Keep Your Exquisite Humor

“Part of laughter and humor is being known” – Morgan Burns

 

My friend Morgan Burns made this statement a few weeks ago as we sat for a recent podcast interview, Laugh in the Lines. 

 

His statement stuck with me. Isn’t that what everyone wants? To be known?

 

The simplicity struck me. The way laughter, even on the shallowest of levels, binds people together. Laughter affirms you are seen. 

 

I can laugh with a stranger in my apartment elevator as we both hold our overly ripe trash bags ready to toss in the dumpster. Suddenly, our interactions are forever changed. We have each seen the other. 

 

So what happens when we laugh, yet, something doesn’t sit right? Or maybe, a majority of the room laughs and you do not. You feel unseen, dismissed, overlooked. 

 

I have felt this tension plenty of times as I sit in spaces where I am the only _____. Fill in the blank with whatever. For me, the blank is often unmarried, single, or kid-free person. 

 

In reality, those are glorious titles to lots of people. 

 

When you’re the only single woman sitting at the bridal shower or bachelorette party. When you’re the only kid-free person sitting at the baby shower or first birthday. When you’re the only unmarried woman at the couples game night or girls night. This is where the tension lies. 

 

Boy, can the tension found in laughter lie! 

 

I’ll be sitting in a space enjoying the moment, or trying to enjoy the moment when a passive comment is made. It’s never made intentionally. It’s never made directly. A comment is made in jest. Everyone else laughs. I’m sitting there feeling a fire of anger in my chest. 

 

“Ugh, kids. They make life so crazy.” Everyone in the room laughs and recounts their crazy kid story…except for me. 

 

“Marriage is hard. Some days I wish I could get rid of my husband!” Everyone at the table laughs and reminisces as they recount their crazy husband stories…except for me. 

 

There’s nothing directly amiss here with this humor. It seems innocent enough. Everyone bonds over their unique yet similar experience. It is true. Kids do make life crazier. Marriage is hard more days than not. 

 

I’m left sitting there asking myself, “Why are you so angry right now? You have nothing to be angry about! You don’t have anyone else to be responsible for except for you! So just sit silently because you can’t talk.”

 

However, when you’re the one sitting there on the outside of the humor, the angsty fire building in your chest is telling you something. Something important.  

 

For years, I pushed the angsty fire down. I doused it with a cool ice bath of “Brooke, it’s fine. You’re fine. You just don’t understand. That’s fine.” 

 

Yet, the angsty fire builds as their laughter builds and bonds them. I’m left tirelessly building a bridge to try and make it onto their island of humor. I want to be seen and known alongside them. 

 

Maybe that angsty fire is telling me something worthwhile, “You are worth laughter too. You are valuable. You are not dismissed or overlooked.” 

 

Over the years, the more engagement parties, bridal showers, baby sprinkles, and couples game nights I sit through, the more I realize it’s ok to feel the angsty fire building in my soul. It’s ok to stop and acknowledge it. 

 

It is not ok to give way to the lies it feeds me. This will steal the exquisite humor I carry with me.

 

I have often sat in counseling and unpacked the pattern of “Otherness” I feel in my life.

 

I move from seasons of denial – I’m not that different from them! Which results in me fiercely trying to build a bridge to worlds that are not mine. I’m left feeling dismissed.

 

Then, I move to seasons of anger – Why do I have to always be the one building bridges to get to their island of humor? Which results in me burning those bridges with my anger. Again, I’m left feeling dismissed.  

 

Finally, I move to a season of contentment – Be ok with sitting in the space as yourself. Which results in me hearing a passive comment, watching people bond with laughter. I feel the angsty fire in my chest. I can recognize it. I can claim contentment over my “otherness.”

 

While they laugh about the craziness of their kids, blowout diapers, sleepless nights, tournament schedules galore, and husbands who don’t listen, I can smile pleasantly and admire their perseverance. I can chuckle at their stories. I can still be fully me and help them feel seen.

 

I’m like a sailboat passing by their island of laughter. I stop at the island for a break, replenish what I need, laugh a little, then sail away again with my exquisite laughter fully intact. 

 

When I stop trying to force myself to vigorously build a bridge. When I stop lighting the bridges on fire with my anger of feeling dismissed. When I let myself be who I am, I laugh more freely. 

 

Maybe, the angsty fire that fills our chests in moments of laughter is a good thing. The angsty fire reminds us of our need to be known. It reminds us to not settle on being dismissed. 

 

Don’t let the angsty fire fan into a flame, stealing your exquisite humor. 

Feel the angsty fire. 

Recognize the reminder that you are worth being known. 

Keep your exquisite humor as you sail through life content with what you have been given.

 

P.S. I recognize this is easier said than done.

However, the more I practice giving myself permission to feel the angst, the more I practice reminding myself that I am worthy of not being dismissed. All of that practice strengthens my spirit to be grateful for how I am created right now and what I have been given today.

In all that gratitude, I am strengthened to live my life more fully and laugh without fear.