Jenny Lawson is broken, but in the best possible way – according to her latest book, that is. The New York Times bestselling memoirist is known not for her physical and mental health issues, but how she copes, using an unapologetic combination of sardonic wit and a hysterically skewed outlook on life. Her 2021 release Broken is easily her most personal book yet, chronicling the ups and downs of her life through a collection of essays that hold nothing back. Here, she gets candid on all things humour and health following her sessions at the 2022 Emirates Airline Festival of Literature. Listen in.
Q
Mark Twain famously said, “Humour is tragedy plus time.” Is time the ingredient that helps you see the humour in a challenging situation or something else?
A
Personally, I’ve found that being able to laugh at terrible things as they are happening is a wonderful tool – if it works. There’s something about laughing at monstrous things that makes them somehow smaller and more manageable. It sounds strange, but my sister and I always end up giggling at funerals. In fact, we tend to laugh the most at the ones that are the hardest to be at, but I think that’s because laughing is such a wonderful way to counter terrible pain. The more I mourn something, the more I have to find a way to smile about what I’m mourning so that it doesn’t destroy me, so I guess I will consider myself a great success in life if there are people laughing hysterically at my funeral.
Q
Your ability to put a light spin on a heavy subject has become a signature of sorts. What’s your earliest memory of using humour as a coping mechanism?
A
I’m not sure, but I do remember when I was about seven, my dad had to write a note to let me out of class early. We ended up creating a ransom note offering to exchange my teacher’s mother for me (at 2pm so I could go to the dentist), and I remember being absolutely delighted at how ridiculous it was and wondering why grown-ups didn’t always do these insane sorts of things. I vowed to always try to be ridiculous whenever I could, and it has served me (moderately) well. There’s enough darkness in the world, so sometimes, you have to take back joy in extraordinarily silly ways to counter it.
Q
Around the world, access to mental health resources remains a luxury, which is why your An Open Letter to My Health Insurance Company essay resonated with so many. What did the process of fighting for adequate coverage teach you about yourself?
A
It taught me that, in spite of what the insurance company seems to think, I am worth fighting for. It taught me that depression tells you terrible lies about your worth, but that just because healthcare and coverage doesn’t come easy, it doesn’t mean that I’m not worth the time and effort. I’ve learnt that it’s okay to ask for help, and that includes asking for help from friends or family because when you’re in severe depression, you often don’t have the energy to fight for yourself.
Q
Mental health is no laughing matter, but laughter has been proven to do everything from boost mood to diminish pain. Is laughing in the face of adversity a value that you’ve instilled in your teenage child, Hailey?
A
One thing that I’ve learnt is that not everyone deals with struggle in the same way that I do so, especially during the dramatic teenage years. I had to make sure Hailey understood that my way of dealing with things through humour didn’t mean that I was discounting how difficult or serious things can be. Just because that’s the healthiest way for me to deal with things doesn’t mean it’s the best way to parent because each kid is so unique in their needs. Luckily, Hailey has inherited a lot of our strange sense of humour, so we often find ourselves laughing at awkward situations and that makes it easier to discuss hard things.
Q
You’ve addressed the overwhelming anxiety that comes with the responsibility of being a parent. Any advice for women who are first-time moms during such a socially isolated time?
A
It gets easier. And then harder. And then easier again. I discovered blogging when Hailey was a few years old and that really helped me to find other parents I could identify with. It is a really isolating time, but there are a lot of online resources that help. One of the best things I’ve learnt is that whatever decision you make is the right one for your child because you are their parent. Unfortunately, whatever decision you make is probably also the wrong one in some way, but in the end, it all works out. And if you screw up? It just teaches your kid that it’s okay to make mistakes.
When Hailey was young and my depression was terrible, the only thing I could do was sit on the couch and watch Doctor Who episodes with them. And I felt awful because other moms were making organic dinners and setting up playdates and doing laundry. I was just trying to breathe and waiting for myself to come back. But when Hailey was older and I apologised for those periods, they thought I was insane because they only remembered how I was spending time with them instead of cooking or visiting friends. What I thought was failure ended up being a wonderful memory for my kid. We need to give ourselves credit for the things we don’t even realise we’re doing.
Q
Yet another side effect of the pandemic is that we’re a lot more socially awkward than we were in the past. As a self-professed introvert, is there a sense of relief that comes with those dynamics?
A
This pandemic is a marathon of isolation that I’ve been training for my entire life. Honestly, I sort of love that I don’t have to make excuses to avoid parties and awkward interactions. That said, I did have some dark times in the past two years where I thought I was going to go a little stir-crazy. We ended up doing a lot of serial-killer-escape-rooms-in-a-box and I literally read hundreds of books because that was the best way I could escape into another world that wasn’t my house. Now that we’re all vaccinated and more likely to get out, I’ve sort of become even more socially out-of-shape than before. I love to see old family and friends, but after 30 minutes, I need a break to catch my breath. It’s a little embarrassing.
Q
Not all your fans were privy to the bonus chapter of Broken, which chronicles your life in quarantine. Can you give us a glimpse of how that has changed since 2020?
A
It changes from day to day, but the biggest difference is that I started a bookstore called Nowhere Bookshop. I literally opened it as the pandemic began. We couldn’t open the doors because it was too dangerous for our staff, so we did online orders and curbside book delivery. We also started a monthly book club called The Fantastic Strangelings and became (I suspect) the longest running bookstore that had never actually opened its doors to customers. Luckily, we eventually all got vaccinated and now we’re finally open. I spend a lot of time reading advance copies of new books because picking titles for the books club is pretty much my favourite thing. That book club saved the store and, in some ways, it’s still saving my sanity.
Q
Sometimes, it’s easier to confide in or lean on complete strangers, and your thriving Twitter community is proof. Can you share a recent anecdote or example of how it has helped you through a particularly dark moment?
A
It’s not unusual to be struggling with anxiety at 3am, but I know if I reach out on Twitter – even when I’m feeling incredibly alone – there will be people who immediately tweet back that they’re also awake wondering why they said that dumb thing in 6th grade or whatever else is haunting them. And for some reason, it’s comforting when you realise you aren’t alone. Also, there’s something about telling other people it’s all okay and they should go to sleep that makes you think that maybe it’s also all okay for you and that you can go to sleep as well.
Q
You’ve frequently credited reading for helping you through the pandemic. Which three books can we turn to for our own diminishing sanity levels?
A
Oh gosh, I don’t think I could narrow it down to three. Some of my most recent favourite escape-from-my-head-books are Still Life by Sarah Winman, Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia, A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik, and Meaty by Samantha Irby. Oh, and The Witch’s Heart by Genevieve Gornichec. And The Midnight Library by Matt Haig. And Madhouse at the End of the Earth. You should stop me now because I could talk about books all day.
Q
Written notes have played a special role in your life – from your mom leaving them in your lunchbox to remind you everything was okay to connecting with classmates at a time of social anxiety. Can your experience carry over into the smartphone era? Can a tweet or text ever replace the magic of a written note passed discreetly in class?
A
That’s such a good question. I think electronic notes can absolutely make an impact and I am so incredibly lucky that texting exists because I have a fear of the phone, so it makes it much easier for me to talk to people without actually talking to people. But I also don’t think it’s a substitute for an ephemeral, handwritten note. You know, someone came into my bookshop and set up a little station at the bar with coloured paper, pens, and a little sign asking people to leave a kind note to a stranger and encouraging people to take home a kind note from a stranger.
I would see people spend an hour going through all of the colourful notes left all over the bar, and I didn’t blame them – I did the same thing. Sometimes, they were confessions or words of encouragement or funny stories. I noticed that people left them, but seldom took them, probably because they wanted others to enjoy them. In the end, we had so many that we started tucking them into books as we shipped them out so people would find a little secret note from a stranger. That’s the kind of magic that makes the world go around.
