When the Laughing Stops..

When the Laughing Stops What Comes After the Family Folklore

Under the Will, Over the Drama – Reflections from Faurel Hill

You joke, you write, you poke fun.
And then suddenly, something hits: Wait… was that always funny? Or was I surviving?

Lately, memories have been knocking, loud ones. Things I’d buried under sarcasm and six feet of distraction. Maybe you know the kind. Maybe you’ve been the ‘funny one’ too. The one who holds it together or flees to avoid falling apart.

Turns out, laughter is a brilliant mask and a terrible long-term therapist.

The Silent Archive

Families don’t always talk.
But your body remembers. So does your heart. And when things calm down, the noise inside starts to rise. Memories return not as stories but as sensations: the knot in your stomach, the urge to hide and the guilt you were trained to carry like a second skin.

It’s not weakness. It’s not being dramatic.
It’s called a trauma response. And it’s real.

Advice From the Trenches (Not the Therapist’s Couch—Yet)

Notice what bubbles up. Don’t force it. Memories come when they’re ready. Let them speak, even if they whisper at first.

Write it down. Even if it’s messy. Even if it contradicts itself. Especially then.

Humor is your sword and your shield. Use it but don’t let it silence you.

You’re not imagining it. If something feels off, it probably was. You don’t need a jury to validate your lived experience.

Find your people. Online, in books or in safe corners. You don’t have to explain the whole backstory to be believed.

You’re allowed to outgrow your coping mechanisms. Especially the ones that kept you silent.

A Soft Invitation

If you’re reading this and nodding or crying, or laughing uncomfortably. Welcome. You’re not alone. And it’s okay if your truth took its time.