Laughing – the next day

I spent yesterday licking my wounds and recovering from what happened, yes, but I also spent time doing my writing assignment for the new adult education class I’m taking: Stand-up comedy with Bob Gatreau.  I wrote it about “family therapy” with my parents.  What a joke that was.  I’d post the text except the routine is full of gestures that can’t be seen when you read it.

I laughed at myself, and that helped some.  I noticed that in the scene, I was completely absent.  My parents did all the talking and the therapist mediated.  I didn’t talk at all or make any gestures or even appear present.  I am talked about as though I am not in the room.  The therapist has to remind my parents to address me and not each other.

In real life family therapy, I did talk and I was noticed, but my parents steamrollered over me.  They sometimes took up the entire session screaming about my smoking and drinking coffee.  The therapist had a hard time explaining to my parents that communication and listening were more important than my personal habits.

So yesterday, I made a joke of them.   I made a joke of myself.  I made myself laugh at them and myself and a past situation that shouldn’t have happened.  It helped me cope with the present situation that shouldn’t have happened, and laugh at it–but only for a little while.

Feedback and comments welcome!