Funny Girl

I used to be a crack-a-joke-a-minute. It was my thing, what I was known for. My sense of humour carried me through situations like a life jacket that floated me to safety time and time again. It came naturally to me, to be quick witted and funny. I was never sure when I stopped caring. And I was never certain if I had stopped being funny, or if I no longer cared to make other people laugh. Upon meeting people for the first time, I was polite and engaging. But not magentic, not humourous. Not the sort of person to light up a room or be remembered. I was tired, I was drained of my energy just thinking of being that person. And it did not matter to me anymore. I would say the funny things to myself, but never outloud. And never for anyone elses entertainment. Anxiety had stripped me of the bravery to make that cutting remark, or sarcastic quip. But it did not bother me that I wasn't funny anymore. I felt at peace with it, I did not miss her. Which begs the question...which was the "real" me? Perhaps they are both me. Sometimes I find her again, usually in text form, as formidable as face to face jokes might be sometimes its easier to hide behind a screen. If my comedy timing is all wrong at least I can blame technology. The main thing I've noticed is that I simply do not care anymore. That is not to say I don't care what others think of me, its their judgement which slays my ability to be more outgoing. I just stopped caring about being the life and soul.

I was recently given the opportunity to formulate a new friendship. This person was outgoing, hilarious, energetic and magnetic. I found myself wanting to gain an accord, and it was usually found in mutual hilariousness. But I couldn't do it. And surprisingly it didn't seem to matter. I let them take the lead. Aspects of myself began to reveal themselves and as I suspected... we became friends. And I learned that I don't have to reveal all of me to be instantly accepted. Instant gratification is widely thought of as the best thing in the world. I remember gift wrapping all the best parts of me and handing them over to people without a receipt. And there would always be a fear that they would want a refund. I am grateful that I stopped caring, grateful that I was able to keep those pieces of myself back until they were requested or deserved.

It's not just about caging up the Funny Girl. It's not just about reserving her for people I can be myself with. It's about not caring. And not caring can be incredibly cathartic. Not caring is the most difficult thing to acquire within when you are wired up to care, wired up to engage in making others feel loved and accepted. I try hard to never ever make others feel the things I myself fear in the hope that they in return will never ever make me feel left out, judged or abandoned. But we're human and life is not written in ink that is ever bone dry. I used to feel like I was nothing if I was let down. Its probably a normal reaction. Its not normal to me to not care if a friend cancels, or forgets, or unknowingly makes me feel as if I don't matter. Not caring does not mean that you are a bad person. You are no worse than them. And they aren't bad people either. When you stop caring it means you've accepted life is a breeze and it'll change whatever it wants to without a thought for those caught in the wind. For every single one of us. For those who cancel, for those who are cancelled on. For those who are let down, and those who have to let down. If people make a decision that makes you feel worthless, it isn't always because they set out with that in mind. Prioritising is a difficult thing to do. And you aren't always going to be one. Even if you're the life and soul. Even if you're everybody's "go to" person. Learning how not to be is brave. I'm not convinced I have fully given myself over to this ideal, but I want to. I need to take a step back. I am a funny girl. But it'll just take a while to get the joke.

Stay with me.