It was a Tuesday. I know because Tuesday is trash day, and I’d missed it for the third week in a row. The sink was full. The laundry had achieved sentience. I’d been lying on the couch since 2 p.m. “resting my eyes,” which is what I call it when depression has unplugged me from the wall. My sister texted, “How are you?” I typed “fine,” deleted it, typed “I’m okay,” deleted that too, and finally just sent a thumbs-up emoji, the universal symbol for “please don’t call me.”
That night I started the audiobook of Jenny Lawson’s “How to Be Okay When Nothing Is Okay”, that I’d been postponing. It’s narrated by Jenny herself, and within ten minutes I was laughing so hard on that couch that I startled the cat.
If you know Jenny from her blog, The Bloggess, or from “Let’s Pretend This Never Happened” and “Furiously Happy”, you know she’s spent years writing about living with depression, anxiety and ADHD with brutal honesty and absolutely unhinged humor.
This is her first advice book: more than a hundred small, weird, wonderful tricks that have kept her going on the days when nothing is okay. Hearing them in her own warm, slightly frazzled Texas voice is like getting a phone call from the friend who understands you best.
1. Easy mode still counts
One of her chapters is called “Working on Easy Mode Is Still Working,” and I may tattoo it somewhere. On bad days, you don’t have to do everything. You can do the tiny version. Paper plates. Dry shampoo. Answering one email instead of twelve. Jenny reminds you that getting through the day badly is still getting through the day.
2. Depression lies, so argue back
There’s a whole section about fighting the lies depression tells you: that you’re a burden, that it’ll always feel this way, that nobody would notice if you disappeared. Jenny doesn’t pretend these thoughts aren’t loud. She just teaches you to recognize them as the illness talking, not the truth. On my worst night that week, I said out loud, “That’s the depression lying.” It didn’t fix everything. It helped more than I expected.
3. Your brain needs washing more than your bra
Yes, that’s a real chapter title, “Wash Your Brain More Than You Wash Your Bra,” and it made me spit out my tea. Behind the joke is a serious point: your mind needs regular care, too. Therapy, medication if it helps you, rest, the people and things that make you feel more like yourself. Mental hygiene isn’t optional. It’s maintenance.
4. Celebrate absurdly small victories
Jenny is a firm believer in throwing yourself a tiny party for things the rest of the world doesn’t notice. You showered? Confetti. You returned a phone call? Victory dance. You got out of bed today? Honestly, that might deserve a cake. It sounds silly until you try it and realize you’ve spent years only celebrating the big wins while quietly surviving a hundred small battles.
5. Make something, even if it’s terrible
Some of my favorite parts are about creativity. Jenny insists that making art isn’t just for “real” artists. Doodle. Paint badly. Bedazzle a thrift-store taxidermy deer head if the spirit moves you (she would). Creating something, anything, is a small way of saying “I’m still here” when everything else feels gray.
If you’re struggling right now, this book won’t cure you. Jenny would be the first to tell you that. But it might make you laugh on a day you didn’t think you could, and remind you that you’re not the only one fighting this fight. And if things ever feel too heavy to carry alone, please reach out to someone you trust or a mental health professional.
I loved this book!