Sarah Gormley’s memoir “The Order of Things: A Memoir About Chasing Joy” takes readers on a raw and profound journey through grief, self-discovery, and ultimately finding joy in life’s unexpected moments. The memoir begins with Sarah at 29 years old, desperately trying to figure out “what was wrong with her” despite appearing to have it all together on the outside. This disconnect between her external success and internal turmoil forms the foundation of her story, one that many readers will find painfully relatable.
Her Mother
The core of Sarah’s memoir revolves around her relationship with her mother, whose cancer diagnosis forces Sarah to return home to the family farm. This unexpected detour becomes the catalyst for tremendous personal growth as she navigates the complex emotions of caring for a dying parent while simultaneously discovering her authentic self. The timing of her mother’s illness coincides with Sarah’s own breaking point—a professional career that no longer fulfills her and a personal life marked by self-loathing despite her accomplishments.
Getting Honest
What makes this memoir particularly powerful is Sarah’s unflinching honesty about her perfectionism and its origins. She traces her need for validation back to childhood, specifically a moment when her father became frustrated with her sister over a math problem. This seemingly small incident planted the seed for Sarah’s lifelong pursuit of perfection, as she learned that knowing the right answers equated to making her parents happy. This realization will resonate with many readers who’ve spent years trying to earn conditional love through achievement rather than understanding they deserve unconditional acceptance.
The Perfection Trap
Sarah’s battle with anorexia forms another crucial layer of her story. She describes her eating disorder not as a pursuit of beauty but as a pragmatic decision: “This is what the world wants and what gets rewarded. Therefore, I will be skinny.” The control she felt through denying herself food became a twisted form of success, highlighting how deeply ingrained her need for external validation had become. This section offers important insights into how eating disorders often stem from deeper psychological needs rather than simple vanity.
Finding Love
The memoir takes an unexpected turn when Sarah reconnects with Camillus, her brother’s friend whom she’s known since childhood. Their burgeoning relationship develops against the backdrop of her mother’s declining health, creating a poignant juxtaposition of new love and impending loss. What makes this relationship different from her past romantic failures is that Sarah has finally reached a point where she lacks “the energy to be what I thought other people wanted me to be.” This emotional exhaustion becomes paradoxically liberating, allowing her to be seen and accepted for who she truly is.
The Power of Therapy
Throughout the book, therapy plays a crucial role in Sarah’s transformation. Her therapist David helps her recognize patterns, identify her critical inner voice (which she names after a childhood bully), and slowly build self-acceptance. Sarah’s portrayal of therapy is refreshingly realistic—not as a quick fix but as a circular process that sometimes feels like going nowhere while actually creating profound change. Her description of therapy as “ducks waddling in circles in a pond” rather than “climbing a mountain” perfectly captures this non-linear journey.
Loving Herself
The memoir culminates in Sarah finding her true calling by opening an art gallery after her mother’s passing. This professional pivot represents her embrace of passion over conventional success, marking her independence from external validation. Sarah’s meditation on joy in the final pages reminds readers that finding joy often requires letting go of who we think we should be in order to discover who we truly are. The message is clear: the order of things—life, grief, love, self-discovery—rarely follows our expected timeline, and accepting this disorder might be the key to finding authentic happiness.
