“It’s a rhetorical question, of course, but I still have plenty of answers to it. What the fuck is wrong with me, above and beyond the…eating disorder and the alcoholism and the creaking knees” and the OCD? “Let me count the fucking ways.”
“I am not mad–or…I am mad, but that is OK, because I’m not bad.” I am a human. “I had a child; I saw the magic of my body; I started eating normally; I stopped drinking and taking drugs; I discovered that exercise was not about the losses, but the gains, and…I did it for how it made me feel rather than how it made me look…I didn’t develop confidence, just a desire not to spend another moment of my precious life hating on my self” and choose happiness instead.
Happy is not “an ending, a destination, a place where you made a mighty effort to get to and then, having made that effort, you got to stay there for the rest of your life.” Happy “is more of a moveable feast, the emotional equivalent of winning an Olympic gold medal and immediately having to start training for the European Championships.”
Bryony Gordon’s Mad Woman is “a shining beacon of sanity in a sea of people who can’t even begin to acknowledge their problems…They spend their entire lives doing everything they can not to look at them…They tell me again and again that they’re not addicts, they’re not alcoholics, they’re not depressed, they’re just fine. Fine. F-I-N-E” is how mental illness is spelled in conversation. “Survival is for people in war zones…Survival is not a viable state” of being. I don’t want to survive, I want to thrive.
“The thing about your generation…is you have a chance. I used to think that meant you had a chance to smash through glass ceilings and have it all, but actually you have a chance to take yourselves seriously. To not dismiss yourselves simply because you happened to have been born with two X chromosomes…We look at unspeakable things and we see them as gifts. We see them glitter. We have learned to pan for gold in the dark.”