Attention Readers: I believe that this is the first essay I’ve posted here that has ZERO F BOMBS. Are you proud of me? Disappointed? Time will tell. Oh, and I’m opening with a quote:
Only a fool thinks a man cannot laugh and be serious. — (Maybe) Paul Valery
Funny story. I cannot at this time confirm that Paul Valery wrote or said that. For years, I’ve attributed it to him, and I don’t know how else I would have even known about him. But when I tried to fact-check myself, I could not confirm that these are his words. So maybe he said it or maybe he didn’t, but I can’t remember because it was so long ago,
In my search, I did find out something cool: Paul Valery could write. He was a celebrated poet and philosopher, and received great acclaim in his native France, as well as elsewhere. So while I can’t attribute that quote with 100% certainty, here’s one I can. And it’s hella deep and appropriate for this piece you’re reading right now.
Man’s great misfortune is that he has no organ, no kind of eyelid or brake, to mask or block a thought, or all thought, when he wants to. — Definitely Paul Valery
I love this quote, and I’ll tell you why it relates to this essay: it’s about being able to utterly distract and immerse yourself in something joyful or interesting, however briefly. We get an emotional break when we have a laugh, and there aren’t a lot of other safe ways to take a time-out from your brain.
Back to the original quote: it’s simply an elegant way of saying that joking about something often masks pain or difficulty, and is deeper than it might look. I definitely subscribe to this logic. A sense of humor is what keeps my feet on the ground. I joke around about myself quite a lot. And I joke around with anyone else who’s up for it. That is how I find most of my joy.
Because even when a person is down and out, they can still experience tiny joyful moments between the wretched stretches of their illness.
In a series of essays about mental health, with an emphasis on the challenging bits, is it possibly a surprise to see this here, this word? Joy.
Perhaps.
But it is undeniably a key to survival for all humans.
There is no question that people with mental illnesses and the people who love them are often plunged into the depths of anguish, agony, bad vibes, bummertown, confusion, chaos, denial, despair, exhaustion, emotions, fear and freak-outs, and those are just covering the first six letters of the alphabet!
Yes, you and your loved one will be going through a lot. And it won’t be easy. It never is. But that doesn’t mean you can’t try to squeeze the lemons you’ve inherited into some joyful lemonade every so often. As they say, it is better to laugh than to cry. (Pretty sure Paul Valery didn’t say that).
How have YOU held up, Emi?
Thank you for asking, Dear Reader. It’s clear for me that my joy comes primarily from my family. My kids are my joy, and have been since the day they were born. That is no exaggeration. Even though I had challenging pregnancies (including a horrible loss), once my kids were free of the womb, they’ve been feeding me joy ever since. The other precious members of my family, while not listed here, know who they are, and how grateful I am for them to be there for me as I hope to be there for them, even when I’m on shaky ground.
My main source of joy is laughter. I LOVE making people laugh. If I can make you laugh within the first five minutes of meeting you, we’re going to get on just fine. I was a professional actor and improv performer for decades. Improv is great because it’s a rush, and you often do end up making people laugh including yourself, AND you’re working as a team. Teaching improv is equally fun. I used to run a group at the local middle school that met every Friday, and let me tell you, it got my students and me through all kinds of ups and downs over those hideous middle school years. I saw them grow up before my eyes and learn to be more confident and creative communicators. And, best of all, we laughed. A LOT.
If you’re wondering why I still don’t teach improv, here’s the short answer: I had a shitty year and a half, resulting in a breakdown, resulting in hospitalization. And then Covid showed up. So now that things are looking more promising with my mental health and that of the world’s, , I really do want to get back to that.
But I digress.
When under the terrible strain and fear of a mental health diagnosis, joy must be found wherever possible. And everyday, for that matter.
You’re gonna have to dig deep to find it sometimes. There are many days I can think of where I found no joy. But you can dig deeper. Sure, everything sucks, but did you enjoy your morning coffee? Did your cat sit on your lap today for a snug? Did a stranger smile at you today? Are you wearing your favorite sweats, the fancy ones? Fancy sweatpants, look at you! Could you put on a song you love and just enjoy it? Take a walk around the block and just take in whatever you see and appreciate that you have a place to go out and walk around?
With this pandemic unceremoniously overstaying its welcome, many people are hurting and have been doing so alone and in silence. But we’re beginning to come out into the world again, and I’m betting we’ll find some more joy out there.
I’m in a writing group with a bunch of phenomenal women who are peers as well as dear friends. They are supportive, smart, and funny. And a lifeline to me, at times, I can assure you. I can’t WAIT to reunite with all of them in person. It’s been so long. We laugh about as much as we write on any given day.
So where to begin? A list (I love lists.) (As you may have noticed.) (And also asides.)
Here is what I suggest you do:
Type or write down the numbers 1–50, one number per line.
The title of this list is : Things That Bring Me Joy
Fill that list up.
What, too many numbers? Try again.
Zero in on even the smallest of things.
It doesn’t have to be something that brings you joy right now because you feel like shit on a shingle. Just write down the things that even remotely make you smile or feel a tiny bit better, and the list will grow. And if you can’t do the joyful thing right then, you’ll probably be able to do it later.
Okay, here’s mine, just to show you that you can do it, too. It’s perspective changing and can really help in rough times. Just watching “Seinfeld” has been known to interrupt some of my terrible mood episodes.
50 Things That Bring Me Joy
(IN CASE YOU’RE WONDERING: Apart from the first FOUR entries, these are in NO particular order, so you can stop trying to psychoanalyze me right now, thank you. I’ve been therapized and analyzed for decades.)
- 1. My family (that’s ALL of you people)
- 2. My BFF, Jane
- 3. Making my Mum laugh (we call her Thew)
- 4. Lip-synching with my dad (we call him Dode)
- 5. Making other people laugh
- 6. Cake
- 7. Nice weather
- 8. A warm fleece blanket on a cold day
- 9. Cocoa Metro chocolate milk (barring that, Fairlife chocolate milk)
- 10. Sex
- 11. New boots
- 12. My cats
- 13. 30 Rock
- 14. A meditation that turns into a nap
- 15. John Oliver
- 16. Getting take-out
- 17. Not having a migraine
- 18. Music
- 19. Drums
- 20. Singing
- 21. Chicken cutlet sandwiches
- 22. Writing
- 23. Reading
- 24. Acting
- 25. Improv
- 26. Teaching
- 27. Teaching Improv
- 28. Singing bad 80s music with my kids
- 29. Other people doing my chores for me
- 30. Visiting my sister, who spoils the hell out of me
- 31. Looking forward to visiting my sister, who spoils the hell out of me
- 32. Thinking about my recent visit with my sister, who spoils the hell out of me
- 33. A good workout that leaves me super sweaty and stinkily offensive to others
- 34. Seeing that I’ve lost half a pound on Noom
- 35. Proper Hugs (must last at least ten seconds per Hank Hooper on “30 Rock”)
- 36. Presents
- 37. Looking at old photos and videos
- 38. Family dinner time where we all act ridiculous
- 39. Stuffed animals
- 40. Lip gloss
- 41. Cookies
- 42. Chocolate
- 43. Having the house to myself (but not too often)
- 44. Receiving a compliment, however tiny
- 45. Feeling appreciated
- 46. Buying a new book
- 47. Making someone smile, or someone making me smile
- 48. Pleasing other people with what I’ve attempted to cook or bake
- 49. Reminding myself how strong I am
- 50. Reminding myself that I have a lot of love in my life, and that’s really the only thing that matters
These may not be all grand and glamorous, but they truly do bring me joy. So I hope you will make a list for yourself that you can return to when you need an infusion. Even a little joy is better than none.
And yes, you can have moments of joy amidst deep despair. It may not last as long or solve your symptoms, but a good laugh is a good laugh, and a good hug is a good hug.
I wish you joys of all sizes, no matter what level of shit is raining down on you.
Remember Maybe Paul Valery’s quote: “Only a fool thinks a man cannot laugh and be serious”? I bet it would be fun to have him over for dinner. His work is certainly full of insights, dry quips and wisdom. I bet he’d be really good at improv. That would be hilarious.
