Well, it’s week four, and at long last my final paper is beginning to form, like my reflection in a rippling pool of water. Ok, that’s a little dramatic, but really, it’s coming along!

Kris’ writing workshop last Wednesday was especially helpful for me. In particular, the writings I did during that time were informed by my struggle with acceptance, my own mental illness, and how all of that played into why comedy is my “Home“. What surprised me, though, was how I started deconstructing the idea of “Home” as more than just a place of comfort. Sometimes, it’s a place of pain, too.

• I see my Sense of Humor (SOH) as my strongest trait. I’ve been pretty transparent about my struggles with depression, and throughout all of it, the one thing I have always turned to in order to redeem myself is what I consider my superpower; the power to create humor where at first there was nothing.
• Comedy has always been my “Safe Place”. After discovering “Daria” in high school and realizing how funny deadpan comedy could be, I was changed forever. I couldn’t help but quote her exact words when I did not have words myself. For most of my life, this power was only used to create a safe place for myself. As I’ve gotten older though, I now realize I have the power to use it to create safe places for others.
• Comedians like Margaret Cho had to create spaces for themselves – they were not provided the way they are provided for, say, white cis/het men. I had to do the same thing. I had to learn to advocate for myself. To say “No, you are wrong. I DO belong here. I DO have the right to express myself and live my life authentically. You do NOT have the right to deny me happiness.” This power is how my humor grew from a simple defense mechanism to an olive branch – suddenly I was able to push back against barriers everywhere I went.
• My SOH is my shield, sword and magic wand all in one. It protects me from suffering, and it gives me the courage to stand up and fight back.
• At the same time, there are moments when it turns back against me and makes me question myself in ways I wouldn’t if I didn’t put myself out there into the world. Moments when I base my own worth on whether or not someone thinks I’m funny. Sometimes my home becomes more of a cage. And maybe that’s ok – maybe that’s part of what home IS sometimes. Because when I don’t feel funny, I feel homeless. And that’s ok.