Reading tends to be very “all or nothing” for me—I’m either totally consumed, turning pages for hours on end and ignoring the world around me and internal cues for food or sleep until I’m done, or I’m noncommittal, absent-mindedly skimming paragraphs until I inevitably abandon it to collect dust on my nightstand with all of the other “I’ve been meaning to finish that!” novels. To me, the sign of a good book is not “I can’t put it down until I KNOW what happens!” and it’s not “I’ll finish it eventually, if I have the time.” It’s that healthy middle ground, much like romantic relationships. Neither codependence (“I can’t live without you!”) nor too much independence (“I’m not even interested in connecting with you”) is consistently satisfying.
Perhaps you’ll find it ironic that I was able to enjoy a book about codependency while (for once) maintaining my healthy dependence and independence needs. As a story, it contained just enough psych-y content to appeal to my inner nerd, and just enough comedy to appeal to my inner self-care coach. It was engaging, satisfying, but not so consuming that I lost all ability to stay connected to my own priorities and identity. As far as book-relationships go, “I’m Fine” quickly became a lasting, rewarding love. So I wanted to share the love, by writing my first-ever book review. Here goes!
In case you’re not familiar with her work, Whitney Cummings writes, produces, and does stand-up comedy. I’ve been a big fan of hers for several years. What’s always endeared her to me is her tendency to “plug” therapy (thanks for the free marketing, girl!) and to use humor as a way of coping with the dysfunctions of the human condition.
A lot of memoir-type books I’ve read have bugged me (and ended up as ex-lovers in the dusty nightstand pile) because the author tries too hard to sound self-actualized, taking on an annoying “wannabe-wise” tone in an effort to artfully conclude the general storyline of “I used to be naïve in how I handled life, and then I overcame some challenges.” Whitney writes like she’s in her 30s, and she is in her 30s. She’s not pretending like she’s 80 years old and has it all figured out, nor is she dwelling in adolescent insecurities. She takes semi-frequent breaks from her “I used to be so clueless” shtick to actually give herself credit for the growth and insights she has worked to gain, but she doesn’t succumb to the urge to tie it up neatly with a happily-ever-after type ending.
Whitney (I can’t bring myself to get formal and call her Ms. Cummings, sorry) demonstrates what happens when someone moves from being a blind, passive recipient of life experiences to being a self-aware, active shaper of her own reality through intentional choices. As a psychologist, I am grateful for her honest account of her experiences with several types of therapies. She also admits several times that she often rejected an idea or treatment approach (especially in her adolescence and early 20’s) because she wasn’t yet ready to have her defenses challenged. THANK YOU FOR OWNING THIS! I get so irritated when people say, “I tried therapy, but it didn’t work for me.” People, it works if you work it! So if someone’s in denial, nothing’s gonna change. Psychologists aren’t psychics or magicians. Though Whitney has apparently tried her hand at consulting psychics and magicians, too, which made for some fascinating early chapters. Anyway, I digress.
I also enjoyed her evaluations of what worked and didn’t work for her in the process of healing from various hurts. After all, mental health treatment is not one-size-fits-all. There are so many theoretical models and approaches out there. Vera, the therapist with whom she ended up finally forming a meaningful therapeutic relationship, sounded like a total badass; she was clinically well-versed, and fluent in Whitney’s language, helping her recognize the “addictive” patterns of her codependency and eating disorders.
Self-acceptance is a major theme in “I’m Fine.” Whitney’s exploration of how she developed and then healed from an eating disorder will hopefully shed light on an often-misunderstood constellation of symptoms, and the unhelpful thinking and mixed messages that are so easily internalized. Her honesty about struggles with “ED” is beyond refreshing. The media masterfully perpetuates an absurd mixed message, glorifying the woman who acts so totally chill and just LOOOVES eating carbs, and yet is constantly pulling up the waistband of her roomy size zero jeans, equating slimness with chillness and worthiness. I have lots to say about this ridiculousness, but I will have to save my rant for another time to stay on topic.
My point is, Whitney doesn’t fall for the BS of mixed messages and she actually talks about the monster life-sucker that is the “quest for physical perfection.” She calls herself out for sometimes buying into a disempowering cultural norm, and gives us all a reality check in the process. Her overall message is that it’s not only allowed, but truly vital for us all to meet our own basic human needs for food, water, love, and self-respect.
Speaking of basic human needs, Whitney also gives a shout-out to “inner-child work,” which is an element of therapy that can be so powerful in developing self-esteem. Basically, the premise is that humans actually age like trees. Remember how they taught us in school about how to tell how old a tree is? When you cut the trunk horizontally, you can see all of the “rings” in its cross-section. Each ring grows around the one within it as the tree ages. We’re like trees; every age contains every previous age within it. If we go down really deep, we’re all housing an inner five-year-old. When there’s a control-type issue (addiction, eating, OCD, perfectionism), it can often be traced to unmet childhood needs, so the inner child is still scrambling to get “adult you’s” attention.
In Whitney’s case, she learned to deny her needs from a young age, so as an adult she only felt in control if she was denying her needs. She learned that this was the only way to be worthy of love and belonging. For example, food is a basic need. Believing it is “bad” or “wrong” to eat is not only self-destructive, it’s downright mean. When she learned to “re-parent” her inner five-year-old, she was able to live more wholly and let go of old insecurities. That’s why I love this framework: most people can get on board with the fact that it’s pretty atrocious to act like an asshole towards a five-year-old. When you start to see that’s what you’ve been doing by self-punishing (forcing yourself to exercise, cursing yourself for eating the extra slice of pizza, forcing yourself to stay at the office till 11pm instead of getting much-needed sleep) you’re more inclined to soften up. A five-year-old doesn’t care about her weight; she just wants to enjoy life. She doesn’t care about your promotion at work; she just wants you to come home and play with her. We can all benefit from the reminder that we’ve each got a little kid living inside of us, just looking for love and acceptance, so we don’t need to be so damn hard on ourselves or each other.
One area left me wanting more: I still have so many questions about the specifics of her childhood. If she had chosen to share more details about what went down in her early childhood, it could have given the reader a richer picture of how her core beliefs were shaped. However, at the end of the day, my insatiable curiosity about the human condition aside, she certainly exposed insecurities and fears that most of us lack the courage to reveal, so I can’t blame her for choosing to gloss over some details. She gave us enough info to connect the dots, and I respect her decision to not be a completely open book. Yeah, pun intended, I couldn’t resist 🙂
I often struggle as a relatively young psychologist with “imposter syndrome,” fantasizing about the day when I’ll feel like an “expert.” Stories like Whitney’s remind me that I actually hope the opposite is true. I hope I never wake up one day thinking I know exactly how to handle things. That would feel robotic. I’m human and therefore I’m a messy work in progress. I struggle to practice what I preach. I get whispers from the demons in my head. I get caught up thinking I need to be “fine,” and thinking it’s my job to make other people “fine” as well, which it’s obviously not. Insecurity and self-doubt are all just part of the deal, and that’s okay.
“I’m Fine” is a hilarious and raw reminder that life gets ten billion times more rewarding when you stop pretending to be fine. I hope this book will serve as an example of the awesomeness that can come from authenticity, owning your shit, and opening up about mental health struggles. If you read it and want to share your reactions, please feel free to do so in the comments below! Oh, and if this book made you realize you’re not “fine” or it inspired you to seek therapy, I’m here for that, too.