Dramatic and Innapropriate
The following are thoughts on accepting ourselves for who we are and then finding the right people to share all that with. Often we try to change ourselves because we try to please the people who are currently in our lives. However, we may need to put in real effort to finding new people who are going to help us be more boldly ourselves.
----
In the one and only couple’s therapy session my ex husband and I attended, after nearly an hour of bringing things up that he hoped would make the therapist see how he was wonderful and I was terrible, my ex became completely exasperated at the repeated question, “What’s your point?” The therapist didn’t see a problem with anything, and the longer that went on, the more angry my ex got until he proclaimed that I was dramatic and inappropriate. I agreed, with my whole heart. I love to tell stories that really keep the attention of my audience, no matter who they are. And yes, sometimes, I have no idea that something I think is hilarious simply is not to those in the room. I don’t always have a filter, and I love that about me. I left that therapy appointment realizing that I needed to find people who enjoyed who I am and how I express myself and not tone myself down for the comfort of those who don’t even enjoy quiet me. The rest is history.
I adore appropriately inappropriate people, at least if they are funny. (Getting handsy or not taking no for an answer does not count.) This started when I was 14, and two friends insisted I listen to one of Eddy Murphy’s comedy routines. It was full, top to bottom, with curses, and I thought all of it was hilarious. I don’t know how much I laughed out loud because I was so intent on listening to Eddy’s timing and comedic persona that often I was too focused to fully enjoy myself, but I was thrilled. From the time I was little, I couldn’t understand why we all had to be so uptight about sex, manners, etc. I participated in all the uptightness because I thought I had to. But the older I got, the less I wanted to maintain the status quo. I wanted the freedom to be crass, rude, shocking, and hilarious.
Humor has helped me survive a lot of stuff. It’s my resilience magic wand. If I can figure out how to make a joke of it, I might be ok. The trouble is, sexual trauma, emotional abuse, abandonment, and the eventual PTSD are often not thought of as appropriate to laugh at, even for the inappropriateness pros. But I don’t care. I think I just need to find my audience. I have to believe I’m not the only one that would rather laugh at horrifying things than be horrified. I think there are people who enjoy a flare for the dramatic as much as I do. And maybe everyone else needs to know that giving ourselves permission to laugh at life’s most unfunny moments might just help us survive them.