The Healing Power of Laughter in Therapy

Rachel Chada, MHC, MA, EdM

“There is a thin line that separates laughter and pain, comedy and tragedy, humor and hurt.” 

—Erma Bombeck

When I feel brave enough to share that I’m both a therapist and a comedian, the response is usually one of intrigue and confusion. I say “brave enough,” but really I mean “too sleep deprived to think of a fake career.” Let’s be honest, those are two professions you don’t really disclose to a stranger unless you want to immediately be asked to tell a joke or diagnose their ex. Most don’t see the common thread between comedy and therapy. Therapists are supposed to be stoic, quiet, and neutral. Therapy is supposed to be a place for serious reflection, not for laughter. Well, maybe that’s how it used to be.

Narrative therapy teaches us the power of telling our own stories—utilizing meaning-making to help us deconstruct, reinterpret, and reauthor our lives (American Psychological Association). It’s an empowering, subtle technique that recognizes the nuance of control in life: there is so much we cannot control, but we do have the power to interpret and retell our stories. Integrating humor with narrative therapy allows you to feel both a release (laughing at the randomness of life) and a sense of power (telling the story on your terms). 

Years ago, my friends and fellow performers hosted a series of comedy shows about sexual trauma. It might seem like an oxymoron with comedy and sexual trauma in the same sentence, but it’s the perfect example of the healing power of laughter. For performers and audience members alike, it allows them to reinterpret some of the scariest, most painful moments in their lives. The catharsis that comes with laughing at something that traumatic is unmatched.

Now, integrating humor into therapy is an art more than it is a science. As a client, you’re in the driver’s seat in terms of when we start to use humor (I’m not just dropping into a tight five in the middle of our session). When I can see a client close to using humor in the retelling of their story, I have them lean into it. We examine what laughing at their experience feels like. We zoom out and look at where else they can find humor in their life. On the other hand, if I sense that humor is being used excessively, I might observe that. In this case, is humor acting as a shield, distancing the client from the content? 

Whatever way you cut it, humor can be a welcome, active participant in the therapeutic process. If you’re hoping to take some of the power back in your story, I’d love to be a friendly collaborator on your journey. Reach out here to book your free, 15-minute consultation.