Dare I learn to laugh again?

Where is my laughter?

The other day, I wrote about being sad, the sadness about many things as each aspect of adversity seemed to pronounce a lien on my sense of wellbeing. Much as I have struggled with things, I have pressed forward, not with the speed I wanted nor with the progress I expected, but I have kept looking for ways to encourage myself and refuse to allow the negative to take too much space in my space.

Blog: Sadly Sad Sadness (July 2023)

I had forgotten how to laugh, a strengthening power of joy had left me morose and concerned, preoccupied with many things and oblivious to the good, the beautiful, the wonderful, and the blessings that greet every waking day. Even if I deny it, some self-pity was creeping up on my patch, and I needed to get it off my lawn.

Bring back the joy

And Nehemiah continued, “Go and celebrate with a feast of rich foods and sweet drinks, and share gifts of food with people who have nothing prepared. This is a sacred day before our Lord. Don’t be dejected and sad, for the joy of the Lord is your strength! [Nehemiah 8:10 (NLT)]

The part of the joy of the Lord being my strength was registering in my thoughts for a while, but I was unsure of what I needed to do to begin to enjoy the benefits of this medicine of laughter with the healing qualities it presents.

Laughter for the pain

I have written about this many times before, when my Fentanyl patch fell off one Sunday probably when I was at church, the pain of cancer searingly deep came in waves almost too unbearable that as I got home still unaware of why the pain was there and then I began to laugh, not cry, but laugh as I realised how the laughter helped release endorphins that held the pain at bay until the newly affixed patch took hold.

Another experience of laughter was a few years ago when I met a pastor in a park, and we began to chat. He said some incredulous and interesting things to me and about me, much of which not only surprised me but were also as unbelievable to be considered impossible. I chuckled and even laughed just as Sarah in the bible did when she was told at the age of 90 that she would have a child.

Laughter for the winning

Laughter sometimes is an expression of unrestrained vulnerability that can leave in contortions of near embarrassment which when shared with others is a different kind of geniality, communication, and camaraderie. We do need more laughter in our lives as expressions of happiness and more so, joy, a kind of feeling of wellness that overwhelms gloom and presents a new kind of perspective on things.

I know it would do me good, it would heal a lot of pain, it will drown away sorrows and uproot the foothold of sadness, it would lift my countenance and I hold my head up high and in it will come the strength to know that the seasons are changing for a bountiful harvest where the windows of heaven are open for the pouring out of blessing. Delirium, you make think, let’s laugh adversity out of our lives.

Blog: Laughter follows my hospital visit (October 2009)

Blog: Thought Picnic: My laughter and my pain (July 2013)

Blog: Opinion: Where addiction and tragedy can confuse issues (April 2017)

Blog: And I laughed like Sarah (July 2021)

Blog: I was a hostage to pain (September 2022)

Watching a sermon preached by Reverend Richard Roberts he shared his testimony of one day owing no one and the next when he took over the reins of Oral Roberts University, they were $60m in debt and at risk of closing, how the joy of the Lord changed everything and everything changed.

The Joy Of The Lord // Rev. Richard Roberts // May 22, 2019 // Jay Eberly Ministries

Sadly Sad Sadness

Uninterested in cooking

I put a brave face on a lot of things even as I wonder at the weaknesses and vulnerability that assails me, seeking to leave me in despair. The kind of despair I strive with every sinew not to succumb to.

Recently, I have been asked about my cooking; in forms that I have had to fill out and in other conversations that come up with people dear to me. I enjoy making meals, however, much of the motivation to contemplate, to decide, to prepare, to cook, and then eat, I have lost.

The result is I probably do not eat sufficiently, and my weighing scale is showing numbers I have not seen in decades. A thing of relief that bodily exercise usually fails to achieve and of concern as bodily functions need adequate sustenance. It is just not cooking that I have lost interest in, but that is the more obvious thing.

The shrouds of therapy

I find that I want to talk about certain things in therapy that for many reasons is challenging because on assessment, I rarely present the classic indicators that put me in the critical eligibility criteria, yet my circumstances would suggest I am a prime candidate for help.

Making my case for therapy when I had cancer, I was not depressed or suicidal, yet for the kind of catastrophe of Job, I was facing when the loss of health, home, status, and much else, I had to make the hard journey back to the UK to start over again, how could I not need therapy?

It was a singularly difficult journey that from the outside looked rather stoic, but I was crushed and deconstructed, almost defeated and ruined, yet, in the midst of all that, I rose, leaving all that represented the past behind and forging ahead to write different and better stories.

The pall of sadness

We of African heritage do not suffer depression, that is the first bad lesson of understanding mental health, a denial constructed in traditional, cultural and religious tenacity that presents struggle as spunk. The shibboleth is we cannot be depressed, but could a lack of motivation to do some essential things to one's well-being, health, and happiness be signs of depression?

Brian was kinder in finding a less challenging word, he said I am sad. I can fully relate to that. There is a lot of sadness about so many things that I am demotivated and disengaged.

Indeed, and sadly, there is sadness and much of it, sad that things are the way they are, sad that things I used to do quite easily seem beyond capability, sad that there are watches instead of stashes, sad that we all seem to have similar stories, sad that it is not even too obvious what one is sad about.

Sad that I am not inclined, and I don't want to do the things that make me happy or address the things that make me unhappy. I am looking for a cave like Elijah did, that offers no shelter.