Furiously Happy

by Jenny Lawson

I am very aware of the fact that I’m not right. I know hiding under tables and in bathrooms isn’t normal. I know that I’ve carved out a life that lets me hide when I need to because I wouldn’t survive any other way. I know that when my anxiety attacks hit, my body isn’t actually going to kill me, in spite of how it feels. I know that when I get suicidal thoughts stuck in my head I have to tell someone else who can help because depression is a cunning manipulator. I know that depression lies to you. I know that the few weeks a year when my face feels like a stranger’s mask and nothing but physical pain can bring me back to my body there is a limit to how much I can hurt myself and still be safe in my own bed. I know that I am crazy. And that has made all the difference.