Laughing in the face of trauma
The Cosmic Joke: Finding Humor in Hell
How I Laugh My Way to Healing
I had a PTSD response this morning. A benign occurrence had snapped me back to being an eight-year-old boy. The scene was vivid — with color and movement. I could feel this man’s strong hands gripping my arm and pulling me back to that place of my perpetrator’s punishment. I could hear myself screaming to the stranger across the street for help. I could see her pausing to witness me fighting to free myself. At that moment this morning — I watched as she walked away, seeing me pulled back into darkness and pain.
Tears streamed down my face. Then. Now.
I still struggle with so much of that event. So many questions. But the one question that lingers the most in my mind is:
Why did he have to be so well-endowed?
Now, if I were on stage using this in my comedy, I’d play with the idea of being hyper-focused on the paradox of why my abuser couldn’t have had a micropenis. But I’m not going to do that here. I have a greater purpose: to let you know that the universe has your back.
