Furiously Happy

Like my grandmother always said, “Your opinions are valid and important. Unless it's some stupid bullshit you're being shitty about, in which case you can just go fuck yourself.”

I genuinely don't have words for how much I adored this book, or how grateful I am to have finally read it. I've been meaning to pick it up for years, and finally did after making a deal with my mother (she would read [b:Finlay Donovan Is Killing It|53138099|Finlay Donovan Is Killing It (Finlay Donovan, #1)|Elle Cosimano|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1604995905l/53138099.SY75.jpg|79311104] if I would read this — we've both been very happy with this deal's outcomes), and honestly, Mom, thank you for harassing me endlessly to read this. You were right. I loved every single page.

Without the dark there isn't light. Without the pain there is no relief. And I remind myself that I'm lucky to be able to feel such great sorrow, and also such great happiness. I can grab on to each moment of joy and live in those moments because I have seen the bright contrast from dark to light and back again. I am privileged to be able to recognize that the sound of laughter is a blessing and a song, and to realize that the bright hours spent with my family and friends are extraordinary treasures to be saved, because those same moments are a medicine, a balm. Those moments are a promise that life is worth fighting for, and that promise is what pulls me through when depression distorts reality and tries to convince me otherwise.

never

“Surprise, motherfucker, there's a dead raccoon in your bed and he wants a snugglin'!”

cried

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