Laughter is the Best Medicine: Humor Me Through My Divorce (Four Years Later)

Let's be real—divorce isn't exactly a trip to the Bahamas. You've got the emotional gut punches, the lawyer fees that could buy a small island, and the logistical nightmare of untangling a life built for two. But here's the kicker—even amidst the chaos, a good chuckle can be the best medicine.

I'm Hasib, and four years ago, I found myself a recent divorcee. Fresh off the "I do" rollercoaster, I was now navigating the single lane of life with a mix of "what the heck just happened?" and a newfound sense of, well, something. But there were also moments when the absurdity of it all hit me, and I couldn't help but laugh.

I remember discovering my ex's meticulously labelled spice rack, each jar alphabetized and colour-coordinated, a stark contrast to the culinary chaos in my fridge. Or the day I realized half the "gourmet" cookware we bought ended up collecting dust because, let's face it, who has time for fancy meals when you're a single dude learning to cook?

The other day, while reminiscing with a buddy over some food, we landed on the topic of, well, the "stuff." Now, we weren't talking priceless antiques or family heirlooms. Our beloved dog, Sparky, was a goofy, slobber-factory of a Labrador with a penchant for chewing shoes and chasing squirrels. My buddy, a guy who wouldn't know a spatula from a screwdriver, cracked a joke about "joint custody of the drool machine." We both burst out laughing.

I've discovered that laughter has become my secret weapon. It allows me to take a breath, see things from a different perspective, and remember that even after a life-altering event like divorce, you can still find humor in the everyday. It's a shield against bitterness, a reminder that joy still exists, even if it comes in the form of mastering the art of grilling a perfect steak (or at least not setting the fire alarm off in the process).

Now, this isn't a story about sunshine and rainbows. At moments, laughter felt forced, a desperate attempt to keep the frustration at bay. But it's those moments that I leaned on my support system – the friends who brought over takeout and the family who listened without judgment (and maybe offered a few "told you so's").

Here's the thing about humor: it's a shared experience. It fosters connection, reminding me I'm not alone in this post-divorce world. There will always be unexpected bumps in the road, moments of self-doubt, and maybe even a few more mishaps involving fancy cookware. But armed with a healthy dose of humor, a supportive network, and a willingness to find the funny in the face of the mundane, I'm cruising down this new path with a smile. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with some peace and quiet, maybe a good book, and definitely a weekend free of any furniture assembly mishaps.

 Hasib Afzal