Devyn Molina explores Naomi Osaka’s decision to drop out of the French Open to preserve her mental health
Being Funny is My Superpower
Where my humor all began, and how pain was the catalyst for stepping into my power
Where my humor all began… and how pain was the catalyst for stepping into my power
May we know them, may we love them, may we cock our heads to the side and wonder how in the hell they turned out this way.
We’re class clowns, the funny friends, comic relief at uncomfortable holiday parties, but the best of all?
We are magical superheroes. *flips cape*
(Stick with me here.)
When it comes to making people laugh, you can count on me.
If I am confident about one thing in life, it’s being funny when funny is needed. That, and my ability to carry all my groceries in with one trip.
One day not too long ago, someone asked me where I got my sense of humor from, and the first thing I said was, “My father.”
I was raised by a single mother and my great-grandparents.
My father was not present during my upbringing. Actually, he wasn’t present like, at all. Growing up with that void, which I didn’t quite recognize was a void until later in life, is what I think primed me for taking on the role as the comedian in my family.
Being funny is a title I cherish. It’s truly my favorite thing to be. While there are a host of factors that have played a part in my humor, I do believe my childhood is a major player here. It’s really interesting to think about.
Now, I’m not giving my father and his absence credit for my hilarity. I got to this place myself.
What I am saying is that, from a very young age, I sensed my family needed some joy, so I thought who better than to provide that than me?
I should probably also mention that I am a Virgo, and we like to fix things, so, truly, it was my honor.
And I happened to be kind of good at it.
Here I am, years later, and I can still sense when someone needs a boost. So, I do what I think I do best, and I make ‘em laugh.
Because, if they laugh, they feel happy.
And happy equals good.
And good equals love.
And I want to be loved.
I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman, and I know that I don’t have to tell jokes to be loved. Logically, I know this to be true. … I mean, it doesn’t hurt, but it isn’t a requirement.
I will be loved on days when I’m not that funny, or on days when I need to be serious for a moment. Sometimes, though, I can feel guilty for needing a break.
But, I shouldn’t. Logically, I also know this to be true.
Releasing unnecessary guilt is something I’m working through in therapy. As a matter of fact, I have a whole treasure chest of twisty shit that I’m working through. It’s heavy, too, and it’s locked, and I often intentionally lose the key, because I don’t want to deal with it.
But what good does that do?
So, I’m working on leaving it open.
I’ve learned that my desire to bring people joy through laughter stems from not having as much joy and laughter when I needed it. So, I learned to create it myself, which is actually kind of cool if you think about it.
To pull something out of thin air.
Comedians are magic like that.
I believe that’s why I can sense so clearly when someone else is in need of a giggle or some hope, because I feel the need for a laugh and some hope within myself, too. And even when I don’t have hope or joy within me, and even when it’s lacking from my life, I’m still able to create it for them.
I can make the magic of it appear.
Just like that.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve noticed that my comedy doesn’t come from a bright and sunny place like I, or most people, might think. Not always, anyway. Instead, the funny you see sometimes comes from a deep, dark place of… well, twisty shit.
My Twisty Shit Treasure Chest.
Perhaps you have one, too.
I think most of us can relate that there comes a point in our lives when we’re face to face with our pain. We just arrive there one day, and we’re like, oh shit, I’m in pain.
And it sucks, and it’s uncomfortable, and you might experience moments of asking, why me?
But that day can be a beautiful day, too.
And the ones that follow are even prettier.
Because those are the days when we see where we’ve been, and we step into our power. And we know we come with a hefty chest full of shit, but we also know the value in it, too.
What’s in there is us. All of our pieces and parts. And we earned them, because we got through them, or maybe we’re currently going through them, but we know that there’s another side.
If you’re like me and you feel like you were put on this earth to make people laugh, then that’s what you’re going to do. Even on the days when you don’t feel like laughing yourself, you’ll use your magic.
And anyone who has the strength to push forward against the wind while dragging a chest behind them full of triumphs and defeats and pain and still has it in them to be purveyors of joy?
There’s no other word for them than superheroes.
And the magic part?
The magic part has been there all along.
Because the magic part is you.
(See? Told you it’d make sense.)