I’m Glad My Mom Died

Image from: Michigan Daily

I'm Glad My Mom Died

By Jeanette McCurdy

3.75/5

Best selling author, Jeanette McCurdy, is on tour for her latest book, I’m Glad My Mom Died, and stopping at my university. It’s the talk of the town, lasting slightly longer than the news cycle of the college campus, until the event is over and the Instagram algorithm replaces the feeds of attendees and FOMO fanatics at home with new pressing posts. Despite not attending her event, I dutifully picked up my copy of the book only to have my reality collide with me like a wall on a pendulum hitting me in the face: there's a lot of truth in my life reflected in this book.

Jeanette’s memoir is a story of terrifying abuse, which is so normalized for many people, that only through reading this novel will you begin to understand how not normal these interactions are. One of Jeanette’s largest struggles is with the constant perfectionism, control and domination that she faces at the hands of her mother. Subtle physical grooming, paired with constant emotional abuse, Jeanette’s mother is simply a personality who relies on Jeanette to be her sole protector, confidant and dependant. “You’re my best friend…Mommy’s best friend” (47), her mother tells her. Paired with the parental shortcomings of finding themselves in the renewed opportunities to live through a child's success, this book is about finding the hard conversations that you felt alone having with yourself, attempting to convince yourself that what you know is what you have so you’ll make the best of it. Reality check, if you feel like something is off, or your body responds through discomfort, it’s wrong for you.

In a harrowing tale of an eating disorder that morphs and changes into an uncontrollable enemy, Jeanette’s awareness for the complexity of supporting one’s family, while also having one’s image tied to her emotions, success and consumption patterns is eye-opening. Not only does Jeanette’s story throw open the doors of Hollywood to just how few protections actually exist for child actors in the industry, but also the free license of parents who put them there. I’m not saying that we should exist in a world devoid of child stars or actors, but maybe we should begin making critical calls to open the exclusive doors of Hollywood that shield these experiences from view. Reading novels like I’m Glad My Mother Died, are the first steps into doing just that.

We watch Jeanette undergo a very visible transition from the passive agreement that she uses to cope with her situation to one where she becomes dark, angry and bitter. The problem that comes brutally apparent is that she was aware of her abuse the entire time. Even as a child, she knew what was right from wrong, just not in any position to do something about it. There were no resources for her to get help, because ultimately, children have no autonomy or power in our system, especially when they are exploited and made ‘talented’ by their families who we believe are there to make them safe.

Later, Jeanette was seemingly ‘lucky’ as she had someone notice the signs of her bulimia eating disorder around the toilet. However, this case represents something that only a fraction of people experience. Most people will never have someone place the ultimatum on them to get treatment, and in that same vein, perhaps the ultimatum will only make things worse, as it is so difficult to truly understand the nuances and intertwined threads of what makes mental illness so hard to treat and so easy to conceal.

As an individual, I found myself identifying extremely closely with Jeanette. The abuse at the hands of others, real signs of mistreatment that are rarely characterized as abuse in common circles are clearly outlined as problematic, and explained in a way that pulls the mask off the manipulation. Jeanette spells out experiences in such a way that are relatable and calls out the behavior as wrong. Personally, I realized numerous times of treatment in my own life where I had felt the discomfort and chosen to ignore it for the complacency of the people who were controlling my. That stops today. Speak up. Heal.

Whether you are a person who has experienced trauma at the hands of another, or an eating disorder, or even are called upon to perform, the empathy that is built by working through a novel like this to understand someone else’s pain and mindset is a critical first step for everyone who looks to live in a modern society. I am so grateful for this novel, and think that anyone can benefit from it. To relate better to someone struggling with an eating disorder, or to read a story written by an individual who was meant to become a writer, this novel is an awareness piece that welcomes in a new dawn.

Thank you, Jeanette. You have opened the floodgates, so that we may all recover together.