Is laughter the best medicine?

“People are just as happy as they make up their minds to be.” 
― Abraham Lincoln

“Happiness is a warm puppy.” 
― Charles M. Schulz

“The most important thing is to enjoy your life—to be happy—it's all that matters.” 
― Audrey Hepburn

“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” 
― Marcel Proust

Staying in a positive mind space during menopause is a struggle some days. Okay. Most days. One minute you’re freezing cold, the next, sweating like a farm animal. No happy medium. You wake up one morning to see your breasts have swollen and fallen to your knees overnight, your skin looks like it did during puberty and your hair seems to have lost luster, color and texture despite that two hundred dollar cut and dye job you had last week.

One look at dishes in the sink can send you into paroxysms of tears and sobs, and another glance at your husband can make you look and act like Joan Crawford wielding a wire hanger.

Your clothes don’t fit, your feet are swollen and the world around you makes you feel like it would be better off without you in it.

So, how was your day?

This may seem a little melodramatic (okay, A LOT!), but emotions and hormones have a parasitic relationship with one another and we need to find ways to wade through all the tears and anger and general feelings of yuckiness so that we can function like normal human beings and be happy again.

We did use to be happy, right, in those years before menopause? Remember?

Some days I really need to psych myself up in order to put on a happy face. When I need to dig deep to find some semblance of my former self ( pre-chin hairs and swollen tummy) I remember those times when I’ve laughed the loudest and longest at the stupidest things. An old episode of Seinfeld will be playing on TVLand and I’ll see George and Jerry and Elaine doing something excessively dumb and for a few minutes I will just gaffaw my head off. Or I’ll catch a few minutes of an old I LOVE LUCY and I will be in heaven for the rest of the afternoon.

Laughter, all the experts tell us, is an amazing equalizer and a universal reaction to an event we perceive as amusing. Really, is there anyone who doesn’t giggle when they hear a fart? Can any one of us not laugh at Robin Williams, Tim Conway, or The Marx Brothers when they are at their silliest? I know I’m dating myself here, but those were the people I grew up watching on television and where my sense of the ridiculous was born and fostered.

When was the last time you watched Animal House? Can you seriously not cry tears of glee seeing John Belushi drunk and stupid – “which is no way to go through life, Son,” according to Dean Wermer.

I find silliness even in stuff that isn’t televised. I can remember vividly a story my husband and sister-in-law told me about my daughter at a baseball game once, when she used the term “foul bowel,” instead of “foul ball.” I’m laughing about it as I write this. I can remember dinner parties with friends and family where hour after hour was spent at the dining room table, the food long gone, the drinks still flowing, regaling stories of our youth, remembering family vacations and road trips and all the quirky things that would happen during those times. Those are the memories I reach for when I’m being assaulted by the atrocious realities of menopause.

Now, don’t get worried that I’m suicidal or that I’m going to put my head in the oven any time soon. I like my life way too much to ever do anything to jeopardize it.

Besides, my oven is electric.

But there are some menopausal “blue days”, when those feelings of being overwhelmed and underappreciated need to be addressed and dealt with constructively. Sharing an old story or memory with a friend or family member is helpful. I have a friend who says that in addition to sharing those stories, adding alcohol in the form of a Cosmo makes it even better! And don’t forget chocolate. Laughing at old sitcoms with chocolate and maybe a cocktail seems ideal to me!

 Isn’t it funny – and not in the haha way – that post partum women go through what are called “the baby blues,” or postpartum depression, and then we have to go through a similar emotional time when our bodies no longer bear children. We get sacked at both ends of the baby spectrum!

Funny or ironic? Discuss amongst yourselves. But remember one thing: this is but a blip in time; a moment that will come and go, and may be forgotten. One of my very wise sisters-in-law said that just to me this past weekend. That's the easiest way for me to get through the blue times, knowing that this too, shall pass, and once I am on the other side, it will all have been worth it.