Healing through Humor

Most people probably don't associate humor with therapy. Before I became a therapist, I certainly didn't. After all, many people show up to therapy having experienced unspeakable trauma, and others feel like their lives are falling apart. It would be disrespectful for a therapist to not show the proper respect to clients and their pain. But, we also know that laughter boosts our mood, reduces stress, and serves as a powerful coping mechanism and resilience-builder, among other physical and psychological benefits.

When I started as a therapist, I had been performing improv comedy for almost 20 years. I wondered if, how, and when humor would show up in my therapy sessions. Since then, I have found it fascinating to observe how people use humor when experiencing the most challenging times of their lives. Based on my experiences in the therapy room and as an improv comedian, here are some observations about humor in the process of therapy.

First, no matter the pain, humor will find a way out eventually. In my practice, I have worked with people who have suffered in profound ways. Forgive me if this sounds pretentious, but it almost feels like notes in a great piece of music. All of them will get played in the end, no matter how dissonant the melodies get. Moreover, a piece of music with only minor notes is rare. You can only play the brooding, dark notes for so long, before you need the light. Like a major note after a series of minor chords, laughter can feel like the ultimate release of bottled-up tension, pain, and stress.

Second, humor is unpredictable. Don't fight the funny. Allow the humor to come out, even when it's uncomfortable. If someone needs to laugh, support it. I have watched clients question and criticize themselves for laughing when they feel like they should be grieving or taking something more seriously. So, in my work, I try to normalize those lighter moments. I can certainly relate to the experience of questioning yourself when laughing at seemingly inappropriate times. When I was a young adult, my maternal grandmother suffered from dementia. During one of my visits, she started talking to a lamp, thinking it was my deceased grandfather. At first, I was shocked and disturbed. Then, I started to find it funny in a dark way, but that made me uncomfortable. I eventually learned that just because I found that behavior darkly funny didn't mean that I lacked love for my grandmother or didn't take her struggles seriously. Talking to a lamp is troubling, but let's be honest, it is funny.

            Finally, humor helps people feel seen. Laughing together with a client feels like the ultimate trust and rapport-builder. When I'm able to laugh with a client, they feel safer, more at ease, and more known. And, even though the therapy process isn't about me as the therapist, I suppose that I feel more known also. Likewise, improv comedy is about collaborating on and building something together—developing a shared experienced.

Great improv often uses “callbacks,” when a performer recalls a bit of information from earlier in the show at just the right time. Our brains respond to patterns of three—hearing the same bit three times can be like magic, if timed just right. This can be an effective way to help a client feel seen. In therapy, when I've brought back a piece of information from a client's life at just the right moment, it feels healing and can evoke cathartic laughter. In a way, it reminds me of when a comedian does an impression. You can only do an impression of someone after studying them intensely—of knowing their ticks, quirks, mannerisms, their history, and their ways of viewing the world. I suppose it's our job as therapists to sometimes hold up a mirror to our clients in the most gentle, compassionate, and at times, humorous way possible.

I continue to learn and grow as a therapist and improviser. In the years to come, I hope to remain open to the ways humor and healing show up in the therapy room or on the improv stage. Ultimately, humor in the healing process feels mostly about acceptance and connection—welcoming and honoring your clients' need to move into a lighter space, even if the timing doesn't seem right or if it feels uncomfortable. And then, finding ways to connect with your client and build something personal and healing together.