I’m Glad My Mom Died

It’s rough to recognize what child stars have to go through, and worse when it’s one you saw growing up with during your life. To be aware of the pressure, abuse, and psychological damage of being a big name actor, when you’re living as a normal everyday person, it’s hard to wrap your head around., Jennette does a fantastic job of writing it all out, not just about the career she didn’t want in the first place, but the aftermath of dealing with a narcissistic, abusive parent. Not just with how genuine and blunt her recounting is, but with how sincere and honest her mindset is. What it was like to be a mediator as a young child in an emotionally unstable household revolving around the mood of one emotional timebomb. How family rationalizes abuse when it’s all you’ve ever known. When mental illness or eating disorders develop and abusers control the narratives in their favor to make you the emotional punching bag and their anchor all in one., I loved her writing from start to finish not just because of how it resonated, but because this felt so vulnerable and incredible, like watching a champion howling at a turbulent storm, a small human in the face of a giant, and you half expect them to grab hold of the whirlwind and throw it into the sun., I’m glad I read this. I’m really glad she got through it all. Every chapter was like a short story, a theme to highlight, a moment in time of relevance and powerful ripples through her life. It added, expanded, and grew her character that I almost forgot I was reading a memoir, and I had to pause whenever I did. Someone real felt these things, thought these things, triumphed over these trials, and it doesn’t always end that way, with a conclusion that beings peace, but if ever there was a protagonist, a hero that I rooted for from start to finish, it was Jennette., Thank, Jennette. I hope to read more of your work in the future.

I’m significantly older than the iCarly crowd; my children, too young. As it wasn’t a staple in our household, I’d only seen a few episodes. I do remember really liking Miranda Kerr, perfectly cast as the smart ,ambitious girl, was very likable, even from an adult standpoint. But my favorite was Jennette McCurdy. Sam spoke, not only to the rebel in us all, but to the bigger picture. She was completely unaffected, unapologetic and downright comfortable in her skin., How McCurdy pulls this off, amidst being sexually and emotionally abused by a mother, who put her in the position of family breadwinner (at age eight) is incomprehensible. Tragic irony is all we can see, as she’s capitulated to stardom in the role of the comedian., Apparently, it wasn’t enough for McCurdy’s mother to sexually and emotionally traumatize her: in the purest form of dysfunction, McCurdy’s mother teaches her the fine points of anorexia. And under the guise of being a supportive mother, she tells McCurdy (as she’s entering puberty) that she must look as young as possible. Only severe calorie restriction would stop her from growing quickly, and expand her chances at being cast. She even sets a goal weight for her (now-teenaged) daughter:, 89 lbs., But the real genius of this book is that McCurdy speaks in the voice of the child she was and, painfully, still seems to be. How could she not? Her life stopped at the age of eight, when she realized the one person she should have been able to trust the most, was the person trying to destroy her. McCurdy gives us all the details and leaves them there for us to either accept or reject. Her credibility never waivers and she lays everything bare as it pertains to herself., It’s a graphic novel. It’s hard to read, at times. I recognized myself as the daughter who only wanted her mother to be happy and proud of her. The daughter that just wanted to be enough., But the flipside was that I found it impossible to read this book and suspend any self-examination of myself as a mother. I’ve used tears to guilt-trip and manipulate my kids, justifying my behavior by wallowing in the (preferred) state of denial and excuses. It was OK, because it was for their own good. But McCurdy reminds us that the power wielded by mothers is immeasurable, and that the same love and devotion we use to nurture our children and keep them safe can also be used to destroy them. It’s sort of like an avalanche; we kick a small rock at the top, forgetting what it gathers up on the way down, and how it ends., Being a mother can be the best or worst job in the world, sometimes changing hourly. McCurdy is right when she observes that any and all mothers are automatically perceived, as Saints (I always figured it was because women need some motivation to procreate-instant deification seems a good start). However, McCurdy rails against this societal dogma, and she’s right to do so. We don’t deserve anything for making the choice to become a mother. If anything, we set ourselves up for the hardest job imaginable, yet are guilty of treating it, as an afterthought .No one can really tell us how to do it and the benefits are never certain. But we signed up for it. We are reminded of our obligation to our children, as we see things fall apart for McCurdy, and we realize that her story is a cautionary tale in every way.