Laugh About It

Did you know there are people out there who not only cannot make a joke but also can't appreciate one? It's true; I've even met a few of them. Now, without passing judgment I feel compelled to try and out myself in those tedious shoes and I have a hard time of it.  I can empathize with nearly everyone, but the humorless—I just don't get them.  My sense of humor is right up there on the importance scale.  It's a huge part of my identity.  How does anyone get along without it?  

Do you know what I think the secret to surviving anything is? Two things: Forgive and Laugh. Forgiveness is part of the healing process when bad things happen and a necessary part too. You can't move on from your pain until you can forgive the person or thing that has caused it. But laughter, well, laughter is something else entirely.

Laughter lifts you out of the pain, sets you apart from it and gives you a different perspective on your situation. Laughter frees you to say, How can I be angry at/afraid of /hurt by someone or something as ridiculous as this?! I'm done here.

Being able to laugh can save you from ever getting hurt to begin with. Not always, but often enough to make developing a healthy sense of humor well worth the effort in whatever form that takes.  Maybe for you it's listening to some great stand-up comedians and learning to tell a few jokes of your own.  Maybe it's reading humorous observational works and learning to make your own funny observations.  Pick something and start experimenting if you find yourself underdeveloped in the realm of wit and tomfoolery.

I think I must have inherited my joke telling from my dad. We had hard times, but we hardly noticed because we were always laughing together. When the holidays rolled around and we had an awful family get together with the snobs who always made fun of how little money we had or the holes in my clothes? We laughed at them the whole car ride home. Those are some of my best memories of the holidays.

When the mean girls picked on me in school and I came home crying he'd say something like, “which girl? The one with the woodchuck teeth or the one who falls down when she chews gum?” Suddenly those perfect girls didn't seem perfect, they seemed like regular people with flaws of their own. I couldn't take their comments seriously after seeing them in that light and they lost that power over me.

My dad taught us to laugh at the bullies and the bad days. He taught us to laugh together and yes, even how to laugh at ourselves. I think I most appreciate that lesson. Laughing at myself has kept me honest, it has kept me humble. 

I'm not perfect and I don't want to be. Too much pressure and not enough payoff if you ask me.  I would much rather be a clown, stumbling along, laughing all the way and maybe making a few other people laugh too while I'm at it.

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