No Laughing Matter

I’ve been writing over the last two days using humour. Mostly laughing at myself and situations I’ve found myself in, the lighter moments and foibles of a life. That prompted someone to ask me how I can laugh, how I can find humour in life when the world is in a such a perilous state. How indeed.

I didn’t always know how to use humour and laughter as coping mechanisms. I learned that from going through hard, difficult experiences and realizing that there are things I can control and there are things that are out of my control. I learned to choose what I can control and let go of what I cannot.

I’ve had to give too many eulogies and in crafting the words I needed to say to express sorrow, to express empathy and to remember who the person was that I was honouring, as I’d start making notes of things I wanted to be sure to include, memories that I had shared with that person would rise to the surface. Memories where we laughed uncontrollably, where this unique individual found slap stick and pies in the face uproariously funny or the escapades another would get into with her driving made me realize that these stories made up as much of the personality as the good works they did or the way they made the best ham sandwich. Speaking the stories to those in attendance I could see them relax. Their respectful laughter at these tales, and nods of the heads showed me – we want to feel that release when we are stressed or in the depths of grief. As if we need permission to enjoy those lighter moments at a solemn occasion. Afterwards I’d be met by fellow mourners who told me about funny moments they had shared with the deceased.

The biggest realization arrived for me when I was undergoing two years of treatment for cancer. The entire situation was out of my control. My body had done something I couldn’t see or prepare for. From the moment I had the mammogram that shook my world, I was placed on a conveyor belt of appointments, tests, biopsies, surgeries, chemotherapy, radiation and a “wonder drug” that I give thanks for every day. I put my life in the hands of experienced, educated professionals. I had to trust that they knew exactly what they were doing for me, the hamster on their wheel. But I was not passive. I asked copious questions, I watched and listened and learned. I put my faith in everything I could not see be that angels, or spirits or guides or whatever creator might be watching out over me.

And then, while all of this was taking place, I remembered to get on with living my life. I had two children to walk through all of this and adhering to a schedule that we’d been keeping to before our world tilted was the most important thing that I could do - for them and for myself. I saw them off to school and drove them to their extra-curricular activities. I fed us all, and even when the food tasted of nothing to me – I still made the foods they loved. We took trips, mostly for sports tournaments but we made sure to vacation. My children were old enough to understand the situation and the risks, but they also knew that we could get into arguments, settle a dispute, be held accountable for homework or a missed deadline, and find funny films to watch.

I bought all of us those fake glasses with bushy eyebrows and big noses. On the tough days, and there were some very deeply dark days, we’d throw those on, put on funny voices and the boys would each take a turn wearing my wig. They looked adorable. And they’d be on the floor in hysterics. Laughter releases endorphins – a natural mood elevator. It didn’t make the worry, the sadness or the stress disappear. It gave us all some moments of respite from the unknown that stretched before us.

I made this comment yesterday. We are like sponges. We read, we hear and we absorb the news that happens around us, whether that’s in the media, on social media or from a conversation with a relative or friend who is going through a difficult time in their life. If we have empathy, we absorb it even more deeply. But we reach a saturation point where not one more drop of hard news, of caring, concern or worry can be taken on board. And that’s when the release is important. The ability to find something humorous to laugh about. It’s like wringing out the sponge so that it has the capacity to absorb once more.

Nothing about what is happening in the world right now is funny. It’s sad, dangerous, frightening, enraging and unpredictable. I am in no position to make any change to the outcomes, and I have no control over what has happened or might happen next. I can speak out and empathize.  And I can find ways to alleviate the stress, allowing me to keep my hope and optimism intact.

Daily life carries on even in the most difficult times. Finding balance by being outside in nature, exercising, being creative, and yes, even laughing – any or all of those activities is imperative to weathering any storm.

card given to my son on his last birthday