If you’ll recall, when I began this series I said we’d see how long my PTSD holds out, as a contingency as to whether I’d complete it. I think we’re about to the threshold.
I like to laugh. I just don’t necessarily find normal things funny, you know, the stuff they base family sitcoms on. That’s not funny at all.
I have what is called a “gallows humor.” I laugh at things other people find serious. Natural disasters, death, cruelty, name it, I can find the punchline.
By now I would hope people would at least suspect that of me. I did, after all, rename my abuser, Zelena, after the Wicked Witch on Once Upon A Time. I renamed his parents Ananias and Sapphira. If you don’t know your bible, maybe that last one doesn’t disturb you as much as it does others.
I really have no choice. You might think I do, but the choices are, laugh at disturbing things, or go insane because my life has been one, long hellish event after the next. Yeah, I choose to laugh.
I laugh when I read articles on abusers and I see with great clarity how Zelena is. I laugh when I think of how my in-laws are even as deceptive as he if they can convince lawyers to grant a continuance for whatever. I laugh when I read “he who is enthroned in heaven laughs,” because I hope I’m laughing with Him. If not, well I’m doomed, and that’s funny too.
Laughter is not a good medicine though. That’s a lie that only normal people believe. It works for them, I guess. They’re having a bad day, so they sit down to watch an episode of a sitcom, they feel better.
Over here, in this place most people refer to as hell, we laugh to deflect, we laugh to make those around us comfortable, we laugh so we can pretend we are normal.
I don’t laugh because I want to, I laugh because I have no choice.
This is part of 31 Days of Writing. October is also Domestic Violence Awareness Month.