LA: Welcome to Special Needs Daily, because laughter is a therapy we can all afford. Have you ever been so exhausted that even the thought of explaining why you're exhausted is exhausting? And I'm not talking about the kind of tired that a good night's sleep fixes. Although, if somebody knows where I can get one of those, please send me the address. I'm talking about the kind of exhaustion that comes from carrying responsibilities, worries, and emotions that don't magically disappear when your head hits the pillow. I primarily talk about the challenges of special needs caregiving on this podcast, but exhaustion, grief. Feeling like you're constantly trying to get your footing on a moving sidewalk, those experiences aren't exclusive to our little corner of the world. Maybe you're caring for a parent who's getting older. Maybe you're navigating a divorce, a serious illness, or the loss of someone you love. Maybe you're grieving a future that looks nothing like the one you imagined. Or maybe you can't even identify what's wrong. You just know that lately everything feels like a lot. Now, before anybody gets nervous, this isn't going to be the Doom and Gloom show. I mean, who the hell wants to listen to that? I love Eeyore, but can you imagine an entire episode from his perspective? Well, good morning. I suppose. Not that there's anything particularly good about it. Yeah. Nobody's subscribing to that podcast. But I do think we need to talk about the things that aren't always visible. Because sometimes the people who seem to have everything under control are the very ones wondering how much longer they can keep juggling without dropping something. And occasionally, that something is their sanity or their iPhone. In my house, it's usually both. Now it's common for people to measure exhaustion by how much you've physically done. Did you work all day? Were you up all night? Have you been running around Since six in the morning? And sure, those things are exhausting. But have you ever spent an entire day? Worrying about something you couldn't do a damn thing about? You can be sitting perfectly still and feel like you've run the Boston Marathon, but there weren't any nice bystanders handing you water. When you're responsible for someone else's well-being, there's a part of your mind that doesn't get to clock out. you're thinking about what needs to happen today, what might go wrong tomorrow. whether you have forgotten something important, and how you're going to handle a situation that hasn't even happened yet. And sometimes you're doing all of that while someone needs help on the toilet. The thing is, this kind of exhaustion isn't unique to raising children with special needs. It belongs to anyone who's ever been responsible for someone they love while quietly handling all the responsibilities of their own lives. Sometimes the hardest part isn't even the responsibility itself. It's the feeling that you should somehow be handling it better. as if there's a secret manual everyone else received, and yours apparently got lost in the mail. What we're carrying isn't just exhaustion. It's grief. Not necessarily the kind that comes when someone dies, Although that kind of loss can truly change the landscape of your entire life. but I'm talking about the quieter forms of grief that don't always have a name. The life you pictured when you were younger, the experiences you assumed you'd share with your children, the time we thought we'd have to ourselves, the relationship you thought would last, watching your parents or grandparents lose their ability to take care of themselves. Sometimes you don't even realize you're grieving something until an ordinary moment catches you completely off guard. And before you know it, You're wiping away a memory that's now rolling down your cheek. I think one of the most complicated things about grief is that it doesn't always arrive alone. Sometimes it shows up alongside gratitude. You can be incredibly thankful for the life you have and still miss parts of the life you imagined. You can love your children beyond measure and still feel sadness about experiences you may never share. You can be grateful for another day with someone you love while grieving the changes you're watching them go through. Those feelings don't cancel each other out, and they certainly don't make you ungrateful. They make you someone who's living through something complicated. And unfortunately, it's more common than you think. Okay, enough Debbie Downer. How about I talk about humor for a minute? Because I genuinely believe there's something wonderful about being able to laugh in the middle of circumstances that aren't particularly funny. I mean, not at the person we're caring for, not at someone else's pain, But at the absolute absurdity of certain situations. Sometimes laughter is the only reasonable response to something completely unreasonable. And believe me, I've had plenty of those moments. the kind where you look around and think, you cannot be serious. Except life is very serious. And it has no intention of checking whether you've had enough coffee before introducing the next plot twist. When I laugh through a difficult situation, it doesn't mean I'm pretending it isn't difficult. It means I'm allowing myself a moment of relief from the seriousness of it. And sometimes that's really the only thing that can get me through it. I just watched the documentary on Matthew Perry, and his sister talks about his very intimate funeral with only family and close friends. She's describing the moment they were sliding the casket into the wall, which was absolutely heartbreaking for her. But then she said she felt Matthew over her shoulder and he whispered in her ear, How fucked up is this? And she started laughing, really laughing, hard, just cracking up. And she thought, of course he's making me laugh during this incredibly hard moment. But how inappropriate she thought it was. I don't think that's inappropriate at all. I think we need to give ourselves permission to do whatever we need to do in order to get through those excruciating moments. And for her, it was laughing uncontrollably to get through that. our brains are constantly working to help us respond to stress and danger. And while we don't completely understand why someone might burst out laughing during an incredibly painful moment, but we do know that laughter can actually help relieve stress. Researchers have found that laughter can lower cortisol. which is one of the hormones our bodies release When we're under stress. So while laughter doesn't make grief disappear, it can give us a little relief from the weight of it. And I love that. because sometimes laughter isn't a sign that something is funny. Sometimes it's simply how we get through something that isn't funny at all. Then there are the people who seem to have it all together. have you ever noticed how easy it is to assume other people are managing better than we are? You see someone who's organized, cheerful, capable, and completely on top of things, and you wonder, what the hell is their secret? Maybe they're naturally more patient. Maybe they're better at managing their time. Maybe they actually remember why they walked into a room. But appearances can be misleading. Someone can look perfectly composed and still be carrying huge worries. They might be dealing with a diagnosis nobody knows about, a relationship that's falling apart, a loved one whose health is declining, or simply a level of exhaustion they've become very good at disguising. and I wonder how many of us have looked at someone else's life and thought they had it easier, while that person was looking at ours and thinking exactly the same thing. We really don't know what someone else is carrying, which is one reason I've become a big believer in giving people grace, including ourselves. because we're all doing the best we can with whatever life continues to hand us. And some days, life hands you a beautiful bouquet of flowers. Other days it hands you a pile of crap. And just because you're grateful for the flowers, It doesn't mean you have to pretend that the crap smells good. That difference is a whole lot bigger than a bad day. When we're young, most of us have some picture of what adulthood is going to look like. We imagine relationships, careers, families, milestones, and all sorts of experiences that seem like natural parts of growing older. And then life happens, sometimes beautifully, sometimes painfully. and often in ways we couldn't possibly have anticipated. I certainly didn't imagine every twist and turn my life would take. And I wouldn't pretend that all of them have been wonderful. Some have been incredibly difficult. Some have changed me in ways I'm still figuring out. But there have also been extraordinary moments of love, laughter, and happiness that I never could have planned. That's the strange thing about life. It doesn't always give us what we expected, and it doesn't mean everything it gives us is bad. I really think we can appreciate what life has given us without pretending we haven't lost something along the way. One doesn't erase the other. You can miss something that never happened. You can grieve someone who's gone. You can feel overwhelmed by responsibilities you willingly and lovingly carry. And you can still have a life filled with meaning, affection, laughter, and joy. I know that because it's how I feel about my own. I love my life, but that doesn't mean I love every single minute of it. I want you to take away from our little conversation today, it's that you don't have to explain away every difficult feeling. You don't need to compare your exhaustion to someone else's. You don't need to prove that your grief is justified. And you certainly don't have to pretend everything is wonderful just because there are wonderful things in your life. Sometimes it's enough to admit that you're tired or sad or overwhelmed. Or that you have absolutely no idea how you're going to get through everything on tomorrow's calendar. And then tomorrow comes, and somehow you begin again. Maybe with a little help, maybe with a good laugh, almost certainly with a lot of coffee. I don't have a magic formula for making the difficult parts of life disappear. If I did, I'd be selling it. Actually, no, I wouldn't. We've already established how I feel about people selling miracles. But I can tell you this: you're not the only person who's ever looked around at their life and thought, how in the world am I supposed to manage all this? and maybe just knowing that someone else understands is worth something. And before I go, God, give us an abundance of strength, stamina, patience, and compassion for whatever the day brings. For those carrying grief, facing difficult seasons, or struggling with burdens no one else can see, please bring comfort to their hearts, peace to their minds, and strength to face another day. And please always give us enough space to find the laughter. Amen. And remember, friends, you're doing way better than you think.