If you devoured Broken by Jenny Lawson for its dark humor weaponizing dysfunction, meet I'm Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy.

If Jenny Lawson taught you that survival stories don't need tidy endings or inspirational platitudes, Jennette McCurdy doubles down on that philosophy with a memoir that weaponizes dysfunction into art. Here's the same unfiltered honesty about mental health wreckage—eating disorders, anxiety spirals, and coping mechanisms that probably shouldn't work but somehow do—wrapped in self-deprecating humor so sharp it draws blood before you realize you're laughing. McCurdy trades taxidermied raccoons for Nickelodeon sets, but the currency remains identical: chaotic relatability that makes your own disasters feel like reasonable life choices.

The title alone is a mic drop, but it's McCurdy's conspiratorial tone—like swapping secrets with someone who actually gets it—that transforms toxic family dynamics into cathartic gold. No wellness influencer vibes, just dark comedy that earns its punchlines through genuine pain.

If you loved laughing through the wreckage with Lawson, McCurdy's absurd anecdotes will feel like coming home to your favorite chaotic friend.