need it most.

Includes Photographs and Illustrations

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Apr 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781250077059

Jenny Lawson

Jenny Lawson is an award-winning humorist known for her great candor in sharing her struggle with mental illness. She lives in Texas with her husband and daughter and was constantly “buying too many books” (“Not a real thing,” she insists), so she decided to skip the middleman and just started her own bookshop, which also serves booze because books and booze are what magic is made of. She has previously written Let’s Pretend This Never Happened and Furiously Happy, both of which were #1 New York Times bestsellers. She also wrote You Are Here, which inexplicably made it onto the New York Times bestseller list in spite of the fact that it was basically a very fun coloring book. She would like to be your friend unless you’re a real asshole. And yes, she realizes that this whole paragraph is precisely the reason she shouldn’t be allowed to write her own bio.

Book preview

Jenny Lawson, Full-Grown Mammal: An Introduction

You probably just picked up this book thinking, What the shit is this all about? And frankly I’m right there with you. Honestly, I just got here myself. By the time you read this it will be an actual, fully formed, and probably horribly offensive book, but at the moment I’m writing this it’s just a bunch of sentences, paralyzing anxiety, and a lot of angst. Some people write a book a week, but I’m achingly slow and filled with self-doubt and writer’s block, so by the time you read this I will have gone through years of WRITING IS SO LONELY AND I HATE EVERYTHING AND EVERYONE. I will have gone through the writing period when I tell my husband that real writers write drunk and edit sober, and then later the editing period when I tell him I have edited this notion and have to write drunk and also edit drunk, and even the period where I just lock myself in a room and force myself to write and it’s glorious and beautiful until I wake up the next day and realize it’s garbage and delete everything.

You, on the other hand, will only see the finished product. Shiny and edited and pasted together with the tears of copy editors whom I have sent to an early grave and/or multiple bars. Will it be worth it? No damn idea. But I can’t stop, because writers write always. Not well, necessarily. But they write. And you are a reader. So you read. (Unless you are listening to the audiobook, in which case, I guess you are a hearer? Is that right? That seems like the wrong word but I can’t think of the correct one right now. But I bet you’re a great hearer, even if that word doesn’t exist.) I don’t even know you and I can tell you’re special. Mostly because everyone seems special to me. Granted, some of that is because I have avoidant personality disorder and imposter syndrome, which automatically makes me think everyone in the world is better than me, and some of it is because you’re still reading this (or hearering it) even though it’s pretty obvious that I’m stalling because I’m not sure what to write about; I appreciate that and I owe you a drink.

(OH! LISTENING TO. Those are the words I was looking for. Not hearering. Although I sort of like the melody of the word hearering now, so let’s keep it.)

This whole introduction is a pretty good indication of the baffling wordsmithery that you can expect here, and that’s a good thing because 1) now you’ve been warned, so you can’t blame me if you hate this book, and 2) you’re going to feel so much better about yourself in comparison.

I’m not just saying that to flatter you. Truly. I have managed to fuck shit up in shockingly impressive ways and still be considered a fairly acceptable person. In some ways I’ve actually made it my living. And because I’m so good at being publicly terrible, other people feel comfortable telling me about how awful they are at being an adult, and then I try to top them with a Oh, you think that’s bad? Let me tell you how I tried to rescue a decapitated human head from my work, and then they’re like, Nah. HOLD MY BEER, and in the end I end up with a new best friend because how could you not love a person who couldn’t understand where those terrible farting noises were coming from on the bus but then she realized that they were the noises of the dog toy in her purse that she was leaning on and everyone looked at her and so she ended up shaking a rubber foot at them while yelling, I’M NOT FARTING. IT’S MY DOG’S FOOT. Answer: You can’t. YOU LOVE THEM. Hard.

It’s weird because we often try to present our fake, shiny, happy selves to others and make sure we’re not wearing too-obvious pajamas at the grocery store, but really, who wants to see that level of fraud? No one. What we really want is to know we’re not alone in our terribleness. We want to appreciate the failure that makes us perfectly us and wonderfully relatable to every other person out there who is also pretending that they have their shit together and didn’t just eat that onion ring that fell on the floor. Human foibles are what make us us, and the art of mortification is what brings us all together.

A lot of people read my books because they love to laugh about all the terrible things you maybe shouldn’t laugh at. I hope you find this book just as funny, but there’s some really serious and raw stuff in here too, mostly related to my battles with mental illness. If I could choose the themes of my life, I assure you this book would be all about my successful otter rescue and how I became a sexy vampire who isn’t allergic to dairy. But we don’t get to pick who we are. I am still as broken as I was before, but with better stories and a little more insight into just how fucked up I am.

Even the title for this introduction comes from a conversation I had with a friend where we tried to win worst at adulting. I pointed out that I could barely even be human and that at most I was just a full-grown mammal. But then I remembered that the thing that makes you a mammal is laying live young instead of eggs and lactating, but I couldn’t even lactate properly. But then I remembered that men don’t lay live young and they’re still mammals, and I thought maybe I needed to consult a science book because I’d fucked up the definition, or that maybe it was another situation where men just get a pass because of that whole I own a penis thing, and then my friend was like, I don’t think you’re supposed to say that you ‘lay’ live young, and I was like, "Yeah. Poor phrasing on my part. But in my defense, I can’t even mammal correctly, and she refused to accept that and insisted that I recognize my accomplishments. You are Jenny Lawson, full-grown mammal! she said encouragingly and with confidence, and I said, I think you just came up with my next book title, and she was like, I think you could do better," but GUESS WHAT? I CAN’T AND NOW I FEEL BAD AGAIN.

But fuck that. Fuck feeling bad about eating floor onion rings. Fuck the shame that comes from wearing your clothes to bed so you’re technically never (or always) in your pajamas. Fuck the people who make you feel bad for glorifying the odd behavior and questionable decisions that make you who you are. Those things are perfectly acceptable.

Be good. Be kind. Love each other. Fuck everything else. The only thing that matters is how you feel and how you’ve made others feel. And I feel okay (for the moment), and I make others feel okay by being a barometer of awkwardness and self-doubt.

I am Jenny Lawson, full-grown mammal.

And I am ready to begin.

I Already Forgot I Wrote This

I don’t remember the first time I noticed I was losing my memory. This sounds like a joke but I only laughed when I read it again and realized how ridiculous it sounds. Extremely ridiculous, but to many of you who are nodding in agreement at what you just read, it’s also extremely true. Also, now I’ll have to remind half of you why you were nodding, and it’s because I was talking about memory loss. And if you looked back at the first sentence to verify that that’s what you were agreeing with because you didn’t trust that that’s what we were talking about, then you already know my pain.

I can blame some of this on my ADD, which gives me the attention level of a kitten on cocaine. One minute I’m having a brilliant thought (like wondering if flat-chested women ever get that sweaty underboob smell even if they don’t have underboob), and then I suddenly find myself standing in front of an open refrigerator and thinking, Why am I here? But not like Why am I here, and what is the purpose of life? More like Why am I in the kitchen? How did I get here? Why is there milk in this fridge if I’m lactose intolerant? WHOSE HOUSE IS THIS? And then I remember that other people live with me, and that they probably bought the milk, but then I think, Does milk always look that color? How do I know if it’s gone bad? and then I look for the expiration date on the jug and it says it’s good through November but it doesn’t have a year so I don’t know if it’s November of this year or last year so I end up standing there at the fridge in confusion, holding the milk in my hand, wondering if it’s either very fresh or completely poisonous, and then Victor walks in and says, "Close the damn fridge. And why are you holding the milk? You don’t even drink milk, and I say, What year is this?" and he looks at me as if I’ve lost my mind. Probably because he doesn’t realize that I’m really asking what year the milk is from, not what year we’re currently living in. Except then I start to wonder what year it is because I’ve gotten that wrong before. Then he gives me one of those concerned, irritated looks, but mostly because I’m letting all the cold air out of the refrigerator and less because he thinks I figured out time travel and I’m Jenny from the future who just returned from some sort of time loop where I killed someone who was worse than Hitler but who you don’t know about because I killed him (which would be my first thought if someone asked me what year it was because I give people the benefit of the doubt, Victor). And also a little because he thinks I’m losing my mind. Mostly the fridge thing though, because he’s used to the latter. If I’m being honest though, that confused irritation is probably one of the most stable parts of our relationship, and I think if I suddenly started to make sense now he’d suspect I’d been abducted by aliens.

Which—now that I think about it—I might have been, because the alien theory would account for all this missing time I’ve lost. It would explain all the times I find myself in the closet thinking, Why am I here and who bought all these shoes? Or panickedly telling Victor that I can’t find my phone while I’m actually talking to him on it. Victor says it wouldn’t explain that last part, but you don’t know what aliens do, Victor. They’re unpredictable. Probably. I don’t really remember. WHICH PROVES MY POINT.

Or! Maybe I’m a bunch of me’s all living in different time dimensions and slipping forward and back, either with too much information to sound sane or missing vital information I should totally have.

It’s not just small things I’ve forgotten. When I was younger I worried that my memory lapses were a sign I was blacking out terrible things and that one day I’d remember the terrible things that had been done to me in cults I’d obviously forgotten about and may have even started myself, but it’s not that. I just have holes in my memory. I have forgotten entire vacations. I’ve forgotten countries I say I’d like to see, and then Victor will pull out pictures that show me in them. I remember the photograph. I remember the chicken running around in the background and the fact that Victor was trying to find the Spanish word for butter but called it something else. But everything outside of that picture is fog. And this is why I write. Because my mind is tricksy and unpredictable, and without pictures and stories and constant remembrances sometimes things slip away. And I slip away with them. I wonder where I go. Is there a part of me left behind forever on deserted beaches Victor insists I’ve slept on? Is another me forever seeing the moments of my life I seem to have forgotten?

It’s not all bad. There are some perks to having a poor memory. I am eternally telling Victor that I found a great documentary we should watch about serial killers, only for him to stare at me in disbelief and remind me that we just watched it six months ago. Then I’ll tell him he’s insane and I’ll watch it, angrily, as I’m certain he’s just saying that because he wants to watch NASCAR, but then halfway through something will seem familiar and I’ll realize he’s right. Then six months later I’ll tell him about a great documentary on serial killers I recorded for us and he’ll stare at me and tell me that not only have I seen it multiple times, we’ve argued about whether I’ve seen it, and then I look at him like he’s gone insane because I DEFINITELY have not seen this documentary and so I say, YOU CAN JUST SAY YOU DON’T WANT TO WATCH IT. YOU DON’T HAVE TO GASLIGHT ME, but then I watch it again and at that same place I remember that I have seen it before and I also remember that this was the same place in the film I remembered I’d seen it before the last time I forgot that I’d watched it. And then I’m forced to tell Victor that he might be right, but I still finish it because I don’t remember how it ends. And that’s nice because I always have something new to watch.

It’s the same with books. Even the ones I’ve read over and over are new to me toward the end. I can never remember if the butler did it or if Alice will escape Wonderland. I thought I was a big fan of Agatha Christie but it turns out I just read Murder on the Orient Express over and over, and each time I was a little disappointed in her because I usually figured out who did it before the end, but probably just because I’d read the same story a thousand times. It’s worse when I use an e-reader because I try to buy books and my e-reader is like, You already own that, dumbass, and I’m like, Nuh-uh, and then it downloads and I see that I’ve highlighted parts of the book that I would totally highlight if it was me and read strange notes I’ve written in the pages. Some people might find this unsettling, and in some ways it is, but it’s also sort of nice to always have a new book that I discuss with my book club (who is basically all of the me’s who’ve read the book before and left weird notes in the edges). That sounds insane, but my book club is awesome and is possibly the largest group of people I encounter (even if all of them are me’s that I’ve forgotten). They’re very entertaining though, and when I read their notes I’ll cry out, YES! I AGREE SO MUCH!… I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST ME. And I guess that makes sense because it is just me, since I’m the one who wrote them, but still, it’s reassuring, and after I forget that I’ve read a book multiple times it provides a much-needed comfort.

There are advantages to having a spotty memory, the biggest being that it has kept me married for more than twenty years. I’ll have fights with Victor and I’ll be very angry over something terrible he’s done, but it’s not unusual for me to forget what it was we were fighting about while still fighting, which makes it very hard to win even though I know I’m right and that he should just trust me and apologize and maybe buy me a ferret. Victor remembers every word, so I’m forever reminding myself to buy a tape recorder to record the fight so I can stop and refresh myself, but I never remember to do that, and in fact as I’m writing this I just remembered that tape recorders probably don’t even exist anymore as I haven’t seen one in twenty years. And then I remembered that my last tape recorder was replaced by my CD Walkman that I used when I used to remember to exercise, except the CD player was sort of janky and wouldn’t play unless it was held flat, so I’d power-walk through my neighborhood holding out the CD player with both hands in front of me like I was in a very big hurry to present a small waffle iron to someone just around the corner. And now I just forgot what I was writing about and had to go back to remember that I was writing about forgetting what I was fighting with Victor about, and now I’m mad at Victor because technically he started all of this.

These arguments with Victor usually end with my yelling, YOU KNOW I HAVE A HOLE IN MY HEAD THAT THINGS FALL OUT OF SO JUST BECAUSE I CAN’T TELL YOU WHY YOU’RE WRONG, THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE NOT WRONG. Victor will say, You are impossible to argue with, and I agree, but mostly because I’m pretty sure he knows he’s wrong too. I wouldn’t be mad if he hadn’t done something awful to begin with, and it’s even worse that I’m not able to remember the fight. Basically I think I should have a golf handicap but in fighting, but Victor says that doesn’t exist and then I just give up.

In fact, I suspect I’ve divorced Victor several times but every time I tried to pack up the car to leave he threw his suitcases in the car and said, "I can’t believe you agreed to go to [insert name of beach I’ve already forgotten here], and I was probably like, I—wait, what? and he was all, Don’t pretend you’ve forgotten again. You agreed to [insert thing I have pictures of but don’t remember] but we’re gonna have a blast! And then I doubt my sanity again, because why would I pack dishes to go to the beach? And then Victor would be like, Yeah, you’re weird," and I’d shrug, and then we’d go on an unexpected vacation I’d immediately forget instead of getting divorced. Basically the secret to a long-lasting marriage is memory loss and well-meaning lies and beach margaritas.

It’s gotten a bit worse as I’ve gotten older, possibly as a side effect of the drugs I take to manage my anxiety, or just an effect of growing older, or maybe just my brain becoming as lazy as the rest of me. It doesn’t often bother me but it is unsettling how people who read my blog or books will sometimes remind me of things I’ve done but have forgotten. Or they’ll ask me to inscribe a quote in their book and I’ll say, Oh, that’s so lovely. Who wrote that? and they’ll look at me for a moment to see if I’m joking and then say, You. You wrote that. And I did. Or another me did. One of us did, and I suppose that’s what matters, even when it’s unsettling. If it stays like this forever I’ll be okay with it, because I usually forget it’s an issue and there are pleasant surprises that pop up when I’ve forgotten I bought something for myself or suddenly find something important that I forgot even existed. But it’s still a bit scary.

Dementia runs in my family very strongly. My doctors don’t think I have it, yet, but if I live long enough I’ll probably get it. My grandmother has it. I remember her joking about getting it when her parents dealt with it. My mother jokes about it now and I do too, because you either laugh or you cry. Mostly we do both. We pray that if it comes for us, it comes in the way it has so far for my grandmother, who is still as bright and happy as ever even if she can’t grasp who you are. She reads the same first chapter of a Stephen King novel every week and talks about how much she likes it. Then she forgets she read it and starts over, enjoying it anew each time. It’s a bright spot to a horrible and frightening disease, and a reminder that our time is limited and that our minds are fragile and wonderful and unreliable things. Maybe for some of us more than others.

I’ve seen family lose themselves and felt the sadness as they look at me without recognition, but I’ve also seen them later remember everything perfectly. It’s all there. Just locked away. For safekeeping perhaps. It’s a comforting thought that I can already relate to myself. I have a hole in my head where I fall through. It’s all in that hole, I suspect. It’s real. It’s true. It’s locked away in a treasure box. Just because I don’t remember, it doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. And if one day I look at you and don’t remember who you are or how much you mean to me, know that your importance is still as real then as it is now. Know that you are locked away someplace safe. Know that the me who loved you is still sitting on that beach, forever feeling the sunlight. And know that I’m okay with not having that memory right now, because the me that holds it tight is keeping it safe and uncorrupted and glorious. And she loves you. And I do too.

Remember that.

For me.

Six Times I’ve Lost My Shoes While Wearing Them: A List that Shouldn’t Exist

If you are a normal person you probably looked at that title and thought, It’s not actually possible to lose your shoes while wearing them, but I have proven this wrong so many times that I have to assume it’s a very common problem that everyone is just too afraid to talk about, and I’m going to be the super-brave person to admit that it has happened to me. So many times.

I lose things a lot but usually in relatable ways, like when I can’t find my glasses because they’re on my face, or when I’m looking for my vodka and it’s already in my stomach, or that time when I couldn’t find my cell phone so I called it with the house phone (which no one, including me, knows the number to and is solely used to call lost cell phones). Unfortunately I’d turned the ringer off, but I could hear my cell phone buzzing near me, although it was really muffled, and I was searching all over my office but it was nowhere, so I hunched down to listen to see if it was in the desk drawer but it sounded like it was coming from even lower than that, so I crawled under my desk and it was louder but there was nothing there but carpet, and I was feeling around and put my ear to the ground like I was Gordie in Stand by Me listening for oncoming trains and my cell phone was like, THE CALL IS COMING FROM INSIDE THE HOUSE. LITERALLY, because I could feel the vibrations coming up from the floor. And I’ll admit that I am somewhat irresponsible, but it takes a special kind of careless to somehow leave an entire house on top of your phone, and I was both baffled and also a little impressed with myself. I told Victor that my phone was trapped under the house and that probably we were having an active haunting because only a ghost could have done this and she had obviously put my phone under the floorboards to lead me to her corpse, but he insisted that was impossible, so I calmly explained, I HAVE POKÉMON GO ON THAT PHONE AND I JUST CAUGHT A PERFECT SNORLAX AND I WILL PRY UP THESE FLOORBOARDS WITH A CROWBAR IF NECESSARY, and he didn’t entirely believe me because I don’t think we own a crowbar and also I don’t have any upper-body strength, but then I was like, What if I just start a small, controlled fire…? and suddenly he was down on the floor with me glaring

Reviews for Broken (in the best possible way)

[selia-26098 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Thank you Jenny for such a wonderful book! (and for the lovely imprint under the dust jacket; such a beautiful book in all forms!)

This is exactly what I needed to read right now, and I think I will be revisiting this for years to come.

[smorton11 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I read this book when I was having a hard time coping with everything back in January. The winter was dredging on, I was canceling virtual plans with my best friend, everything felt so monumentally overwhelming, employees at the store were resigning and we were all really struggling as a team to make things work. The majority of us at the bookstore deal with depression and/or anxiety. For me, my anxiety is worse in the winter, particularly when we have lots of snow which triggers my PTSD (I was in a very bad car accident in a snowstorm 6 years ago and nearly had a repeated on the 6th anniversary, literally to the day).

But back to the store – as a group of readers, we were given the greatest treat – multiple advance copies of Broken. We passed them around and after I promised the staff members who didn’t already know Jenny that the book would ultimately be hopeful, we had a mini store book club of sorts which was the winter balm it turned out we all needed.

Jenny doesn’t mention the pandemic. At all. And it is amazing how refreshing that fact in and of itself is. I’ve followed her blog for quite a few years since I first read Let’s Pretend This Never Happened three years ago and so a few of the stories in Broken were familiar, though the essays pieces are original to the book. While I have favorite moments from the book as a whole, it is similar to Jenny’s other works in that the overarching theme is:

It’s okay you’re not okay, but it will get better – I promise.

(THIS ISN’T A DIRECT QUOTE BUT I WANTED TO EMPHASIZE IT.)
There are plenty of hysterical conversations between Jenny and her husband, Victor, many of which make me laugh so hard I cry because I can overwhelming relate (my husband concurs that he can also overwhelmingly relate to Victor’s side of things). There are stories of Jenny’s dog, Dorothy Barker, and Haley, her daughter and now full grown teenager, features prominently as well. There are more taxidermized animals in strange clothes and more stories of Jenny’s unconventional childhood.

It is a treat for old fans and new alike, and is, dare I say, the perfect balm for those who are really struggling with the ongoing pandemic’s affect on their mental health.

[carolee888 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I loved the last book, but this time, my life has topped Jenny Lawson's. I have a big anxiety problem but I cannot do anything about because we were evacuated on 9/9/22 from our apartment due repairs needed from a damage from heavy rains. It has been a painful comedy of errors since then and we are still staying in a motel. My RA has been re-diagnosed to Psoriatis Arthritis and had a change in my cognitive status.I found the chapter on TMS interesting and I am interested in getting my anxiety under control, but not able to tackle that until I am back in my apartment and move. Being in limboland is increasing my anxiety dramatically.To me the best chapter in this book for me is Awkwarding Brings Us together. I laughed and cried so hard, reading the embarrasing things that have happenned to other people. Very similiar things have happenned in my life. Like when I called China and sang the Happy Birthday song to him, forgetting that it was Monday and a whole table of people laughed. My face turned red when I realized that he was at a meeting at work.I hope that you read this book if you need reassurance that you are not the only one in the world suffering from the ugly beasts of anxiety and depression and more.

[kamoorephoto · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As with every Jenny Lawson book, this lived up to my high expectations. There were chapters that were highly personal, then others that were extremely funny and also very relatable. That is her trademark: she’s funny and relatable.

The biggest differences from her previous books (if you have read any of them) are that Lawson has now become a lot more well-known, she’s a parent of a teenager, and her journey to ‘fix’ her depression and anxiety has gone through many twists and turns. Overall, a great Jenny Lawson read!

[seongeona · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Of course, I laughed at the funny bits and was sobered by the serious bits (especially the magnetic brain hammering treatment, which I never heard of). THE best chapter, however, the one that made me cheer/cry, was An Open Letter to My Health Insurance Company. I don't know what word(s) I'm looking for to express my feeling about it, but the writing, the sentiment, the raw truthfulness, is sheer perfection in simplicity and clarity. Brutal.

[ecataldi-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I've listened to all of Jenny Lawson's books on audio and I don't want to read her books any other way. I love her narration and I love that her voice exudes honesty, vulnerability, and laughter. Per usual, Jenny Lawson is able to reveal her struggles, fears, uncertainties, broken bits and all, to help readers understand that they are not alone. Equal parts memoir, self help, and humor - this look inside of Jenny Lawson's mind is candid and revealing. She can go from the funniest story to the saddest - but readers won't be able to stop listening. Everyone can find something to relate in and if everyone could talk about mental health the way that Jenny Lawson does the world would be a much better place.

[jennparm · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As a fellow anxious, depressed introvert, I have always appreciated Jenny Lawson's ability to take the big scary things in life and find the funny in them. Her sincerity and honesty is always refreshing, and it's nice to know we're in good company, even in the bad times. This book was precisely what I expected, and it was just as hilarious and heartfelt and honest as her other writing.

[bragan_8 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jenny Lawson's new book is very much like her previous one. There are lots of hilarious, wacky, often mildly ribald anecdotes from her life, usually featuring her own adorkable awkwardness, random encounters with Texas wildlife, and/or surreal arguments with her long-suffering husband. (Even the chapter titles for this stuff are likely to put a smile on your face: "And Then I Bought Condoms for My Dog", "That Time I Got Haunted by Lizards with Bike Horns," "And That's Why I Can Never Go Back to the Post Office Again"...) Other entries are more serious and poignant reflections on the various mental and physical illnesses that she struggles with, featuring words of wise and gentle, but never sappy encouragement to herself and others for getting through them. I will say, I think I didn't love this quite as much as her previous two books, maybe because I was in less of the right mood for it, or maybe because she's already used up most of her very best stories. But that is a very high bar, anyway, and still leaves a great deal of room for me to like this one a lot. Which I did. And I suspect anyone else who enjoyed those, or who reads her blog, will like it too.

[askelmore · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Best for:Fans of amazing, absurd stories. Fans of sincerity and genuine kindness.In a nutshell:The Bloggess returns with her third (I think) collection of essays, which run from tears streaming down your face funny to deeply moving.Worth quoting:So much, but audio book, so I didn’t get a chance to write them down. The very last line of the afterward of the audio version, however, was perfect.Why I chose it:I’ve read her previous books, and I love listening to her read her own work. She has a fantastic delivery style.Review:I utterly adore reading what author Lawson has to say. She has experienced life in such a different way than I have - and yet I always feel like I can relate to what she’s saying. I read her first book as an audio book, but her second as a standard book. For this one I’ve gone back to reading her via the audio book, because it’s just so damned delightful. Hearing someone with her talent read her own stories brings an additional level of humor, joy, and emotion.In terms of funny stories, for some reason the chapter on the six times she lost her shoes while wearing them really stands out. It’s absurd and hilarious and something that doesn’t make sense when you hear the title, but by the end, it’s like ‘of course.’The most memorable essay for me is the letter she wrote to her health insurance about their repeated denial of coverage for the medicines that are literally keeping her alive. It is heart-wrenching and infuriating and not at all unique, given the utterly broken for-profit health insurance system in the US. Hearing her read out all the hoops she is required to jump through, while ill, to get the treatment she needs covered by her insurance (and not always being successful at that). I feel like it should be read at every Congressional hearing where universal health care is debated.This is an extremely wholesome book that also happens to use the word motherfucker repeatedly throughout. That’s how gifted a writer Lawson is.Recommend to a Friend / Donate it / Toss it:Recommend to a Friend

[bookworm12_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This memoir is equal parts painful mediation on depression and anxiety and laugh-until-you-cry musings about life. The author's awkward interactions with strangers and love of wild creatures make for some hilarious sections. I loved her first book, but this one felt a bit like she couldn't decide which direction she wanted to go. The swings in tone are understandable based on her struggles, but it was still jarring at times. “Human foibles are what make us us, and the art of mortification is what brings us all together.”“I live with two extroverts, which is helpful in that they keep me from becoming a complete hermit but also terrible because they have no concept of the utter emotional and physical exhaustion that comes from living in a world that is too peoply.”

[maureencean · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Thanks to Library Thing for the ARC. I'm taking this to work tomorrow and putting it in someone's hands and saying "read this." And when I get it back, I will do it again, and again. We read "Let's Pretend This Never Happened" for book club, and it was the funniest book I can admit to reading in polite company. I still rated "Furiously Happy" as 4 stars, but I don't recall it being as funny as books 1 and 3. This was sitting outside in my yard laughing so loud that I know other people can hear me, and eventually just crying while I laugh. There was a section near the end that was more filthy than funny, but it was forgivable. I'm not giving it to my co-workers to read because it is funny, BTW, but because it is true. We actually work with people who are "broken" for a living, and many of us have a degree of broken in ourselves. What Lawson gives us is a chance to celebrate our entire self, with all the broken parts...the piece at the end about chards and splinters is incredible....Thank you to Jenny!

[erickas-3 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I didn’t enjoy this one as much as her previous books. I appreciate her struggles with mental illness, and applaud her candor, but many chapters (especially the one about insurance companies) devolved into a rant. These chapters reminded me of excruciatingly long phone calls with complaining friends that become a test of endurance and patience. I really just wanted the funny stories, like the chapter regarding six different times she’s lost one of her shoes. The chapter with back-and-forth correspondence with her editors is clever and hilarious. Her style is self-deprecating in the most amusing way, and she always makes me feel that it’s okay not to be perfect, to be unsure of myself, or suffer from low self-esteem, that feeling that way is normal and most likely afflicts just about everyone. From other reviews I’ve read, her readers fall into two camps: the first group, who want to read about her struggles with debilitating depression and how she copes, and the second group, who want to be entertained by a gifted humorist with a penchant for getting into embarrassing scrapes. This book tries to be both, and because of that, she can’t please everyone all of the time. I’m still really glad Jenny Lawson is on this planet and is able to unabashedly inspire all of us fellow screw-ups, the socially maladroit, and the incurable self-doubters.Many thanks to LibraryThing for the copy in exchange for my review.

[glendalea_2 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jenny Lawson's third memoir takes a bit of a different approach from her previous ones.  Her often raunchy humor is still intact, and she continues to share the random weirdness that is her life.  But the difference is in her approach to her mental and physical illnesses.  From sharing experiences with insurance companies to describing her daily battles, this comes across as much more personal, and I applaud Jenny Lawson for opening up as she does.  Highly recommend for fans and first-time readers.

[euryale-2 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Jenny Lawson has a keen eye for the absurd in everyday life, and even when she is addressing serious topics like depression and other health issues, she is uses a lens of "look how ridiculous this is" and invites the reader to laugh instead of crying. Sometimes there's weariness in the humor, or insecurity, or rage (particularly in An Open Letter to My Insurance Company), but there are also always an intention to be relatable.The laugh-out-loud part (for me) were her "improvements" on inspirational truisms, her Twitter thread of embarrassing moments, and her text comment arguments with her editors. And, as usual, there are also plenty of crazy wildlife and/or pet stories.

[zoes_human · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I loved her other books, but I do believe this one is her best. While I literally laughed myself to tears to the point where I had to stop reading because I could no longer see, I also learned more than ever about depression, anxiety, and the appalling barriers that even well-resourced people face when trying to obtain treatment for their mental health. A brilliant work that I couldn't recommend more.I received a complimentary copy via a LibraryThing giveaway.

[reconditereader · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I wanted to like this book more than I did. I remember laugh-crying through Furiously Happy; I think I read it twice. Perhaps I am just too old now, or this wasn't the right timing for me. Jenny Lawson's writing is funny but exhausting. Her writing persona seems to have little or no self-awareness and therefore I didn't want to spend time with her. This book wasn't for me, but it might be for you.

[mattries37315 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Can a book be written that is both humorous as well as serious about mental health? For the third time Jenny Lawson, aka “The Bloggess”, answers yes with Broken (in the best possible way).As with her previous book Lawson alternates between humor and seriousness, whether dealing with issues with her health or everyday events or just something that inspired her to write about. Always open about the challenges with her physical and mental health, Lawson mixes healthy self-deprecating humor with serious inspirational essays to those who suffer life her while bringing encouragement to all her readers. Essays about her life’s misadventures either on her own or with her family—primarily with her husband Victor—are hilarious and even make you laugh out loud. Other essays include Lawson’s unique ideas for Shark Tank and discussions with her editors about her writing style to name a few, all funny and enjoyable reads in themselves.Having previously read Lawson’s other two books, I knew what type of book I was going to read and upon completion can say that it is as excellent as them. Lawson knows how to mix humor and serious issues, sometimes in the same essay and sometimes in separate ones, which means that no matter the material covered from reflections on mental health to chronicling medical treatments to her everyday misadventures at home or in the neighborhood or in town everything is written fresh and new from anything previously published. And frankly after the last year we all have had, not only the humorous essays are welcomed but also the encouragement for when we know we feel something wrong with us.Broken (in the best possible way) shows the unique writing style of Jenny Lawson that has made a favorite of millions of reads on the Internet and on the page. This book can either be an introduction to Lawson for a first-time reader or a reacquaintance to a longtime fan of her books.

[nancyjcbs · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I listened to Jenny read her book and I'm glad I chose to listen to her. This book is both hysterically funny and heartbreakingly sad. Her voice projected the dissonance better than I would have "heard" it in my reading.Jenny is funny. She's also super critical of herself and totally gets when she's inappropriate and/or "abnormal." She also suffers from severe depression, anxiety, and a host of auto-immune disorders. My full heartbreak and anger was at its peak as she addressed her health insurance company. But in the next chapters I was laughing at her completely illogical stories and behavior. I'm cheering for Jenny and hope that the good days greatly outnumber the bad ones. The good days will return.1 like

[tibobi · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

The Short of It:I love a good laugh. It can fix many things and let’s face it, we haven’t been laughing too much this past year. If you want to use that muscle again, give this book a try.The Rest of It:I knew of Jenny Lawson, AKA “The Bloggess” from my early blogging days but I had never really followed her on any of the social media platforms and then I heard that she had written a book, Let’s Pretend This Never Happened. I remember thinking, good for her. Then a few years later, another book, Furiously Happy. Both books did amazingly well. But they seemed to be humorous in nature and so I never got to them. I love a good laugh but a book of humorous things? Not really my thing.Then, I was offered a review copy of Broken (In the Best Possible Way) and my memory of her came flooding back to me. Wait a second. She writes about mental illness and depression? After sneaking a few pages in while perusing the copy that was just sent to me, I immediately knew I would read it and I would probably enjoy it a lot. True and true.Broken is a memoir told through stories. True stories of her struggle with mental illness, depression, and even her debilitating auto-immune disorder which she suffered greatly from until she found the right medication.Lawson says out loud, what we only think internally.She writes about many things, mostly awkward encounters with others including neighbors, postal employees, doctors, dentists, you name it. She talks about losing her shoes while wearing them. Yes, literally stepping out of a shoe only to leave it behind somewhere. She talks about using a Shop-Vac to clean up pet food only to realize that in doing so, she has also managed to suck up raw poop sewage which of course is gross. One story after another and somehow this insecure, eccentric woman slowly becomes the friend you never had. As “out there” as some of this content is, none of it is new or odd to me. I’ve had many conversations with friends about some of the things she talks about and sometimes, even with just myself. Yes, weird.In the section titled Awkwarding Brings Us Together, I had to stop reading because I was crying so hard from laughing. In this section, she shares Tweets that people shared with her in their attempt to one-up her in awkwardness.Then, she includes a letter to her insurance company. Here, she gets serious. Insurance companies can deny you the one medication that you need to stay alive or they can give it to you at extreme cost. Having battled depressing most of her life, these appeals are the norm and yet in including this in the book, she is speaking to everyone who has ever had to fight for their life. It’s a little “go team!” moment if you ask me.Broken may not be for everyone. Lawson is very blunt and her self-deprecating humor might get on your nerves a little if you aren’t used to that type of humor. She speaks of body parts quite frankly and there is a lot of language. She is not pretending to be anyone in what she writes. This feels 100% authentic to me so her style grew on me. If you need something different and you want to laugh, then this is the book for you. And of course, if you suffer from depression, you may find some comfort in what she shares here as well.Have you read her before?For more reviews, visit my blog: Book Chatter.

[bethyacoub · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jenny Lawson is a mess... aren't we all to varying degrees? BUT she is cognizant of her situation and (mostly) on top of it. She sits firmly at the top of things with a unique style and loads of humor. I have no idea how she manages to be so funny, especially in the face of everything she has to deal with... including infuriating health insurance woes (which I am sure we can ALL relate to) and intrusive thoughts that are downright scary. Not every chapter is wildly hysterical, some hit way too close to home but all are poignant, introspective and honest... so very honest.Her humor is a salve and a boon for all of us crazy messes... even more so for those that have trouble expressing their experiences/pain/neurosis and fragile bits. BUT in the chapters where she is guffaw inducing, bring tears to your eyes, Keegle busting, capital 'F' Funny... I was thankful that I padded up because the polite (knee-jerk) expression Laughing Out Loud was more like Braying (ladylike) Into The Night WHICH makes for a very unpopular reading choice (in my sleep deprived, grouchy husband's bleary eyes) in the wee hours at my house... though I regret nothing!Jenny Lawson is the Queen of awkward encounters and a brilliant tactician, navigating a surprising amount of mortifying "Holy *bleep*, Why Me?" moments! She brings the power of laughter in the face of weird Reality and can easily boast the ability to make any situation weirder as her Super Power.Mrs. Lawson's writing is often Self-Deprecating BUT she manages to do this in an admirably healthy, transcendent way. I swear that everyone needs this book in their lives, not only fellow sufferers but those that need a helping hand understanding/coping with other people's insanity as well. I'm a firm believer that this book can help all sorts of people traverse our murky emotional waters. Could you really ask for more? I guess you could physically ask so but you'll definitely get redirected right back here it's that good.Overall:Broken by Jenny Lawson celebrates the Weird, the Awkward, the Misunderstood and the Broken. Come and be reminded that YOU ARE NOT ALONE!! We are ALL messed up in our own messed up ways and we ALL deserve to be accepted and loved, sharp edged pieces and all! Speaking of loving acceptance, it makes me happy knowing that Jenny has Victor (her devoted, oft times patient, husband). I LOVED his contributions to the book, whether they were done so wittingly or not I'm not sure but it doesn't matter, his interjections play off her Crazy perfectly... they have that healthy Odd Couple balance going for them. Everyone needs a Victor in their life! Mine happens to be a grouchy, sleep deprived (mainly due to my nighttime reading choices) Eric who often grumbles whenever I share a (questionably) ingenious thought at 3:00 a.m. BUT he's my Victor and I'm lucky to have him. Aaaaanyway...I highly recommend you hurry up and go get this book, you don't fully know it yet but you NEED this in your life!! You'll thank me later. ~ Enjoy *** I was given a copy of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review ***

[silentq_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I treated myself to an online event where Lawson read a chapter and chatted with another author, and then Powell's Books mailed me a signed copy of the hardcover. This was a great antidote to the previous serious non fiction I read, though it was serious and heavy at times as she deals with her mental health and the insurance company who blocks her treatment. Some chapters are lyrical beautiful gems and others are scatological hysterical meanders through the wonder that is her way of interacting with the world. Her blog, The Bloggess, has been a source of joy in my life for years and this book is well worth adding to my limited shelf space next to her others.

[spinsterrevival · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Jenny Lawson writes with an amazing mixture of absurdity and poignancy, and it’s all great. There were times when I cried laughing and others when I felt her pain like it was my own (and JFC that letter to her insurance company).

[heather19_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

(I've actually come back to LT after not entering anything new in forever, because I *have* to review this book!)Jenny Lawson's newest book is an emotional roller coaster, although I think that can be said about most of her writing. There is, as usual for her, a lot of 'laugh so hard my eyes water' moments *and* a lot of 'tearing up because emotional' moments. There are two chapters that I partially skipped because of the topic hitting a little too close to home at the moment, but I know I'll go back to them at a later time. Jenny's honesty and openness about her struggles, the way she doesn't gloss over the hard or difficult to talk about parts, the way she speaks in such a raw manner about things that so many people would shy away from, it's so refreshing and wonderful to read. There is one chapter called 'Rainbow Fire' and honestly I bawled, being reminded that even in the lowest points there can be magical moments that maybe you wouldn't even experience if you weren't in that low point... It's something to hold onto when my own depression gets bad. Also teared up during the chapter about her fights with the insurance company that apparently didn't think the medication that kept her away from suicide was 'essential' (I really hate that's an all-too-common fight for people in the United States...). And then there are the hilarious chapters like the one that ponders 'how do dogs know they have penises?' and the ridiculously-inappropriate Shark Tank business pitch ideas. If you aren't already familiar with Jenny's unique brand of humor some of it might seem pretty over the top, but that's kind of just who she is. I have a hardcover copy as well as the audiobook, and I must say the audiobook adds *so* much to the experience simply by hearing the way she reads the passages.

[mcelhra · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

If you’ve read Jenny Lawson’s previous books or follow her blog, The Bloggess, then you know that she suffers from mental illness, including depression and has chronic physical health issues as well. In Broken, Jenny shares her experiences in only the way that she can – with brutal honesty and complete hilarity. I appreciate that book is organized so that the more serious essays are interspersed with the funny essays so that the book never gets too heavy. She lays herself bare in some of the more serious essays, she hasn’t been quite this raw in her other books. Everyone will relate to her chapter about her experience with her insurance company. Ugh.Once again, she had me laughing so hard my cheeks hurt at some of her stories, especially when her husband Victor is involved. Although, the tables were turned in one of them – she was the one behaving sensibly and he was the irrational animal lover. It was fun to see that side of him.Even if you haven’t heard of Jenny, you will love this book. And if you suffer from chronic or mental illness, Jenny will make you feel like you are not alone. Highly, highly recommended.

[aliceap-1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As long-time readers of the blog may know I'm a huge fan of Jenny Lawson (go here and here for my thoughts on her other books) so it was pretty much a no-brainer to pick up an early review copy of her newest book Broken (In the Best Possible Way). Like her other two books, Lawson tells stories from her past (growing up, her relationship with her husband, hiding from delivery people, etc) with a heavy dose of gallows humor. (If you're squeamish or unable to play Cards Against Humanity then you're not going to vibe with Jenny which is a daggum shame.) There are a lot of reasons why I absolutely adore Jenny but probably the biggest is that she tackles the tough topics of mental health while cracking these macabre jokes which are 100% up my alley. (You already know I'm death positive so of course jokes about death are my life blood.) She doesn't shy away from delving into those dark places that people who suffer from depression and anxiety dwell and she doesn't sugarcoat her continuing struggles. I do want to sound a note of caution that if you suffer from any mental health issues and are easily triggered by talk on this subject (or on the subject of suicide) then you might want to sip Jenny's book instead of gulping it down. (No idea why I turned this into a drinking metaphor.) But I do think it is worth your time because it is always so comforting to read about someone else fighting the same demons as yourself. (And you don't want to miss out on the laugh-out-loud moments that this book is saturated with because they are comedy gold.) Another hole-in-one homerun through the goal posts.

[gismcxc · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I love Jenny Lawson so much. The way she shares helps you laugh at life's painful things -- and wraps you in enormous hugs of feeling that you're going to be alright.It's the most wonderful brain vacation to fall into her books for a couple of days and be in that land of weird and happy.