Humor that Bleeds

At various points in my life, I have found myself hanging around social groups that engage in cutting humor. Meant simply to be funny, group members would pick on one another – sometimes in little ways, and at other times in more personal and borderline cruel ways. I’m sure nobody intended to be mean or hurtful, but the simple fact is that sometimes lines were crossed and feelings were hurt. I too engaged in such behavior. It wasn’t that I enjoyed hurting people. Rather, I wanted to prove to people that I could be “part of the gang.” Other times, I felt the need to show that I could take a beating and get back up again. Being an overly sensitive and easily upset kid growing up, even I recognized that I needed to develop a thicker skin. So sometimes, I even welcomed being the subject of cutting humor. Heck, even cruel attention is still attention, right?

Over time, I reached a conclusion. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. I don’t enjoy it when people say mean things to me, and I especially don’t like it when I say mean things to other people. Putting a little smiley face after the text message doesn’t make it better. The phrase, “just kidding” doesn’t make it better. Mean is mean. And I recognize that, sadly, I have honed a particularly sharp razor of my own through years upon years upon years of practice.

Old habits die hard. And I have no doubt that sometimes, in the heat of the dialogue, there will be times when I let a barbed zinger loose. But starting now, I’m really going to try hard to not do that any more.

2009 was a particularly cruel year in my life. Near and dear friends of mine moved away. Some loved ones faced some very scary near-misses. And others were cruelly taken from us all, and I still feel the pain.

Life is too short and too precious to be cruel to special people all in the name of cutting humor.