On a golden spring day of 2023, an old friend said something to me I’ve been turning over in my mind since.

Like old friends do, we were laughing hard about conversations we had and situations we were in together some 20 years ago. When there was a break in our conversation, after we wiped the tears from our eyes and after our chests loosened and cheeks softened, my friend said, “God, I miss those belly laughs.”

As a middle-aged man now, graced with a wife and kids and strapped with myriads of responsibilities– from familial (getting the kids to soccer practice on time) to financial (frequent checks on interest rates) to governmental (staying abreast on political affairs and casting a well-thought out vote in elections)– I have been guilty of not prioritizing fun.

And not the hedonistic, irresponsible type of fun either.

The kind of fun that makes you forget you’re middle-aged, that you may have arthritis, and that you have work tomorrow.

The kind of fun that after it happens, hibernates deep in your well-worn heart and awakens you many years later and makes you giggle and smile like the fun is happening in your feet right now.

At a time when jobs are fickle, international tensions are high, and the world is still dealing with the COVID fallout, fun might be low on our list of priorities. It seems that we’re living in a world that’s more conducive to anxiety than having fun. In the never-ending to-do list of adulthood, fun feels–almost–like a waste of time. And it seems that adults never have enough time– for anything– let alone something fun.

We exhaust ourselves with things we should or have to do, but we rarely have time (or energy) for things we want to do. As we age, so does our spontaneity. And so, fun is often reserved for those rare occasions- when planets align and when you were able to get a babysitter and when there’s finally enough money in your bank account and when you achieved eight hours of continuous sleep the night before.

Let’s face it– the older we get, the more effort it takes to have fun. Our puppy phase has passed. Having fun is not as natural, not as instinctual as it once was.  

Bruce Springsteen tells a great story about being a seven year old kid and seeing Elvis Presley on TV for the first time.

“Life,” he was beginning to think, “was a sucking black hole of homework, church, school, homework, church, school, green beans, green beans, fucking green beans.” But then, one night on the family’s little black and white TV, he saw Elvis singing, dancing, playing and posing with his guitar and he realized that adult life could actually be fun. “Fun…” Springsteen writes in his autobiography Born to Run, “… the real kind. The life-blessing, wall-destroying, heart-changing, mind-opening bliss of a freer, more liberated existence. A sweaty, wet orgasm of fun. And all you needed to do to get a taste of it was risk being your true self.”

As we age most of our definitions change. And we must have the courage to apply these new definitions to our new self. 

Before I got sick, I had my most fun when I played a sport. For thirty years, physical movement, competition, and winning excited me. However, my disability challenged me to redefine fun. I physically could no longer do what I once did. 

It took years, but I realized if I failed to redefine fun, I would simply fail to have fun.

When you’re diagnosed with an incurable disease, fun is not a priority. Life suddenly becomes about mere survival. Yet I have learned one of the most important, yet often-overlooked survival skills, is having an allegiance–no matter the diagnosis– to fun. 

My son, Chase, recently described my idea of fun as sitting on the couch, writing, and eating M & M’s. He’s not wrong. Though writing is a sedentary sport there is a movement, rhythm, and challenge that reminds me of those youthful days playing sports. And I have found that writing, like playing sports, engages me, tests me, and pushes me to move forward. Part of why I have written and published on writeonfighton.org every Friday for eight and a half years is because I  judge my life now by how much fun I’m having on a week to week basis. No matter how I’m feeling. And writing to you– risking being my true self– is really fun for me.

Yes, I write to explore, to learn, to heal, to connect, but I also write to remind myself that having fun–now that I’m a responsible adult– is not a thing I once had and is now gone forever. Fun is not a word often associated with adulthood. We tend to be mired in the seriousness and gravity of life to make time for fun. But we need to. We need to do things we find fun and not worry about results or judgment. We need to do things for the sheer joy they bring us. As adults, we need to take our fun more seriously. 

In my life with an incurable disease, I have found fun to be important in strengthening my resiliency when faced with troubled times. I heartily agree with the old adage that laughter is the best medicine. Because fun is an earthly antidote for living. The prescription to feel the healing power of a belly laugh again. 

Be well,

Jay

Speaking of fun…

If you’ve been following my journey you know I have ataxia–a cruel, incurable brain disease that impairs walking, talking, motor skills and a bevvy of other important functions.

Ataxia research has long been underfunded and awareness has long been underpublicized.

On May 4th, the National Ataxia Foundation and I are hosting Philadelphia’s first “Yo Philly, Stand Up To Ataxia– A Night of Charity and Comedy” event to support ataxia research and increase public awareness. Our goal is to raise $15,000.

I encourage you to check out the event link, donate, and share the event link with your entire network! Thanks!

To Purchase Tickets and Make a Donation Click Here!

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One Line, One Love Episode 16: Speed Dating with the timeless poem, “The Road Not Taken”

If you haven’t heard yet… my friendGail Boenningand I recently launched a podblog called, One Line, One Love.

OLOL is a unique listening and reading experience that will inspire everyday writers, who dream of writing, to pick up their pens and write one line at a time.

This podblog format (a hybrid of a podcast and blog) is for everyday writers who–like me–often need a creative boost, a scrap of encouragement, and practical advice to unleash the writer within. Each episode consists of five wide-ranging, writer-focused questions and a weekly writing prompt.

Please check it out! And please share with any writer friends or anyone in your life who has ever considered picking up the pen.

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Purchase Link

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Warm greetings to everyone who found me on the University of Pennsylvania’s Ataxia Clinic’s website! Thanks for stopping by. I have ataxia and though I’m not a doctor, I hope my words comfort, encourage, empower, and serve as good company on your journey.

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Jay Armstrong is a speaker and an award-winning author. Despite being diagnosed with a rare neurological disease, that impairs his movement, balance, eyesight, and speech–Jay presses on. The leader of the Philadelphia Ataxia Support Group, he hopes to help you find joy, peace, and meaning in life.