How I love to laugh

“If we couldn’t laugh we would all go insane.”

~ Robert Frost



I notice I’m laughing a lot, lately. Loud, belly laughter, that rumbles and ripples and bounces off the walls. Sometimes it’s about random shit, other times it’s about things that are ‘actually funny’.

I notice how much I love making other people laugh. I love, love, love, how humour ripples. I love how it’s contagious.

And I love how it makes me feel. That sense of pride and achievement about making someone chuckle is one of my favourite feelings. I feel warm inside and happy when it happens. And I love myself, when I do.

Just like I love myself when I make myself laugh, too. In fact, that’s one of my most favourite feelings, and one that differs from all the rest, because the warmth that floods my chest is warmth just for myself.

Not warmth for anyone else, but warmth for myself. In those moments I burst out laughing at my actions or my thoughts, or consequences of something I’ve been doing (or when there’s been no apparent connection and it’s seemingly just random, whatever it is that happens, that triggers laughter) I feel such fondness and appreciation for myself.

I feel grateful that I’ve got myself, and I feel grateful that I’m known to myself…that I get to see me as well as just feel me.

That, along with the video below, is a good reason to laugh.


Dizzy spells

I keep on having these moments. These moments where I almost faint, get all dizzy, feel weak as an OAP weasel (I’m pretty sure weasels get pensions)…and my body temperature runs around like a hamster on crack. (I’m not sure where all these rodent metaphors came from but I like them.) I’ve felt extreme dizziness and get whacked with weakness for a long long time now (chronic fatigue, you bitch), but this is different. This is really scary. There’s this or nothing. Other dizziness and weakness I’ve been able to at least make it home, or push on through temporarily. But nah-ah. No more. It’s like my brain goes with it too. It’s like my mind runs and escapes to a different place (fuck knows where) and in return I get a hazed over landscape of mist and fog, and the occasional blinding headlights. It’s scary.

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I have been lying on the sofa of a cafe for the last two hours, and still am. Writing from this place is somewhat challenging yet all I wanted to do. To tell the world that this sucks and I’m scared. I came out of a meeting that happens weekly in a room upstairs, was chatting with friends but could feel it coming on. It’s like my bod politely asked me to take it to rest. I politely ignored it by trying to talk myself out of the sudden need to sit down, escape the people and go find the sofas downstairs…despite the dizziness brewing like a boiled egg. I told myself I’d regret not hanging out with people – the ones I’ve been missing so much. But my body was yelling hard. After ten minutes I could hardly concentrate and was about to pass out, so headed down the stairs with my belongings in hand. Everything was dizzy and I was as weak as a rotten walnut. (You can tell this phase is still happening because my metaphors are shit.) I’m not entirely sure how I managed to order a drink but I did. I almost punched the bar man in the face that he was taking so long with the other customers. But i cracked a joke instead. I found the sofa and collapsed. Horizontal and head first. Apart from one more trip to the bar and one trip to the loo, I haven’t moved since. I think it’s weirdly nice to be in public and experiencing this. Especially because where I am currently living, I don’t feel safe. But I also actually don’t feel like I could have gotten anywhere, and still don’t. I need to go back and dig some meat out of the freezer and down a pint of chicken broth, but right now I think there’s a lot of comfort to be had in staying put. Staying in the world, even when almost every morsel of my mind isn’t, and body is so deeply embedded into this couch, I’m not sure if I can say it’s fully present either. As for my spirit though – she’s alive and kicking, I think. Who knows – i am certainly not a judge for what goes on in these moments – but I have a feeling she’s never lost.

These bouts of chronic fatigue related SHIT, are so scary and isolating. All I want is to call someone up and get them to drive me home. I want to just sit with someone and not have to talk. To just hold on and be held. I want someone close to me to know what this really feels like. To be able to sit with me and truly understand. Or not even understand, but to know what raving my body is doing, or what distant land my mind and energy has trekked off to. I have a theory that my body and mind gets overwhelmed and treks off to narnia.

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I used to just long for it not to be like this, but weirdly when it’s this intense and this full on, there’s no space for that. There’s no space for sitting, wishing, longing…instead it’s pure survival and nourishment in these moments. That’s something that’s changed. In the ‘old days’ I would have charged on through and Not. Given. In…until I crashed. Or until I was home. But lately I can’t do that. Perhaps I could if I tried, but it doesn’t feel like that. But perhaps I could and I’m choosing to not. I’m choosing to listen to my bod and its polite requests/yells. I kinda feel like it might be both: as I’ve learnt to really listen and most of all, hear, what my body’s saying and what it needs, she’s gotten better at requesting and she’s gotten better about not giving up until she gets what she needs. It’s even more debilitating than anything I’ve ever experienced before. But it’s ebbed and flowed in what it’s looked like for the last year and a half…I’ve slowly gotten more and more to a place where I can’t ignore her. And if you ask any healer – this shit is good. It’s just a pain in the freakin’ arse too, because you can’t shelve your symptoms for a day, or an hour, or a moment. I look at people who can and feel riddled with envy. But then, inside, I know this is probably a place I need to go to, be in, be with, to come out the other side.

I’m kinda hoping this particular weak dizzy spell is pms. (Bitch.) And maybe these dizzy spells are my body’s way of celebrating Halloween. If so, I hope by Christmas time she won’t be trying to be a christmas cracker.

Fuck. That.