Trauma as a Laughing Matter

“Humor is just another defense against the universe.” — Mel Brooks

Humor has such an important place in the therapy room. It often exists right alongside the most painful, heavy experiences people carry. I have been brought to tears in session—and just as often, to deep, genuine laughter. Both matter.

Clients come in holding stories filled with grief, trauma, and loss—sexual abuse, not knowing biological parents, severe physical abuse, and deep relational wounds. These are not light topics. They are serious, painful, and deserving of care, attention, and space.

And yet, within these same stories, there can be moments of absurdity.

Sometimes it’s the sheer outrageousness of the parenting tactics people endured as children. Sometimes it’s the confusing, contradictory dynamics that only make sense when you step back and really look at them.

There are moments when, after the pain is acknowledged and safety is established, something shifts—and we laugh. Laughing matters. 

Comedy and Tragedy

Something I’ve come to notice over and over again is this:many of the people who have experienced the most profound harm are also the ones who are incredibly witty, sharp, and perceptive.

They’re often the ones who can:

• Find the absurdity in what others might miss

• name the ridiculousness in painful dynamics

• deliver humor that is quick, layered, and deeply insightful

It’s not accidental.

When you grow up in environments that are unpredictable, painful, or unsafe, you learn to read the room quickly. You learn to pick up on nuance, contradiction, and tension. Humor becomes a way to make sense of what doesn’t make sense—to take something overwhelming and, even briefly, make it feel manageable.

Sometimes it shows up as snark.Sometimes, as dark humor.Sometimes as an almost uncanny ability to say the thing everyone else is thinking but can’t quite put into words.

This isn’t about minimizing what happened. It’s about surviving it.

And in many ways, that ability to find humor in the unbearable is not just coping—it’s intelligence, creativity, and resilience at work. Post-traumatic growth, as we refer to it—a kind of brilliant, very real alchemy.

When we laugh:

• Endorphins are released

• Stress hormones lessen

• Dopamine is activated

For many, humor has been a way of coping long before they ever entered therapy. It helped them survive, navigate difficult environments, and make sense of things that didn’t make sense. In therapy, we don’t take that away—we honor it.

And in those moments—when someone can cry about what they’ve lost and laugh at the absurdity of what they survived—we’re not minimizing the story, we’re expanding it.

Comedy and tragedy are not opposites—they are often intertwined, each giving shape and meaning to the other. And sometimes, the ability to laugh in the face of pain isn’t a denial of what happened, but a reflection of the strength it took to survive it.

So, dear friend, if you find yourself laughing at something that once felt unbearable, know that there is nothing wrong with you.

It may be your mind and body finding a way to hold what once felt too heavy—and I consider it an honor to sit with you in those moments… acknowledging the absurdity of it all, together.

I may not be a comedian, but with EMDR and Brainspotting, I do come carrying a few props.

Humorously yours, 

Mandy