Can You Develop A Sense Of Humor Later In Life?

Just before her husband and son have her locked in a psychiatric ward, Nora Yates wakes up—reborn, wide awake, and done playing nice. Two men who never truly loved her? Who used and discarded her? Fine. She’s cutting them out for good. When she signs the divorce papers and walks away, the world cheers—including the internet. Oddly, the only one upset is her adoptive sister, the mistress. “Come on, Nora,” she pouts. “I only borrowed your husband and son for my birthday. Was that really worth all this drama?” “You’re lucky to have a husband and son like that. You should count your blessings.” Nora lets out a sharp laugh. “Then consider this ‘blessing’ my personal gift to you. After all, trash belongs in the dumpster.” She walks off without a second glance—glowing, untouchable, and ready to run the world. Soon, her business is booming. Suitors line up. The woman they tried to destroy becomes the woman everyone wants to be. Years later, now a titan in her field, she sits down for a high-profile interview. “Ms. Yates,” the reporter asks, “it’s rumored that Mr. Luther, CEO of Luther Corp, is your ex-husband. Do you still keep in touch?” Nora smiles politely. “Sorry. I’m a widow with no children.” Then she turns to the camera, smiles straight through the lens—at the ex-husband and son losing their minds behind the scenes—and adds, “Just remarried. Baby girl on the way.”

Dad was terrified of being laughed at. Every holiday, he only ever said one thing. “Do not embarrass me.” The relatives were sitting around chatting when I accidentally knocked over a fruit platter on the table. He grabbed me right there and slapped me across the face. At dinner, I reached for a second helping of pot roast, and he kicked my chair out from under me. Later, when it was time to hand out gift cards, Uncle Ray miscounted and came up one short. Without a word, Dad shoved me out into the hallway in nothing but a thin shirt. The cold cut straight through me. I pounded on the door while I cried and apologized. He did not make a sound. He turned to Uncle Ray with an apologetic smile and said, “Sorry about that. I guess I have not taught this kid any manners.” He did not know that his lessons had already conditioned me to flinch at the phrase “laughed at.” Every time I heard it, I froze and felt myself shut down. When I heard him say it again through the closed door, I turned in silence and walked toward the dark bridge at the edge of the neighborhood. I did not know what I planned to do. I only knew I wanted the noise in my head to stop. I reached the railing and stared at the water below. One thought crossed my mind. “Dad, this time, no one will ever laugh at you because of me again.”

On the day of my wedding anniversary, I was cleaning my house when I found a picture album. As it turned out, my husband had been religiously taking pictures with the girl of his dreams every year on this precise date. He had been doing it since he was forty years old and he was now sixty years old. His hair had progressed from a jet black to a faded white and yet, he kept up the tradition. There was a written message in his handwriting at the back of the picture that read, “Eternal Love.” Since he doesn't love me, I will no longer bother washing his clothes and cooking for him. I will no longer care for his children and grandchildren. I may have foolishly wasted half of my life, but it was not too late to make a change.

The news of Jared Foley and me breaking up completely stuns our social groups. After all, we've been together for ten whole years. Even the invitations to our wedding are printed. When faced against our friends' doubts and questions, I merely reply, "We broke up over a joke." At a classmates' reunion on the day before, the drunken Chuck Garner, the class president, suddenly asks Jared a question. "Heather's your fiancee, whereas Paige is your first love. Who would you rescue if both of them fall into the sea at the same time?" Jared doesn't even bother glancing at me as he answers immediately, "Paige, of course!" For a moment, the atmosphere in the private room becomes awkward. Soon, someone quickly eases the tension. "Have you all forgotten that Heather used to be the swimming champion back then? She doesn't need Jared to save her!" Jared shoots it down immediately. "Nah. It's because Heather talks too much." A pause later, Chuck bursts out laughing. "It's been ten years! To think that the top scorer has picked up a sense of humor!" Everyone else joins in on the laughter except for me. After all, I know that Jared is speaking the truth. He's already sick and tired of me rambling on and on when I share every little detail that happens in my life with him every day. That's why he mutes my chatbox on WhatsApp. I've always thought that this is a part of Jared's personality. That is, until I accidentally stumble upon the chat history between Jared and Paige. He even makes sure to take photos of what he has for breakfast and sends them to Paige every morning. Only then do I realize that Jared isn't cold and aloof by nature. He's just cold and aloof toward me. In that case, why should I stubbornly cling to the ray of light that has never illuminated my life?

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."

In the madness of life, we find the madness of life in ourselves. We are a reflection of the madness of life. We are the embodiment of a crazy life.