When life gets too big to handle, I like to break it down with laughter. Sometimes it’s totally inappropriate for the situation, but I can’t help it. It’s how I self-medicate. No booze, no drugs, just inappropriate humor.
I agree with Kurt Vonnegut who wrote:
Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion . . . I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.
I believe that on the day we come crawling out of the womb (sorry, that description sounds like something from a Stephen King movie), we are capable of laughter. I love the photograph taken by Julie Hoffman of her daughter, Rose:
Rose is a laugh warrior, a light-bearer, a warrior of joy.
We actually have a choice, you know . . .
Crying and laughing both provide a release, much like the valve on a pressure cooker. But for me laughter is preferable. One reason I choose laughter is because crying makes me look like I just went a couple of rounds with Roy Jones Jr. And I get a headache that lasts for a minimum of four days.
But laughter makes my face flush in a glowy, happy kind of way. Here are a few other things that laughter does for each one of us:
- Our cardiovascular system is exercised as our heart rate and blood pressure rise and fall
- Our heavy breathing creates vigorous air exchange which is like Taebo for our lungs
- Our muscles release tension as they tighten up and relax
- Opiates are released into our blood system, giving us a “laugher’s high,” which is much truer for me than a runner’s high. Even running five miles a day, the only thing I got was shin splints and big calves
This doesn’t mean you laugh at your own dad’s viewing, which I did . . . .
Many of you might want to consider where you choose to laugh. I, unfortunately, do not have the power to stop it. I make ridiculous jokes in elevators – spurred on by the awkwardness of close proximity, silence, and being in a box that could potentially malfunction and plummet us to our death or shoot us out the roof. I know the possibility of an elevator shooting out of the roof is true because I saw it on 20/20.
When my dad passed away many years ago, I joked around at his “viewing.” First of all, I think the juxtaposition of death and viewing is all wrong. I want to to “view” people at Thanksgiving, or at prom, or for dinner.
My favorite part of the experience was the presence of my dad’s brother, Uncle G.K. He had consumed some Grand Marnier since he has the social skills of J.D. Salinger in the dark years. In the receiving line, I heard a woman say, “Your brother was an amazing man.” My Uncle G.K. leaned forward with his Grand Marnier breath and said, “So I’ve heard.”
Awesome. Laughter ensued, and it made everything lighter.
Don’t get me wrong, I cry too . . .
Crying is important and shouldn’t be suppressed, but at some point continued crying isn’t healthy. We have to put what we cry about in perspective so that we can carry on and bring light to others.
Tears keep us introverted, but laughter takes our joy and shotguns it into the world like a thousand little lights.
And we need more light these days.
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So true, as always!
Thank you, Melissa!
I learned a trigger mechanism years ago that always works for me – especially when you do not “feel” like laughing.
Simply get up close to a mirror and stare into it. The only rule – Don’t leave until you laugh. Try it!
Eventually you realize how silly staring at your serious face is and you begin to laugh at and with yourself.
Brian – I tried this this morning, and it worked!! Thanks for the wonderful suggestion.
Interesting that I came across this blog tonight. The past 6 weeks or so, my 25 year old son had been going through a difficult personal crisis. He slipped into a deep depression and things were very dark for awhile. I was there for him, staying strong, giving encouragement, helping him in ways I hadn’t done since he was a teen. During Thanksgiving, we took a week vacation and met my husbands family for our annual reunion. My son was so much better, laughing, talking, being active again.
When we got home from vacation, my husband and I both fell ill with the flu. We have been sick most of the week, and exhausted. Tonight, I took 2 Benadryl to dry up my sinuses with the pleasant side effect of making me sleepy. I went to bed a few minutes after my husband. He like to kick and mov around the blankets, and sure enough, when I got into bed, the blankets were all twisted at the bottom of the bed. I gave the blankets a tug, and they wouldn’t budge. I tugged harder, and I lost my grip and my hand smacked me right in the nose. I saw stars. All of a sudden, I started to cry. The last 6 weeks just came pouring out in a flood. I had been so strong for so long, and all it took was a little physical pain to trigger the tears. I was trying not to cry, so my husband wouldn’t wake up, but to no avail. Then I heard his stomach gurgling in a most bizarre way (likely from the antibiotics he is on, which cause digestive upset). I began to laugh rather maniacally, still trying to stifle it. I alternated between crying and laughing. I knew he wouldn’t understand, so I didn’t want to discuss it. I finally got up and went downstairs so I could cry (and laugh) in peace.
I binged “crying and laughing.” That is how I came upon this blog.
Lois: Thank you so much for sharing. I have always found that it’s something small that drives me to tears. I remember when my dad died . . . I held it together until I dropped my favorite pen down a vent. That’s when I fell to pieces. And laughing and crying are close cousins, both intended to rid us of stress. What a great story — and I’m so glad you came upon this blog. The universe takes care of us in wonderful, synchronistic ways!
I should mention that I’m a psychotherapist, so I have a very heavy, deeply emotional job.
Sorry for the typos above. It’s late and I’m very tired.
Never apologize for typos. Otherwise, I have to. 🙂