Just adding to the above. I probably shouldn't be saying this, but back in the 90s my then partner and I would hold impromptu dance parties in the grounds of the local Psych Hospital (think old style Asylum set up). We'd park our car in the car park at night, stick on some rave tunes and crank the volume up to 11. Those patients who weren't in lock down would sneak out and come chat and dance with us. Most of them were people we'd previously met and befriended at other places (mainly the University where my partner was studying computer science), others we met on the night and got to know then. We knew to be careful of the paranoid schizophrenics in terms of any sort of banter or shared laughter, but the rest of the patients who came out to party with us - well let's just say some of their dance moves were creative, to say the least. and it was near impossible not to laugh. Because we'd gotten to know them we knew who we could start teasing and having a laugh with, and believe me they'd give back as good as they got, 9 times out of 10 we'd all end up doubled over at the sheer humour of the entire situation. I remember one night in particular I was feeling a little more reflective and suddenly had a guilt attack over laughing at people, friends, who I knew were very, very ill (and doubly guilty, because there but for the grace of insight go I as well). I sat down with one of the female patients, who I'd regularly teased and laughed with over her bizarre dance antics, and apologised if I'd ever hurt her feelings. She laughed and told me not to be so stupid, she knew damn well how crazy she looked when she danced like that, but she didn't care it made her feel free. And if people wanted to laugh and tease her about that, it was fine by her. Like I heard from many other patients, and like I've experienced for myself, laughter made them feel human and connected to others. It was pity they didn't want.
I'm still amazed that the staff never came out to admonish us for what we were doing, I mean you could hear the car stereo blaring for miles around the block. Apparently they were happy to turn a blind eye though, because the patients always came back in happier and better behaved.
My point in all this rambling is sometimes laughter can be healing and as long as you're laughing with someone in a sense of camaraderie then don't try to suppress it, you never know what sort of connections can be made through shared experiences of humour*.
(* Of course I'm not advocating you turn your practice into a stand up comedy routine and crack up in fits of hysterics at ever patient that walks through the door
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