Depression: No Laughing Matter - Or Is It?
Standing at
the check out line at my ever so friendly local 7-11, where I normally stop and
giggle at the Hollywood tabloid headlines: 'Oprah Delivers North America's
First Alien Baby' or 'Brad Pitt Is Really A Girl'. What happens? Nothing. I cop
an attitude, surreptitiously buy several jumbo-sized Kit Kat bars and a family
sized box of Old Dutch potato chips and realize I'm still depressed. Very
depressed.
Clinical
depression is a whole body illness that is significant and severe, needing
medical attention. It is not ‘the blues' or ‘in the dumps'. It is an illness
characterized by dramatic changes in sleeping and eating patterns, a pervasive
sense of hopelessness, guilt and worthlessness and lack of enjoyment in
normally pleasurable activities. Depression, unlike normal sadness, lasts not a
few days, but for no less than two weeks. Even months. And sometimes: years.
It is not
something you can just ‘get over'. (For more information, please visit the
Canadian Mental Health Association's website at www.cmhanational.org)
Suffering
from clinical depression often feels like the Universe is a big joke and I'm
the punch line. I normally have a rather good sense of humor, but when
depression strikes its' nasty blow- my funny bone takes more than just a
bruising. It feels dead.
But I
believe unearthing our sense of humor, is essential to healing.
Looking for
the funny doesn't mean putting on a 'Polly-Anna-grin-and-bear-it' demeanor. One
of those 'I'll just force myself to laugh, and fake it 'til I make it', kind of
thing. That just makes me feel worse, if not stupid.
It is the
looking for the lighter side that is key. Not finding it, necessarily.
Rediscovering my sense of humor is a by-product of my willingness to look for
it. The proactive search for humor is the magical, alchemical ingredient.
Something about the looking seems to allow a little light in, and slowly,
slowly, very slowly, I begin to excavate my funny bone.
A proactive
stance however demands that I be unflinchingly honest with myself. I can not
pretend to be willing, when I am not. I need to admit to myself, without
passing moral judgment, if in any way, I am deliberately digging my heels in,
crossing my arms and resolutely declaring 'I refused to be amused!' Because,
sometimes, I'm just so damned angry that I'm depressed, I won't let myself
laugh and I don't want any help. That's not a crime. In fact, to me it's
understandable. But I do need to know this. Otherwise, I'm trying to climb a
greased pole.
It's not
easy seeing even a glimmer of humor when depressed. My ability to laugh, like
all of us, is at best, decimated during the dark periods of depression.
Finding
your sense of humor when you're depressed is like asking someone to find water
in the desert. It's possible, but mighty tough.
Here are
some tips that help retrieve my sense of humor when it's evaporating or
evaporated, as the case may be:
Take Your
Humor History:
Sometimes
the only way to find what makes you laugh, is looking at the past when you did.
It may be a few month ago, a few years or even a few decades. When you're not
depressed, what T.V. shows or films make you laugh - slapstick, romantic
comedy, action comedy? What kind of jokes? Political satire, practical jokes,
puns, innuendoes? What made you laugh as a child? Cartoon characters, your
brother making funny faces, the neighbor's new puppy?
Check for
what I call 'memory or phantom laughs'. Those times when I know normally I
would be giggling, but instead, I'm just remembering that I would. Often very
bittersweet moments.
It's that
'if I wasn't so depressed I'd be laughing' feeling. But almost laughing is
better than no laughing at all. It can often be the beginning to actually doing
it. Keep mental notes or a journal of your phantom laughs and your humor
history. It gives you valuable information you can use later.
Size
Doesn't Matter. Start small.
Don't worry
about the big guffaws, instead be on the lookout for anything that makes you
remotely smile, even just want to smile.
Notice what
makes the corners of your mouth even just slightly move upwards, your cheeks
begin to lift or a stunted kind of laugh emerge. This is all good. It's your
body's way of telling you you're near your funny bone. And bones don't
disappear, they just get weak. The solution: you do what you can to fortify
them. Your funny bone is exactly the same.
Go Ahead
Make Yourself Laugh
Take your
humor history and those things that nudge your funny bone and create a 'laugh-able'
strategy.
When I do
this, it doesn't mean that things, all of a sudden, seem comical, but it gives
me a distinct advantage over staying curled up on the couch listening to weepy,
country, love songs about loosing everything including the kitchen sink.
So I rent
the movie 'Big', watch re-runs of Friends and Mary Tyler Moore. I call up that
girlfriend who shares my frequently irreverent humor. I flip through the People
magazine issue of the 'Worst Dressed Celebrities in Hollywood'. I read 'Herman'
or 'Better or for Worse' comics.
When deep
in the clutches of depression, I methodically set aside time every couple days
to give my soul a chance to if not laugh outright, witness things I know are
funny to me. Eventually my lighter side gets the better of me. Not always for
long, but at least for awhile.
Implementing
a 'laugh-able' strategy doesn't eradicate depression of course, but it can make
it more bearable.
Once
I'm out of the darkness, I make sure I fortify my funny bone with some kind of
humor every day. It may sound simplistic, even na•ve. But to this day, my
relentless pursuit to find something, anything, even marginally humorous
everyday is one of my best coping tools to date. My sense of humor is as
valuable to me as the medication I take to stay well
FROM : THE ORGANIZATION OF BIPOLAR AFFECTIVE DISORDER
