Rest in My Laughter

"A tornado flew around my room before you came

Excuse the mess it made, it usually doesn't rain

In Southern California, much like Arizona"

Alarm off no wait alarm to snooze. Ten more minutes

"A tornado flew around my room before you"

Alarm off. Get up. Change my clothes. wash my face. put something on my face. do something with this hair. 

Go downstairs. Make coffee. Make lunch. make breakfast.

Get in the car. clock in. sit down for report. 

Read through the sheet. Act like nothing bothers you. nothing bothers anyone here. Then wait you see something huge and the words “What the fuuuu?!?” spew out. 

I have these stories jumbled in my head.

I force them in sometimes so they don’t tumble out to the floor. 

They will either bore them or frighten them and silence ensues. 

Kids yelling Kids screaming. Kids saying Fuck you. 

little hands doing grown up things. 

little minds not so little here. 

though most of the stories make me laugh. and when you bring them to the surface for others to hear there is no laughter. 

But when you work my job, laughter is what saves you. bow down to laughter. behave in front of it or it disowns you.

I’ve been swung at, I’ve been cursed at by a 6 year old, I’ve been grabbed at, my chest has been grabbed. But I haven’t been bitten, yet. Though my clothes have been ripped. 

I’ve been a support system….a safe ground. I smile to find and hide in your pocket forever. I’ve been a friend for 8 hours. I’ve secretly cried on the inside when they told me their story. 

I’ve asked them, if you could combine two animals what would it be and what would you call it?

I’ve asked them, you have two months to travel all paid for where do you go?

I’ve asked them, you are stranded on an island what two items that you can buy on amazon would you pick?

I haven’t asked…how long did it take you to make those scars on your arms? I haven’t asked how did you escape from that last mental hospital? I haven’t asked what did you think about last night in those super fucking cold rooms?

Instead I make them think and tink around their mind to find that someone here is willing to be their friend. and not have to bend over backwards. 

Performance performance performance appraisal. one year down in the pin. at work I try to do my best in any situation even if this might not be my vocation. Someone mentioned that I appeared unprofessional but over all I was professional. I get it. I’m too funny for work. I get it I’m too laid back for kids who talk to doctors all day. that see shadows in their room. that think the only way to survive is to die. I get it my humor isn't wanted. I get it having my mom die and falling into thoughts of suicide means I can’t be professional and having my degrees in Psych doesn’t mean a thing. I get it. 

though Laughter, I want to laugh. I want to laugh like a giraffe does, isn’t that a funny picture? I want to laugh like the golden cafe did when the Israelites were anxious for Moses to come down. I want to practice a level of care that isn't obnoxious, that doesn’t make you anxious, that isn’t being an actress or actor like that other doctors, I want to be a blank canvas for those who are anxious, obnoxious, actress or actors 

The factor is, what are you going to do when they reach the boiling point reactor. You gotta be the butt joint to hinge the joint from rage to a page of chronic laughter.

Being harmonic with not their demonic side but the laughter that's inside. 

When the page turner comes around in report and nothing makes sense to how they are acting…you gotta say What the fuck is going on…If I have to spit and spat like donald duck to make one of them laugh then I can pass that on as a success that I did my best.