Laughter is the best medicine

I love laughing. I’m known for my horrendously loud laugh that begins with a sound similar to a motorcycle starting up and quickly developing into an ear-melting wail. I’ve been getting into trouble for laughing inappropriately for years. Many was the school report that bore the sentence, “excellent student but often giggly during class”. I’ve since learned to muffle my LOLs, but you’ll still find my shoulders shaking in the back of a lecture, albeit slightly quieter than my eight-year-old self.

I don’t live a perfect life filled with glorious rays of sunshine, fluffy puppies and chocolate rivers. I’m not immune to sadness. I’ve experienced low periods during my life, but I always appreciate the value of a good, sincere laugh and try to infect my friends with my love of all things humorous. Life has trials for everyone, but we’ve to try our best to seek refuge in the hope that accompanies laughter.

The Leaving Cert year is absolutely septic. It’s stressful, draining and has a huge effect on both our physical and mental health. I recall those waves of panic as I flicked through history papers, praying for divine intervention to inspire me. I always tried to keep spirits up, especially when I could sense my friends were feeling down.

I was lucky enough to be in sixth year with my cousin, who shares my sense of humour and love of devilment. One day she was particularly stressed over a maths problem and told me she was dreading her grinds that night. As class drew to a close I took her calculator and, using Tipp-Ex, I inked the word ‘fanny’ onto the back in the hope that she’d read it that night. She texted me around nine o’clock with ten rows of ‘hahahas’ saying she had noticed my little note as the tutor had gone to answer his phone. Mission accomplished.

There’s nothing like laughing when you shouldn’t. School mass is always a golden opportunity for inappropriate laughter. Whether the priest mispronounced a word, your teacher tripped on the alter or your friend farted, it was always side-splittingly hilarious as you tried to mask your giggles. I recall a particularly inappropriate case as we circled the body of my great-grandmother at her wake.

My cousin, who was eight at the time, was sitting in the corner watching a video on his phone. Curious, I asked him what he was looking at. He turned the phone so I could watch too. I was horrified to see he had made video of my dead granny, zooming in on her hands and featuring his finger poking her cheek while he whispered “yep, definitely dead”. Word spread around the room in a series of whispers and one by one we smiled at each other before my aunt let out a roar of laughter, giving the rest of permission to explode.

Those brief few minutes where you stop the stomach heaving crying to allow yourself the respite of a laugh; that is why I love humour. There’s nothing like laughing your hole off.

By Eve Kerton

Image Credit: Flickr

Be the first to comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

* Copy This Password *

* Type Or Paste Password Here *