As I mentioned last week, I have the privilege of being today’s guest at Hasty Dawn’s amazing blog #BeReal, which is all about sharing a part of yourself honestly.
Some posts are so true that they’re hard to read.
Others help you realize you’re not alone.
But all of them offer a perspective and insight into the author that, many times, offers a new perspective into ourselves. A lot of you may be surprised to know there was a period in my life where my humor was, more than anything, a reflection of my unhappiness. It had become my coping mechanism. And I needed to find a way to embrace it as part of my identitiy in a way that was healthy and real, or risk losing myself to it.
Fortuately, I was blessed with someone who helped me find the way.
Click on the hot link (now I want sausage) and join me over at Hasty’s for my chance to #BeReal …
I’ve been a fan and follower of Hasty Dawn’s terrific #BeReal blog series for quite a while, marveling at the honesty and insight shared by folks revealing their truths in the hopes of helping others — either through offering perspective or inspiration. Sometimes, it’s just good to know you aren’t the first or last person to tread a particular piece of painful territory. Monday, I have the privilege of being a guest at #BeReal with my own moment of truth — and the difference between embracing humor as a part of my identity or slowly being smothered by it.
Here’s a short preview…
As a humor columnist, I get paid to be a truth-stretcher. An embellisher. A chronicler of life blown out of proportion. And I get to do it without living in Washington D.C. It’s a skill my mother will tell you I began honing at a young age — usually as a way of getting out of trouble. Again, it’s a wonder I didn’t go into politics.
However, I decided to use my skills for the greater good by becoming a writer instead.
Early in my career, I was in a very unhappy marriage. It lasted 15 years because I got good at not being real. Often, I wrote about my married life in a humorous way by portraying myself as the bungling husband always falling short of his smarter, more capable wife. It kept the peace and also gave me an escape. But while it generated laughter for readers, it also generated an identity that I grew increasingly uncomfortable with. My ex-wife, who was a successful business woman, would introduce me to clients at parties or dinners as “the silly guy they’ve read in the newspaper.”
They expected me to be the same silly guy. Always. Continue reading