Laughter is Always Possible (Point #5)
Today I am grateful for a fun birthday party for my son Sam and three of his buddies. I am also grateful that we have a great bakery in our town.
Point of clarity #5: "Laughter is always possible."
Laughter is a companion emotion across the range of emotions. And not just nervous laughter when we are talking about the difficult emotions like fear and grief. Real laughter that is healthy, healing, and cathartic.
Here are a couple examples from my cancer experience:
*Two days after my diagnosis, I was attending a meeting where the facilitator asked innocently "Does anyone have anything they want to get off of their chest?" I thought to myself "Sure, I have some cancer right here (pointing to my right breast) that I would like to get rid of." I didn't say it outloud, but I laughed to myself. Some fear was released and the tiniest bit of acceptance took hold.
*Three months later, about two weeks after my first chemo treatment, my head started to itch and my hand running through my hair gathered a good crop. It was time to have it shaved off. My stylist of several years had already agreed to come to our house to do the job. (Thanks Lori! I really appreciated that.) When she arrived, my son (just a 1st grader at the time) sat next to me at the kitchen table, my stepdaughter had the camera, and my husband had the video camera. It was a difficult time, but I am glad today that it is caught on video. What got me through it was my son laughing as Lori first gave me a mohawk cut and them took it from there. My innocent child laughed and said I looked funny. His laughter made it bearable. We all laughed together.
*Nearly a year after my diagnosis, I got a letter from our local clinic reminding me to get my annual mammogram. My surgeries and treatment had been at other facilities, so someone missed the memo that I no longer had breasts to be mammogrammed. (I think I just made up that word.) Someone else may have cried at that point. I laughed. I knew before I even opened the envelope what it was going to be. And I knew that acceptance was coming. I don't miss mammograms either.
And from other recent life experience:
*At the visitation and service for my friend Sheila's brother, there was laughter. Her brother would have appreciated that. Laughter among family and friends over memories. Laughter shared as stories were told. Laughter to take a little bit of the jagged edge off the sharp grief many were feeling.
*Last night Sam and his three friends, and the rest of the family, enjoyed time at Nickelodeon Universe at the Mall of America. if you aren't familiar with it, it is a large indoor amusement park inside one of the largest malls in the world. There was plenty of laughter and the carefree screaming that accompanies carefree amusement park rides.
Laughter is always possible. I think Anne Lamott might say it helps let in air and light.
Point of clarity #5: "Laughter is always possible."
Laughter is a companion emotion across the range of emotions. And not just nervous laughter when we are talking about the difficult emotions like fear and grief. Real laughter that is healthy, healing, and cathartic.
Here are a couple examples from my cancer experience:
*Two days after my diagnosis, I was attending a meeting where the facilitator asked innocently "Does anyone have anything they want to get off of their chest?" I thought to myself "Sure, I have some cancer right here (pointing to my right breast) that I would like to get rid of." I didn't say it outloud, but I laughed to myself. Some fear was released and the tiniest bit of acceptance took hold.
*Three months later, about two weeks after my first chemo treatment, my head started to itch and my hand running through my hair gathered a good crop. It was time to have it shaved off. My stylist of several years had already agreed to come to our house to do the job. (Thanks Lori! I really appreciated that.) When she arrived, my son (just a 1st grader at the time) sat next to me at the kitchen table, my stepdaughter had the camera, and my husband had the video camera. It was a difficult time, but I am glad today that it is caught on video. What got me through it was my son laughing as Lori first gave me a mohawk cut and them took it from there. My innocent child laughed and said I looked funny. His laughter made it bearable. We all laughed together.
*Nearly a year after my diagnosis, I got a letter from our local clinic reminding me to get my annual mammogram. My surgeries and treatment had been at other facilities, so someone missed the memo that I no longer had breasts to be mammogrammed. (I think I just made up that word.) Someone else may have cried at that point. I laughed. I knew before I even opened the envelope what it was going to be. And I knew that acceptance was coming. I don't miss mammograms either.
And from other recent life experience:
*At the visitation and service for my friend Sheila's brother, there was laughter. Her brother would have appreciated that. Laughter among family and friends over memories. Laughter shared as stories were told. Laughter to take a little bit of the jagged edge off the sharp grief many were feeling.
*Last night Sam and his three friends, and the rest of the family, enjoyed time at Nickelodeon Universe at the Mall of America. if you aren't familiar with it, it is a large indoor amusement park inside one of the largest malls in the world. There was plenty of laughter and the carefree screaming that accompanies carefree amusement park rides.
Laughter is always possible. I think Anne Lamott might say it helps let in air and light.
Comments
Post a Comment