I Almost Pooped Myself to Death
I Almost Pooped Myself to Death
(and other lessons in post-trauma humor)
November 12, 2025
Can we talk about the funny part of trauma?
Is there a funny part of trauma?
I lean yes. Humor is my favorite survival strategy.
After having C. diff — twice — aka almost pooping myself to death (twice), my sense of humor changed forever.
Because honestly, if you can’t laugh about almost pooping yourself to death, what can you laugh about?
The Birthday Call Chronicles
So here’s what happens:
Dan (my husband) and I will be on FaceTime with one set of parents or the other, usually to wish someone happy birthday.
You know the drill — they see us, we see their ceiling, everyone’s smiling.
Then we hit that part of the call where everyone updates each other on new medical conditions. You know, just normal birthday party small talk.
They’ll list their ailments. We’ll sympathize. There’s comforting, commiserating, a little bit of, “Oh no, not that again.”
And then… I drop it.
“Well, at least you haven’t almost pooped yourself to death lately.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
I can see Dan’s parents’ faces freeze.
I can feel my trauma brain high-fiving me and screaming,
“Why did you say that out loud again?!”
And yet — I keep saying it.
It’s my dark humor’s favorite one-liner.
It sneaks out like a reflex.
Part of me is half proud of my honesty.
The other part of me is like, “Meg. For the love. Stop saying that.”
The Aftermath
Thankfully, my husband is a saint.
He says words — I don’t even know what words, but he fills the silence.
And the conversation moves on.
We resume admiring the ceiling.
Everything’s fine again.
The Moral of the Story
Trauma rewires your sense of “normal.”
For me, humor is the reboot button.
If I can laugh about it, I can survive it.
If I can say it out loud, I can take its power away.
So yes — I almost pooped myself to death. Twice.
And if that’s not worth a good dark-humor joke on a birthday call,
I don’t know what is. 😅
If your trauma brain blurts out uncomfortable truth bombs at family gatherings —
you are my people.
Drop a 💩 or a 😂 in the comments so I know I’m not the only one who trauma-jokes through awkward silence.
