Confessions of a Funny Lady Who Takes Nothing Seriously

I have a confession to make: I take nothing seriously. Not arguments. Not job interviews. Not birthdays, weddings, funerals, or my cholesterol levels. And certainly not myself.

For some, that might sound like a tragic flaw. For others, maybe even enviable. But for me, it’s simply survival. You see, I’m what you might call a "funny lady"—not in the polished stand-up comedian sense, but in the everyday, laugh-through-life’s-chaos sense. I'm the woman making sarcastic quips during office meetings, turning breakups into monologues, and masking discomfort with wit faster than you can say “emotional avoidance.”

And these are my confessions.

1. Humor Is My Default Coping Mechanism

You stub your toe and scream. I stub my toe and turn it into a one-woman sketch comedy show.

From as early as I can remember, I learned that if you made people laugh, they liked you. If you could make them laugh during tough moments? Even better—you became a legend. While other kids learned sports or math, I studied sitcoms and sarcasm. I didn’t realize it at the time, but humor became a shield, a way to protect myself from the emotional shrapnel life threw around so generously.

Did my parents divorce when I was eleven? Yes. Did I write a parody song about it to the tune of I Will Survive? Also yes.

Was it healthy? Debatable. Was it funny? Absolutely.

2. People Don’t Know What to Do With Me

There’s a certain discomfort that arises when you meet someone who doesn’t seem to take anything seriously—especially when that person is a woman.

We’re expected to be emotionally available, nurturing, serious when needed, and certainly not making wisecracks during therapy. I’ve had therapists who didn’t know what to do with me. “Can we sit with that feeling?” they’d ask, gently.

“No, but I can write a limerick about it,” I’d reply.

Even romantic relationships have their hurdles. Apparently, some men don’t appreciate being roasted during arguments. Who knew?

It’s not that I can’t be serious. It’s that seriousness feels like a slippery slope into vulnerability—and vulnerability, in my mind, is just another word for “please emotionally mug me.” So instead, I laugh. I joke. I deflect. I perform.

But sometimes, I wonder if people would take me more seriously if I weren’t always making light of everything.

Then again… where’s the fun in that?

3. I’ve Mastered the Art of the Deflection Joke

Here’s the secret sauce: timing. The joke has to come fast—so fast it catches everyone off guard. Let’s say someone asks, “Why haven’t you had kids yet?”

Cue my default response: “Oh, I tried. But apparently, you need a stable relationship and a uterus that hasn’t been marinated in coffee and sarcasm for 20 years.”

Laughter. Awkward giggles. A topic change. I’ve escaped unscathed.

It’s a superpower, really. I can dodge emotional landmines with nothing but a raised eyebrow and a well-placed one-liner. But behind the punchlines and witty remarks lies a real, messy, complicated human. One who sometimes wishes she could just say, “Because it’s hard. Because I’m scared. Because life didn’t go the way I planned.”

But instead, I say, “Because I didn’t want to give up wine and swear words for nine months.”

And the conversation moves on.

4. Humor Isn’t Always a Crutch—Sometimes, It’s a Sword

Let me be clear: humor isn't just avoidance. Sometimes, it’s power. It’s strength. It’s a weapon for carving sanity out of madness.

When you’re a woman in male-dominated spaces, humor can be a way to disarm. When you’re dealing with grief, humor can be the only light that cuts through. When you're broke, heartbroken, or battling imposter syndrome, a well-timed joke can keep you from spiraling.

I once gave a eulogy where I told everyone that my grandmother’s greatest legacy was her ability to guilt trip entire villages with just one sigh. It broke the tension. It got a laugh. It made people remember her as she was—funny, formidable, and a little bit petty. Just like me.

So while some people might see humor as frivolous, I see it as essential. It’s how I process. It’s how I survive. It’s how I connect.

5. I Know When the Joke Isn’t Funny Anymore

Here's the thing they don’t tell you about being the “funny one”: people stop checking in. They assume you’re fine. They expect the jokes to keep coming.

I remember once during a particularly rough patch—think layoff, breakup, and existential dread all in one month—I kept posting funny tweets, kept showing up to brunch with punchlines. And no one really asked how I was. They assumed I was okay because I was making them laugh.

But I wasn’t. I was tired. Not just tired—exhausted from performing, from pretending, from packaging my pain as palatable punchlines.

I learned then that being the funny lady comes with a price: invisibility. People laugh, yes. But sometimes, they forget to look past the laughter.

And when the jokes dry up? They don’t know what to do with the silence.

6. Taking Nothing Seriously Doesn’t Mean I Don’t Care

It’s easy to assume that people who joke all the time are indifferent, or shallow, or emotionally stunted. But let me assure you—I care deeply. About everything. I just express it differently.

I’ll make a joke when you’re sick because I want to make you smile. I’ll turn your breakup into a dramatic re-enactment because I want you to laugh again. I’ll roast you because I love you.

My humor is love in disguise. I just wear it like armor. Because if I let it all in—the sadness, the anxiety, the fear—I’m afraid I’d crumble.

So I tell myself jokes like bedtime stories. I laugh to quiet the noise. I turn my life into a stand-up set because the alternative—raw, unfiltered emotion—feels terrifying.

7. Sometimes, I Wish I Could Turn It Off

There are moments—quiet, rare ones—when I wish I could just be… still. When I envy people who can sit in their feelings without needing to turn them into memes.

I once dated a man who was very in touch with his emotions. He cried during movies. He journaled. He talked about “processing feelings” like it was a hobby. I tried to match him. I really did.

But while he was writing his inner child a love letter, I was Googling “Can emotional breakthroughs be expedited with wine and sarcasm?”

Needless to say, we didn’t last.

Still, there are nights when I think: maybe I should be more serious. Maybe I’d be taken more seriously. Maybe I'd feel things more deeply.

But then I trip over my cat, spill tea on my pajamas, and laugh until I can’t breathe.

And I remember—this is who I am.

8. I’m Not Broken—I’m Just Funny

There’s a common misconception that people who use humor as a shield are broken, damaged, or hiding something. And while, yes, I may have emotional Tupperware full of unresolved issues stacked in the back of my psyche—who doesn’t?

But I’m not broken. I’m just funny. Funny on purpose. Funny as identity. Funny because life is absurd and short and sometimes the best response to the madness is to laugh right in its face.

I’ve made peace with the fact that I’ll probably never be the soulful, serious woman who cries during poetry readings. I’m more likely to heckle the poet (lovingly). I’ll never be the tearful, soft-spoken mother of the bride. I’ll be the one cracking inappropriate jokes at the reception.

And you know what? That’s okay.

Final Confession: I’m Still Learning Balance

Being a funny lady who takes nothing seriously is my comfort zone—but it’s also my challenge. I’m learning that it’s okay to sit with sadness. To be quiet. To let the mask slip sometimes. To show people the unfunny bits of me and trust that they won’t run.

But I’m also learning not to apologize for the humor. Not to feel like I have to dim it to be taken seriously. Because being funny doesn’t mean I’m not smart, thoughtful, or compassionate. It just means I see life as a comedy of errors—and I’d rather laugh at it than cry.

So if you ever meet someone like me—someone who turns pain into punchlines, who avoids depth with a smirk, who finds the funny in every situation—don’t dismiss her. Don’t assume she’s shallow or cold.

She might be the most deeply feeling person you’ll ever meet.

She’s just wearing her feelings… in a joke.