Now I rarely take the time out of my day to blog about personal matters. But when it comes to something like this, I can’t help it. Recently, I read an article on the New York Times website that almost had me crying.
March 15th, 2014 5:16 PM
Mary Laura Philpott writes an article called, “Raising, and Understanding, the Class Clown”. Reading it a good 2 or 3 times got me thinking. The way she sees life and the way she’s raising her son, that’s my mom. Not in a literal sense, but more of an existential one. Anyway, as she’s describing her son, and how he copes with life reminds me of both myself and my brother in almost every way. Here’s the quote that prompted me to begin this article.
“I have laughed in the face of a doctor telling me scary things.”
That hit the heart and drew tears, of laughter. There was a time when I was just a lonely stroke patient (from a sinus infection no less) who was, more or less, a vegetable. Everyday, doctors would pull my mom outside of whichever room I was in at the moment and tell her I had around a 1% chance of living, let alone regaining full use of my body again. She looked at the doctors and she laughed after telling them that they were wrong. As calm as she says she was, I know she was scared out of her mind. But she chose to laugh!
“When frightened, when nervous, even when sad, I look for the joke. I do it because I have always done it, because at a very early age I learned that if I do something to make someone laugh, they will smile and feel good, and that will make me smile and feel good; therefore, laughter is the thing that makes everything good. It’s kid logic, but it held up as I grew, and at some point, it became a hard-wired part of me. Feeling shy? Crack some one-liners. Facing bad news? Joke about it.”
Always our outlook on life now more than ever. It’s through tragedy that we’ve beget this outlook. And we smile thinking back to all the good times previous to the tragedies, we also tend to forget the bad. I guess you could say we’re selective thinkers when it comes to that sort of thing. As much as most parents think we mean to them, they mean that much more to us. And blah blah blah. I’ll end my rant there, but I hope everyone who reads this takes a few minutes to go and read MLP’s beautiful article that I’ve linked below and follow me and my misfit crew of contributors for a daily dose of antidepressants, news and laughs.