Years ago (when I was quite a bit younger) a therapist told me I was “practical and earnest.” For someone who, at the time, was desperately aspiring to be more “easygoing and spontaneous,” it felt suffocating and offensive: a deflating reminder of how serious I am. (Certainly there was no intention on the part of the therapist to offend, nor pigeonhole me.)
I’m grown up now; and, I’m practical and earnest. However the latter part of this pandemic has had me feeling very serious, if austere. There’s a lot of heavy stuff going on, scenarios demanding careful consideration and cause for concern. I’ve noticed that its called to the forefront my “seriousness,” where - in earnest, and practically - I carry out my days. These tendencies have a propensity to hold me to a level of stringency that can be effective; I can see how they come to my rescue. Also, they can calcify into armour, that either smothers the good humour within, or refracts the levity we all so desperately need.
Last night, on the phone with a friend, she mentioned something that made me crack up, tears pouring out of my eyes. It felt amazing. Almost instantly after, I realized: “I haven’t had a laugh like that in ages!” It weighed on me that I’ve been missing my smile and my laughter - two things I’ll bet those living with me would prefer to my oft furrowed brow and (I want to say “occasional” here, to save face) grimacing. I also quite quickly noticed my shame and resistance to what I see as my “stick in the mud” side. We have to be careful not to judge our tendencies, else we bury ourselves in them, rather than use them as fodder for change. It was only moments after this unfolded that I knew I had to act - to invite more balance.
If we shame our tendencies - it can seem like we need to eradicate them; whereas sometimes they require just a bit of subduing. That said, I was also made aware that I am lacking in the “levity” department, and so I’ve written myself a prescription for laughter. I’m starting easy – reading jokes and watching some comedy - and working my way up to laughing in the middle of my serious days, at the silly stories and antics the kids, and life in general, can offer up. The reaction of my body to smiling and laughter cracks the armour I otherwise feel in my chest, the front part of my shoulders, the anterior line of my arms and forearms, and my hands (that to the naked eye aren’t clenched, but may as well be). North of my chest too are the hardened brows, and rigid jaw that signal “all work, no play.”
It can feel uncomfortable to laugh or “let ourselves go” when it otherwise feels like the world is falling apart, but using humour for healing is age-old medicine, and doesn’t cost the healthcare system a dime. It helps us cope, offers perspective, reduces conflicting (or uncomfortable) emotions, softens our judgments and it straight up feels good. The laughter won’t diminish tragedy or trauma, but already I can see it’s giving me reprieve, comfort and catharsis. That, I’m taking seriously. And so should you.