They say laughter is the best medicine—and for the most part, I agree. But like many things in life with Parkinson’s, even something as joyful as laughter can become… complicated.

You see, for me, laughter doesn’t always feel like a gentle release. Sometimes it’s more like a rollercoaster that I didn’t mean to get on. A good stand-up set, a play, or a comedy film might have a whole audience roaring—but for someone with Parkinson’s, especially someone already juggling emotional regulation challenges, it can feel more like a barrage of pies to the face. Funny, sure—but relentless. And afterward, there’s often a crash. A kind of emotional hangover that’s hard to describe if you haven’t felt it.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about where the sweet spot is—the place where I can enjoy humor without the overwhelm. And I think I’ve found it.

Silly faces.

There’s something beautifully universal about them. Not everyone laughs at the same jokes or finds the same things funny. But show someone a truly goofy expression—eyes wide, cheeks puffed, tongue out—and more often than not, you’ll get a grin. No setup, no punchline. Just playfulness in its purest form.

What I love about silly faces is that they’re gentle. They don’t come at you with force. You can glance at a silly photo and move on, or pause and take it in. You’re not trapped in a theater seat or stuck riding the energy of a crowd. You’re in control of how much you engage, and that matters a lot.

Silly faces don’t demand a belly laugh (though sometimes they get one). More often, they give you a soft chuckle, a grin, a warm feeling that lingers without tipping you over the edge. It’s like a cozy blanket version of comedy—comforting, easy to share, and oddly healing.

So these days, I’ve found myself drawn to the lighthearted, the whimsical, the face that says, “Yep, the world is a mess, but isn’t it kind of hilarious, too?” It’s a way to connect, to lighten the mood, to stay grounded even while laughing.

And honestly? That’s medicine enough for me.

So go ahead—try it. Make a goofy face at someone today. Stick out your tongue, puff your cheeks, cross your eyes, raise one eyebrow. You never know—your silliness might be the exact thing someone needed. A little smile. A surprise chuckle. A moment of light in the middle of a heavy day.

Because joy doesn’t always have to come loud and fast. Sometimes, it just needs a silly face.

*Image of Lucille Ball was sourced from a search for copyright free images. This image use is only intended to compliment the content of this blog post. It is not for commercial use.