Laughing at pain

I went to lunch today with 2 friends from college. One told me that she felt bad for laughing at some of things I wrote about (because it was all so gruesome). I told her laughing is fine. That is the point. 2 years ago I thought I would never recover. There were days I could barely lift my head from the pillow (envision Carrie after Big leaves her at altar. In Mexico, staying in bed all day--I totally got that). The Penelope from October of 2007 doesn't exist. She is gone. I am here and now. All that stuff is the past. I used to toss and turn and relive that night and wonder why?why? why? It's all gone. I used to be an oncology nurse. I was so intrigued how many of the breast cancer patients would tell me about really dysfunctional marriages, cheating husbands and physical abuse. I think all the hurt came out in a physical manifestation. I am not blaming the patients. I am making the point that the mind is an amazing thing!

I truly believe I had a choice. I could stay stuck in 2007 and keep tying to "hurry up, go back and fix it" like my therapist says. We've all been there--you replay a fight in your head. The heart rate goes up, the chest tightens, the fists clench. Think what is happening at a cellular level in your body.

So, moral to the story... Don't feel bad if you laugh out loud at my stories. I want you to laugh and to know that we can all move past ManGroomer™ and Vienna Sausages.

“Henry Miller said the best way to get over a woman is to turn her into literature."