Near the end of the show the laughter was coming to a head, I was breathless and my gut was aching from laughing so hard. Then I suddenly found myself fighting tears! Not laughter tears. I felt like having a good cry. It took me all of 5 seconds to realize it was because I just don't laugh anymore. Not like that. And I should. I think everyone should have at least one belly laugh a day.
Hmmm, maybe the term "belly" laugh isn't the best verbiage in my case. I digress.
I was able to stifle it and continue with the raucous laughter. And I have decided to somehow find a way to have a good laugh each day. As Tim Hawkins said in his show, the material is all around us. People are funny. Of course, they are funnier if they tell you jokes and have expressive, rubber faces. But I'll find what I can.
I actually have the opposite problem. I know how snotty this is going to sound, but I am by nature a funny person. It entirely undermines any effort I make to express serious thoughts.
ReplyDeleteFor instance, I literally had a conversation recently in which I had my physician cracking up so much she had to wipe away a few tears. I wasn't even trying to be funny! This was the same conversation in which I told her my depression had gotten bad enough I actually Googled to find out how much Ambien was needed for an overdose. She didn't laugh at that, of course, but that moment felt like an unpleasant downer; a speed bump to be passed on our way back to chuckles. I don't mean to characterize her as insensitive; she is not. But this is representative of many of my daily conversations: I'm naturally too funny to be taken seriously, even when discussing death itself.
Somewhere betwixt you and I lies a healthy balance.