Let’s talk about humor and trauma.
As someone who works with women in the realm of self-expression and the traumas that can get in the way of living your truth ... you might think my one-on-one sessions are always really serious. They're not. If I were asked to brag about one thing (not as a practitioner, but as a human), it would be my quick wit and sense of humor. I love nothing more than friends I can banter with, and my clients and I generally laugh together easily. My humor is natural for sure, and it developed as a trauma response.
You know how the greatest comedians are often depressed, anxiety-ridden, or prone to addiction?
It's not an accident. For some of us, early experiences were so intense, the only way we could deal with them is to laugh. To really recognize early the cosmic joke of it all, and find an avenue to pleasure amidst the deep pain.
For me, I have a humor trauma-response, AND … laughing can be a fawning response. We might give a soft laugh or chuckle during small talk, even if we don’t agree with what’s being said. We might automatically smile at someone on the street, even though our body tenses and pegs them as a threat. Laughing with someone can disarm them, make them feel we’re on their side, and ease tension.
In my own life, if something upsets me in relationship, I might address it with a bit of a laugh, or infuse it with humor. This waters it down, and makes it safer. If I say something that feels big for me, that carries the threat of harming our connection, how can I say it in a way that makes it seem less threatening, and de-centers my needs a little bit? That can be by presenting it with a laugh, to make it palatable. Of course, over time, that means I'm not actually owning my needs and desires fully.
For example, I might say, “ha, I could really use the night off” to my husband, meaning I could use the night off from mothering. Because I find this impossible to ask for, or like I’m asking for too much, I say it with a laugh. Luckily, my husband has the emotional intelligence to see this for what it is: a masked request. He gets annoyed when I ask for things this way. AND, because I’m not used to getting my needs met or being seen, it can be hard for me to even KNOW that I can ask in a real way. This is something I’m actively working on, in my own journey with naming my needs.
As a practitioner, I strive to balance humor with meeting the moment. Can we laugh when we need a bit of a break, some levity as a resource in intensity? Can we be in the hard stuff and notice when we're laughing as a means to avoid or take the edge off? Can we recenter and claim what we need, or feel the bigness of the emotion that's truly there, without watering it down/avoiding through humor?
The gift of humor in the face of challenge or trauma, is that it’s connective, and can give us some much needed soothing. I never want to abandon my humor, which is a big part of my personality. But I do watch where it wants to overtake the moment. Often compassion and “I see you, I feel you,” is what’s truly needed when humor tries to dismiss bigger feelings.
Curious about your own patterns and ways you cope with challenge? Me too. Reach out for a no-pressure 30 minute call if you’d ever like to chat.