Who Took My Funny Bone?

I Used to be Funny

Really. I was. I had a flair for conversational humor in my writing. Then, one day

Poof!

It was gone!

Could it be my monster menopausal hormones that made me a grumpy Scrooge, sad sack of a Debbie downer that has squashed my funny bone?

Well, maybe partly.

(that's a whole other essay)

In the meantime, the question nagged at me.

Where did my funny bone go?

When I think back, the real shift that happened when I look back is when I started comparing myself to all the “gurus” out there using terms like “finding yourself” and “authenticity,” “dark night of the soul,”—you know, the esoteric, Ghandi-ish words that sound so profound.

So of course, I thought, “Oh, I need to sound more serious and wise.” I mean, I did feel like I was going through an existential crisis (or could it just be that darn menopause!)

Honestly, I think they are one and the same.

💭💭💭

🤔

Anywho… My community seemed to resonate with the big, beautiful, deep-sounding, sing-songy words.

Admittedly, I liked it as well. It opened up a new form of expression in my writing. It was more of a vulnerability it allowed me, which brought about a lot more connection. That's what I always hope for. But lately, as I've been reconnecting, rediscovering being honest with myself, I realize this is not all of who I am. The esoteric, philosophical guru type of writing I can appreciate. Heck, I follow and enjoy a lot of them.

BUT!

me?… I’m just shy, love to love, sometimes doubtful, mostly hopeful, at times self-deprecating, rediscovering her funny bone Sherry, who wants to be seen but doesn't really, but does, but not really, and feels the icky of that wanting. It’s complicated. 😬

Melding all the parts of me together to bring love to those who find my writings and bring a dose of light into what can often feel like a dark world.

“Ewww”…taunts the mean girl in me. I think I will have to name her Ms. Ick. Yep, I like it for her. Ms. Ick, I see you coming! You're on notice!

Squirrel!🐿️

What’s my point? (darn you foggy menopause brain)

Oh yeah.

I remind myself to wait a minute; I’m not so different from most people. Isn’t that why we create? To be seen and heard because we all have something we want to say? In humor or Ghandi-ish wisdom. Or both.

As for me, I want my funny bone back!

I want to make people smile more so than not and, at times, join me in my existential musings, or profoundness. (can you be profound, thinking that you're being profound?)

💭💭💭

🤔

Squirrel!

So, to hell with it! Let me write what I want to say without worrying about how it sounds with funny bone humor and Ghandi-ish wisdom all wrapped up in one.

I think I'm okay with that—for now.

Until I'm not. 😁