Laughter is the best medicine

Yesterday, I caught myself laughing out loud at an advert on TV.  No-one else was in the room at the time to make it seem normal.  I do laugh a fair amount, but can’t remember the last time I was in stitches.  It was either over a year ago when me and Ryan were trying to hold a conversation while brushing our teeth, or maybe one of the many times when my dad gets hysterical telling one of his many very funny stories.  Especially the one where the police call up to the attic, ‘Is anyone up there?’ and the suspect answers ‘No!’.  That gets me every time.

Not having a fantastic life, I’m pleasantly surprised at my ability to find things funny.  It seems that humour often triumphs over misery – how great is that?  In fact, there aren’t many arguments between me and my husband that don’t end up with us both laughing.  People share humorous ancedotes at wakes too, and at those times, everyone seems relieved by the laughter, within all that pain.  I don’t really understand why raising your mouth up at the corners and making a noise is beneficial, but it is.  Even seeing somebody else smile often makes you smile too.  And children, well, they’re the masters of this.  When I hear either of my two laughing, I feel happy.  They’re funny too – Samuel’s crazy dancing in his pyjamas, or finding Ciara serenely asleep in her bed with a Highland cow head-dress on are two examples from many.  I mean, why would you wear a bike helmet to push your dolly’s pram round the garden?  That was yesterday’s offering.

Here’s my advice – think about the people, events and things that made you laugh before, and laugh again, with no shame or apology – it will unfailingly cheer you up.  I’m going now, with thoughts of dad crying with laughter, the kids giggling themselves into hiccups, and us both in stitches, toothbrushes in hand.

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