One of the biggest assets to have in midlife is humor.
I started writing humor in my 40’s as a way to help me make sense of the world. I discovered that satire, parody, and levity are the best ways for me to express the things I’m too scared or intimidated to say in my real midlife. My first published piece was about an injustice that I was really upset about at the time: the ball hog on my son’s 6 year old soccer team.
It wasn’t exactly David Sedaris level, but I kept at it, got better, and now I have regular pieces in The New Yorker and three published books. And that ball hog is probably playing professional soccer.
But let’s talk more about the power of humor.
Humor allows you to make a point without drawing blood. It’s a rubber sword. It’s a coping mechanism. It’s disarming. And it lets you control the narrative.
To quote Nora Ephron: if you slip on a banana peel, people laugh at you. If you tell people you slipped on a banana peel, it’s your laugh.
The most surprising thing about finding my voice through writing humor is that it led to me having more confidence to use my voice in real life. I went from not even speaking up at Bunco to giving a speech on the steps of the Texas state capitol during the Women’s March (which, believe me, wasn’t as intimidating as Bunco). When you approach an issue with humor, even if it’s sharp humor, it disarms people. It breaks tension. It’s a surprise.
Here’s an example: Recently I was at my local library, and a child was making a lot of noise and bothering everyone. A librarian finally asked the boy’s mom if he could be more quiet. Instead of agreeing, the woman became upset, grabbed her kid’s arm and yelled, “COME ON ETHAN. LET’S GO TO THE WESTLAKE LIBRARY WHERE THEY LET KIDS ACT LIKE KIDS” and the two of them stormed out of the building.
The entire room was on alert, with everyone looking at each other in shock, and the librarian’s eyes welled with tears. There was a palpable silence. We’d wanted silence, but not like that.
But I knew this was my moment. Humor was needed. I stood up, walked to the front desk, and loudly asked, “Does anyone have the phone number for the Westlake library? Because I want to call and give them a heads up.”
And that did it. The tension broke. The librarians laughed. We took back the power and humor saved the day.
Humor is a great coping mechanism because it gives us one of the strongest and most important characteristics there is: resilience. Humor teaches us that it’s okay to do something, fail, and then get up and try again.
The failure lesson I teach kids and grownups in my classes is one I learned from improv. If you try something that flops or if you make a joke that doesn’t work, instead of being embarrassed or shrinking away, do the opposite. Embrace it. Raise your hands in the air, yell “I FAILED!” and take a dramatic bow. Then you’re once again controlling the narrative. You’re telling people that you slipped on a banana peel. It’s your laugh. And even if you don’t do this physically, you can do it mentally to remind yourself that you’re not your last mistake.
Humor is a balm, a coping mechanism, an open door, and a powerful way to travel through the world. Especially in midlife.
-Wendi
Wendi Aarons is an award-winning humor writer and author of I’m Wearing Tunics Now, Ginger Mancino, Kid Comedian and Socks. Wendi is also a freelance copywriter and social media consultant, with clients including The Conferences for Women, Merrill Lynch, LPGA, Futures Without Violence, Pfizer, and others. She and her husband and two sons are longtime residents of Austin, Texas.