The Healing Power of Laughter

“You don’t laugh anymore,” my husband said in an exasperated tone. We were facing each other in my apartment in the Fall of 2017. My enthusiasm for almost everything had been depleted for reasons that have been well-documented in this blog. I acutely felt what I believe is the rapid deterioration of our democracy, coupled with a deterioration of my work environment. My husband and family were losing patience with my morose mood. My husband’s words stung, but I knew they were true.

Laughter has always been important to me. I am attracted to people who can make me laugh. It’s probably the reason that I married my husband. I remember laughing at his dry humor on our first date, which led to a second date, and third, and . . . well, you get the picture.

The last time that I had experienced a dry spell from laughter was when my father was ill. For several months after he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and later passed away, I couldn’t imagine that I would ever feel like laughing again. Then one day, when I was just getting to know my friend Mendy, she said something that made me laugh – out loud. Mendy still makes me laugh, and she remains one of my closest friends.

I wish I could say that my laughter returned after that “conversation” with my husband, but it didn’t. While I’ve had moments of fun and chuckles with my family, my best friend, Mendy, and “Team Texas,” the past 3 ½ years have been tough. I haven’t really laughed. Honestly, I can’t remember the last time that I laughed.

But that changed this past week. I have laughed all week. Laughed so hard that I’ve been doubled over clutching my stomach. Laughed so much that by Thursday, my jaws were sore. Laughed with old friends and new colleagues.

A few weeks ago, my friend and former Injury Prevention Center of Greater Dallas colleague, Marissa, acknowledging the special atmosphere we had at the Injury Prevention Center (IPC), said she feared she would never have that again. I can’t guarantee Marissa will again experience what we had at the IPC, but I do know that the “magic” can strike more than once. At various times in my 35+ year career, I’ve experienced a magical workplace. First, with Leslea Bennett-Webb and the Health Education and Information Services team at the Oklahoma State Department of Health, later with Sue Mallonee and the Injury Prevention Service, and certainly for several years with the IPC.

I hope that all of my teams will remember the magic, the fun, and the meaningful work we did, but I feel a sense of disappointment that I may not have delivered on that for my Community Development Services team because they got the stressed, weary and apologetic version of me.

I’m still worried about our democracy, the ramifications of the coronavirus pandemic on our health and economy and continued racial injustice. But this week, I finally remembered what it feels like to laugh. And for that, I just want to say the most heartfelt thanks to the staff of the Safe States Alliance – Rich, Sharon, Michelle, Jamila, Ina, Julie, Eva, Christa, Carly, and Paul!

Laughter really does heal. And magical workplaces still exist!