“I laugh because I must not cry, that is all, that is all.” – Abraham Lincoln
Truth is, my worries are a fraction of what ol’ Abe was facing right smack in the middle of the Civil War when he wrote these words, paraphrasing the poet Lord Byron’s Don Juan. And, just the same, that fact doesn’t make my own challenges any less important- just relative when considering all things. And, even so, I take Lincoln/Byron’s words to heart and work my hardest to employ positivity in my life – not out of ignorance of facts, but rather hand-in-hand with them.
I do have friends who believe that laughing about things I ought to cry about is just a mere deflection of reality and one day life will pop me in the face with a hard right hook. To which I say: Maybe. Could happen. And my expectation is that if it does, those same friends will be there to help me through it, rather than to rub it in my face.
Look, I’m human – being all, ya know, human. But I’m doing my best to live life on purpose – to choose how to allow a situation to affect me. We all have problems – or puzzles as Quincy Jones calls them – and that’s just life, shit happens. My control lies in first allowing my emotional feelings about whatever is going on, and then getting to work on the puzzle with an attitude that assists in the positive outcome. I choose.
Hey, I’m not about toxic positivity. I’m not interested in pasting on a smile while suppressing my anger or pain – been there, done that. Anyone who walked through life with me during my mid-twenties saw me stuffing my daily feelings, calling on me to explode like a teapot every nine months or so because I couldn’t contain things any longer.
It was a long time before I realized how unfair that was – to those around me as well as myself. I’m worthy of my feelings – pain, anger, or otherwise – and by not allowing them, I was continually reiterating otherwise, and hurting others in my process. AND, I’m learning that I’m also able to control how I wish to be affected by any given situation. I’ll spout out that feeling of hurt or pain or anger, and then I’ll face my puzzle with both a get ‘er done and got ‘er done attitude.
So. Having said all that, my dear Wilma – God, Buddha, Flying Spaghetti Monster love her – just ain’t cooperating much. Third Wilma puzzle in as many weeks. We got this, our worst-case scenario is not so bad. And in the end? I suppose I’m no worse off than I was yesterday when she was on the lift. And there it is.