Saved by Laughter

Why is it that pain is hilarious, sometimes?

I was living in a black fog and I hurt all the time. Everyone hated me. I didn’t do anything useful for anyone—not my family, not my friends, not my work. My family would have been better off without me. I was evil and useless. My friends—well, they had already disappeared. They knew what they were doing. Work? I don’t know. I didn’t do a thing for a year or more. I should have been fired, but I wasn’t.

Finally I had enough and I was nearly ready to go, except I didn’t have the courage to do it myself. So I called the one friend I felt I had. She was a friend because she understood. She was depressed, too. She was thinking about checking out, too. I called her to make a deal. We’d do it together.

She started off by saying that bad as she wanted to do it, she couldn’t do that to her kids, and I shouldn’t do it to mine. In my heart, I knew she was right, but I was so miserable I wanted to move forward, anyway.

So we started talking about different ways to do it. Quickly, it began to seem absurd. We came up with all these methods. They got stranger and stranger and we started laughing. And then the next thing I knew, I was laughing so hard, I couldn’t breathe. And this went on and on—twenty minutes; half an hour, maybe more. She’d be unable to stop laughing and I’d just say one word, and she’d be off on the laughing jag again, and then I’d start laughing and she’s say a few words, and I just couldn’t stop.

They say laughter is the best medicine. I think that in this case, laughter saved my life.
wundayatta wundayatta
56-60, M
Aug 3, 2010