The Woman in the Mirror

Lena Dunham's memoir, growing up with help was a memoir that really touched home with me.  I too have gone to a therapist for various reasons in my own life. While reading this memoir of Lena’s I could see myself in areas of frustration and regret when attending a therapist of my own. “I leaving feel worse than when I went in, and my father says it is OK.” This is me on many occasions, why did I go and what did I really get out of wasting my time? 

Caring, understanding and listening is all that I wanted in my own life. Lena’s memoir was all of this as well. Growing up in a family with many different values and dynamics has been not just challenging but in some cases rewarding. Growing up and mainly in high school, I longed for that caring from my family and friends. A longing that would fill the void in my heart of not having that one.  I know I am young thinking about that “one” but knowing how early my parents met and the love they had at one point for each other made me want that “one” early.  Understanding, is what I wanted and still what I am looking for. Some of my friends and family understand me, but not everyone. “ Does she know who I am? Maybe she's jealous. I would be.” This is me many days and nights. Does anyone know who I am, and if they do, do they know who I really am? Do they know what I can do? Do they even care?  But what I long for as well is for someone to listen. Someone to actually say they not only care or understand but want to know what is going on in my own life. 

In many cases, writers can retell a story, but in these memories they do not. Especially in Lena Dunham’s memoir she is more descriptive, showing more of her life through the emotion and the actions that have changed her. The line “ Does she know who I am? Maybe she's jealous. I would be.”, is more a visualization of what she experienced on a daily basis.  I know because this is me. Remembering when I looked into the mirror and asked myself, “ Does he know me?” He says he does but he is not showing me what I want him to show me. I know what she is referring to so many times I ask myself this. There is no need for more details, because each memoir is descriptive enough. Each memoir put me in the story, but Lena’s was more appealing to me. 

The tone of one was more relatable, placing me as the writer not the reader, where the other had the same tone and same descriptive meaning. Truth-telling was a sense that I experienced from both of the memoirs. Lena Dunham's memoir was one that demonstrate honesty and moral empathy.  In “Cousins” Believe me, if I could go back and change the tail-end of those two years, I would do it in a heartbeat.” This shows some truth, but shows more of the emotion of what the author experienced more than truth. Both Cousin’s and Dunham’s memoirs were truth-telling. I personally was more intrigued and felt a sense of relief reading Lena Dunham’s memoir.