Rouge Swans and Depression, Furiously Happy Shows Us How to Laugh Through it All.
Rogue Swans and Depression, Furiously Happy Shows Us How to Laugh Through it All.
September 2025!
Holy moly, Furiously Happy is a wild ride 🎢! I was not prepared for what it would become — especially for me personally 💭. You know that phrase “I wish I were a fly on the wall” 🪰, referring to listening in on conversations without influencing them? That’s exactly what this book feels like. It’s wonderfully quirky (think conversations with taxidermied friends 🦝 and grazed geese 🦆) and it makes you feel like you’re peeking into someone’s life in the most authentic and vulnerable way 🌟.
I’ve never read something that made me feel so comfortable just being me 🙌. Jenny (I hope it’s okay to call her by her first name 😉) takes us on an adventure of how she “connects the dots” ✍️and the wild hijinks that come with it 🎭. I’m completely enamored 💖 by her ability to capture the seriousness and debilitating aspects of depression 😔 in just a few chapters, without the book feeling overwhelming by the gravity of the struggle. Her writing lets you understand the undercurrent 🌊of depression while still reminding you that life is meant to be lived 🎶 — beating to our own drum 🥁 and embracing authenticity 🌱. Or, one might say… living Comfortably Human (see what I did there!).
Depression doesn’t come with a user manual 📖 — and it rarely shows up the same way twice. It can drag on as one long episode or show up in recurring waves 🌊 like some unwelcome houseguest who won’t take the hint 🚪. The layers of emotions and self-beliefs it piles on can feel impossible to untangle 🧩. Depression itself isn’t quirky or funny. It’s heavy, isolating, and often debilitating.
And yet, what Jenny does in Furiously Happy is brilliant — she proves that even in the weight, we can still find absurdity 😂, connection 🤝, and those sparks of joy ✨ that remind us we’re alive. Reading this book feels like getting permission to laugh in the middle of the darkness — not because depression is funny, but because humor can be a lifeline 🛟. It’s proof that we can carry both: the pain and the punchlines. (Kind of like how being a mom magically means bringing in all the grocery bags in one trip 💪🛍️, not caring that the milk jug is dangling from your pinky like a medieval torture device 🥛😅).
People often inappropriately label depression as laziness or weakness, but that’s simply not true. That’s stigma talking, and stigma has the accuracy of a toddler throwing darts 🎯👶. We already fight enough with our own self-beliefs; we don’t need to carry the weight of other people’s opinions too.
Here’s the thing: when depression is loud, sometimes getting out of bed 🛏️ is the best you can do — and that is OKAY. Let me repeat that for the folks in the back 🔊: it is okay if all you manage some days is what feels like the bare minimum. That’s not failing; that’s self-care ❤️. Meeting your needs in the moment is valid, even if those needs are “lie still and keep breathing.” Nobody else gets to decide those needs but you.
And that’s why this book is so fitting with Comfortably Human — because it reminds us that even in the mess, we’re still allowed to be fully ourselves. We can be both struggling and silly 🤪, both broken and bright 🌟, both curled up in bed and still carrying hope 🌈. Whether what makes you smile so big your face hurts is a stuffed raccoon 🦝 or something more traditional, this book reminded me of one thing: be the most authentic version of you — and that is always enough.
So go out and make the day yours ☀️, or stay in and enjoy resting your eyelids 😴. Either way, make it intentional — and as Jenny would say, do it Furiously Happy! 🎉💜