Famesick: A Memoir by Lena Dunham - 23

This book was made possible by the support, love, and belief of two men: Bill Clegg—family first and agent second, my love and my luggage—and Andy Ward, my longtime editor, who is a saint in his life but a devil with the red pen. Thank you both for sending books to rehab and cronuts when I couldn’t leave bed and always telling me that it’s okay to stay soft but write hard.

This would also not be possible without my producing partner and 24/7 chick Michael P. Cohen, who makes it entirely possible for me to be a sick woman with a *sick* career. It’s a privilege to navigate this job and this life with such a good-hearted, wise, funny, and rare person. Erez, I’m so sorry I call your husband fifty-seven times a day. I couldn’t love you both more.

My team at CAA—the brave and elegant Maha Dakhil; the swaggiest girl ever to get a master’s in business, Alexandra Trustman; and of course, Bryan Lourd: the last of the true Hollywood gentlemen. You have guided me gently off the beaten path and toward the creative life of my dreams. Thank you.

Gretchen Rush, Huy Nguyen, Matthew Rosengart, Kelly Bush, Rebecca Sides Cappelan, Court Barrett—I’d be so scared of your power if you didn’t always take my side—even when I don’t think I deserve it, you make me feel like I do. Thank you.

The folks at Random House: Julia Harrison, Allison Rich, Erica Gonzalez, Rebecca Berlant, Robert Siek, Richard Elman, Jo Anne Metsch, and Daphne Chiang.

Judd Apatow—I may have grown, but you’ll always be my boss in my head. I love Leslie, Maude, and Iris so much. Thank you for giving me this life that I only briefly took for granted. I know you’re still mad that I fell asleep at that Who concert in 2010. I think it’s finally time to share that my grandma found you sexy.

Matt Wolf, with whom I’ve been in a nonstop dialogue since we met in 2009. You have given me gifts I can name (creepy T-shirts, a Ukrainian dog lamp) and ones too sacred and profound to even utter. You are endlessly fascinating to me. Thank you for the Christmases in the hospital and the adventures into unusual architectural structures and your mind, your teeming mind.

Alissa Bennett, my partner in gossip and in art and in co-sleeping as we listen to Dateline. A true genius, the only dignified lady, and the only real rebel I know. I love you and Ollie and Leigh and Mike.

Scotlan Goldbeck, thank you for showing me loving boundaries, honesty, trust, acceptance, and what sober dignified co-caretaking could mean.

TayTay—you sing the songs I wrote this book to, the stories that pulled these stories out of me, the music that makes the whole world feel seen, and yet somehow, miraculously, you also pick up every desperate call at every desperate hour. I love you so much and forever, for the reasons that everyone does and for reasons all my own.

Russell Brown, my wise, calm, anxious, alert, earnest, snarky brilliant guru of loss and change, joy and irritation, and new beginnings. You taught me the beauty of frailty, the strength of both the body and about all of the things it holds. I’m still trying to let them go, but with you by my side, it hurts a lot less. BTW, remember the night fourteen years ago that I thought we fell in love, even though you were at that party in literal WeHo with your literal boyfriend? Turns out I was right, bitch.

Eternal love and many varied thanks to Saam Emme, Collier Meyerson, Emily Ratajkowski, Roberta Smith, Jerry Saltz, Mathew Weinstein, David Bers, John Avery Newman, Carly Mark, Spike Jonze, Rose Garnett, Zadie Smith, Susanna Fogel, Andrew Scott, Phoebe Waller-Bridge, Alicia Van Couvering, Rashida Jones, Rosa Mercuriadis, Janicza Bravo, Blake Mars, Andrew Rannells, Stanley Brinkley, Monica Heisey, Isabel Halley, Joana Avillez, Audrey Gelman, Emma Chitty, Jesse Barron, Teddy Blanks, Willa Nasitir, Myha’la, Danielle Bartholamew, Pe Ferreira, Natalie Portman, Hari Nef, Merritt Wever, Jenoa Harlow, Tim Bevan, Buuski, Gabor Maté.

Allison, Jemima, Zosia—we will always be the girls, but now—are we the ladies? Thank fucking God we did that together.

Mama, Papa, Cy—I think this book is enough praise for you. But in case you somehow missed it, you’re my tribe, my dream team, and my obsession.

Y a Luis Delfin Attawalpa Saul Felber Rizo Patron. Me alegra mucho que me hayas encontrado después de todo. Me alegra mucho que me hayas encontrado. Gracias por ser el primero en comprender la verdad. Gracias por el regalo de la libertad y de una familia. “I think you’ll find I love you more.”

Ingrid, Cornichon, Elegance, Rhett, Truman, Portia, Smudge, Victor, Cherry, Lila, Leslie, Tammy, and Patsy. Not to mention the animals who are no longer here—Lamby, Gia, Bowie, Dean, Sophia, Thor, India, Guy, Ginger, Morgan, Harper, Chaipau, and so many more. My mostly companions.

It is not hyperbole to say my life was saved by the kindness of strangers—ER doctors and nurses I may never see again but who made a night pass with less pain, who small-talked and talked me off ledges. That one hot pediatrician who told me about his tomato patch, then disappeared from the edge of my cot in the waiting room. People I found while getting sober and then lost track of, or met just once. People I met online and talked about illness with. Not to mention all the mental health professionals and healers. I pray for all of your health, happiness, prosperity, and peace.

And thank you especially to the people who have followed along with my work, making space for me to grow out loud and to keep on doing the only thing that I’m equipped for. I take none of this—or you—for granted. Thank you.