Maria Bamford’s “Sure, I’ll Join Your Cult” is an incredible, deeply personal memoir that gives her audience a glimpse into a lifelong struggle with Mental Health. Of course, the indomitable Hollywood types that make it have an impeccable habit of making their personal lives hermetically sealed from that moment on, but in this memoir Bamford hits it all: her childhood and parents, her difficult decade-long rise to fame, her marriage and other relationships, her attendance at no less than ten different twelve-step groups, her devouring of self-help books, and perhaps most notably, her struggles with the battle of the self with so much going on in her “mentals.”
Being a huge fan of Bamford for some time, I truly love the intimacy through which she lays bare the biggest struggles with herself. She is brave, funny, and cool with it, approaching the topic with the transparency and openness that is so desperately needed in our country as we continue to shun the practice of seeking help and gaining any meaningful progress as marriages, lives, children, schools, and every aspect of our public and private lives fall out from under us. Bamford has no qualms about discussing and organizing her story into a cohesive recollection and roadmap for personal growth and meaningful conversations with healthcare providers, friends, and family about medication, sharing one’s struggles, knowing there will be problems but finding an optimistic and constructive future, and knowing it is through truth, relationships, and support where we make the most progress.
And the book is FUNNY. Of course it is, it’s Bamford. A Bamford that pays it forward and almost obsessively recommends her readers to email, tweet, and call her or others to find the help they need (I would not have been surprised to find her phone number at some point. She’s that kind and open.).
I found this book to be deeply personal to me. As the son of a mother who had clear substance abuse issues, depression, bipolar mood disorder, and a traumatic childhood, this showcased a side of my mother’s struggles that I had difficulty understanding. Beyond that, many of my relationships in life have been held hostage by the effects of these and other mood-emotional dysregulation disorders, anxieties, and insecurities that, unless treated, are simply recurring moments of abuse, inconsistency, blame, shame, and horror. This book puts these moments and interactions into perspective that, while they are not solved, at least allow for a better angle through which to display compassion and empathy.
I will continue to love Bamford on the stage. Her standup is hilarious and self-deprecating, her appearances and characters in her collaborations with Tim and Eric are fantastic, and she has shown in these pages to be a truly, truly good person despite her parking ticket problem (but she wants to get better with the entitlement and recognizing others on the planet in moments like that). I was heartbroken to learn of her battles with eating disorders and the moments that ended her or her husband in treatment programs, the ways her parents affected her upbringing and the dynamic between her and her sister, and her overall struggle with just living… But if there are some major takeaways that she presents us with it is that if you keep plugging away and working it (whether it be the steps, the mantras, the affirmations, or even the dreaded workbooks) you will accomplish the goals you set out for yourself. You’re simply going to do it in the timeline and the methodology that works best for you.
You can’t do it alone, though.
If my mother was still around to read this book, I know she would have loved it. I know I do, and I do for her. For the time being, I will take some of the great lessons and jokes and carry them with me, and recommend this to the people that I think could use it the most. The compassion, empathy, and future of our culture rely on us all taking a step back and having the same courage Bamford shows here. If we keep reaching around in the darkness wondering why everyone and everything sucks so much, we won’t get anywhere. A sense of humor, especially a dark one? A requirement.
Garrett Zecker 