The Healing Power of Laughter: Why Humor is Vital for Wellness

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about healing, it’s that it doesn’t always have to look like candlelit journaling sessions, hard conversations, or deep emotional excavations that leave you staring out the window like a character in a sad movie. Healing can also look like laughing until your abs hurt. It can sound like an uncontrollable snort at the wrong time, or the kind of laughter that sneaks up on you in the middle of a hard day and reminds you—against all odds—that joy still lives here.

For a long time, I thought taking care of myself meant being serious all the time. I believed healing required constant introspection, endless processing, and this invisible badge of emotional endurance. And sure, that kind of work has its place. But somewhere along the way, I forgot that laughter is healing too. It’s not the opposite of depth—it’s what helps you come back up for air after diving deep.

Laughter, to me, is the soul’s pressure valve. It’s that moment when you drop the weight of trying to hold it all together and just let life be absurd for a minute. Because sometimes, life is absurd. Like the time I left my luggage in an Uber. Who does that? I stood there on the sidewalk, staring at the back of that car driving away with my entire suitcase, and I just started laughing. Not the polite kind—like real laughter. Because honestly, it was either that or spiral into a meltdown, and laughter just felt more aligned with who I want to be.

That’s what I mean when I say healing doesn’t have to feel heavy. You can do the deep work and still make space for levity. You can honor your wounds without living inside them. You can cry one day and laugh the next—and both are sacred forms of release.

I’ve noticed that laughter sneaks in exactly when I need it most. Like the week everything was unraveling—deadlines piling up, my emotions on edge, the kind of mental fog where you question everything, including your sanity. Then, in the middle of all that chaos, my best friend sent me a ridiculous meme. Nothing profound—just pure, dumb humor. And somehow, it cracked something open in me. I laughed so hard, I forgot what I was worrying about. And when I finally caught my breath, I felt lighter. Not because my problems disappeared, but because my perspective shifted.

That’s the thing about laughter—it doesn’t erase pain, but it loosens its grip. It gives you space to breathe, to remember that you’re not just surviving, you’re living.

Here’s what I’ve learned about why laughter belongs in every healing journey:

1. Laughter Is a Reset for the Nervous System

When you laugh—really laugh—your whole body participates. Your shoulders drop, your jaw unclenches, your breath deepens. It’s like your nervous system gets permission to exhale. We spend so much time in fight-or-flight, chasing peace like it’s somewhere out there, when sometimes, it’s as simple as a moment of laughter. It’s your body saying, “See? We’re safe enough to find joy right now.

2. Laughter Anchors You to the Present

Healing asks you to revisit the past and reimagine the future, but laughter pulls you straight into the now. When you’re laughing, you’re not analyzing or anticipating—you’re just being. You’re in full surrender to the moment, which is exactly where healing begins. I used to think mindfulness meant silence and meditation. Now I realize sometimes it’s laughter at the kitchen table, mid-chaos, with people who make your heart feel lighter.

3. Laughter Connects Us Back to Humanity

Healing can be isolating. It can make you feel like you’re carrying something no one else could possibly understand. But then you share a ridiculous story, laugh until you can’t breathe, and suddenly you remember—you’re not alone. Laughter collapses the distance between souls. It doesn’t require explanation or translation. It’s the sound of belonging, disguised as joy.

4. Laughter Softens What Life Hardens

Pain has a way of making us tense, guarded, and over-serious. Laughter loosens those edges. It’s not about pretending things are fine—it’s about reminding yourself that life is still beautiful, still hilarious, still yours. I’ve learned that if you can laugh about something, even just a little, you’ve already started to heal from it. Humor turns your pain into perspective—it rewrites the narrative from “I’m broken” to “I’m growing, and apparently, I’m a little clumsy while doing it.”

Laughter has become one of my favorite coping skills. Not because it distracts me from my feelings, but because it grounds me in them. It reminds me that I’m more than my stress, my grief, or my anxiety. I’m also joy, play, and wonder. I’m the girl who left her luggage in an Uber and somehow found that hilarious. I’m the woman who knows that healing can be holy and hysterical at the same time.

So now, when life throws me something ridiculous—like a missed email, an awkward encounter, or a day where nothing goes as planned—I try to lean into the comedy of it all. Because laughter doesn’t make me less deep; it makes me more whole. It’s the echo of resilience, the sound of light returning after a long storm.

Healing is serious work, yes. But joy is what makes it sustainable.

So laugh—loudly, awkwardly, often. Laugh at yourself, at life, at the pure ridiculousness of being human. Because laughter doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten your pain. It means you’ve remembered your power.