I’m not laughing at you, i’m laughing at me

Some things in life are so awful that you can’t relish in them or you might fall apart. So I’ve learned to make jokes when I can.
In doing so, I discovered a healthy way to cope with a set of very ironic circumstances. Once again, I realized that I am less alone than I think and that the irony is not lost on everyone. I found plenty of others using jokes and sarcasm to deal with the heaviness of their chronic conditions and/or disability.> When a close friend started an Etsy shop selling t-shirts and hats to bring awareness to these conditions via sarcastic quotes and images that those of us who have experienced medical trauma can relate to, I realized just how impactful our ability to make jokes about it all can be.

Arriving at the time and place where you can laugh at your misfortune is powerful.
I can’t always laugh because comedy isn’t always the answer. Sometimes the wounds feel too raw to make light of and I have to nurse them with tears, rom coms, and time.
Every day I’m learning how to better balance my feelings, like a high-stakes game of Jenga—carefully pulling and placing pieces while trying not to damage the integrity of the overall structure. Life is a series of games and tests. Make a wrong move, pay the price, get dealt a bad hand; what will you do with it? Win the cash prize? How long will you ride that high? What did you learn for when the next challenge arises?

We often laugh when we lose a card game because it isn’t real life. But have you ever wondered how good it might feel to allow yourself to make a joke about something you can’t change anyway? Your disability, your diagnosis, your circumstance is yours. You can lay with it in sadness all day, or you can create an opportunity for a good belly laugh every so often when it feels right.

I know just how fleeting life can be. If I can make the rest of the time I have left more pleasant simply by allowing myself to find joy in the most unexpected ways, then why not laugh?