When someone takes the chance, and shows us their silly side, we are indeed honoured. We all have silly in us, but it’s not that easy to let it out, especially when we’ve been hurt badly in the past. When we feel vulnerable in other aspects of our lives we become even more vulnerable to let someone in and see silly.
Silly is not about immaturity. Actually I think the people who ‘do’ silly the best are usually very mature people who see the value in letting go of those inhibitions once in a while and being silly. That said, I know very mature people who would never be seen dead doing silly, but I am sure that they would be better off if they tried it once in a while.
Dictionaries tend to define silly as foolish, lacking common sense, frivolous, stupid or childish… but that’s not what I am talking about. Silly is not a negative thing in my mind, but rather something that is very good for our mental health. It’s about letting out that child inside of us to have fun. Silly is a little bit crazy, but in a good way.
The Urban Dictionary provides a multitude of definitions but I like this one:
“The most awesome compliment you can give a person! It is cooler than cool or even ice-cold. Silly is the epitome of greatness, and a term used only to describe the greatest human beings on the planet”
I can be silly with two (almost three) year old L. It’s easy to be silly with a two-year old. To let go of adult inhibitions and answer her toy mobile phone as I would my own real phone, drink pretend cups of tea, not to mention lots of other interactions which I probably wouldn’t have with most adults.
But it’s good to know who you can be silly with as an adult. Those people really matter, because they are the people with whom you can be yourself. If you can be yourself in silly moments with them, you also know you can be yourself in the moments when you are struggling. And for those of us with mental illnesses, it’s good to know who those people are in advance.
I really value the people around me who I know I can be silly with, mostly because I know they accept me for exactly who I am. I also feel extremely honoured when others feel they can be silly with me, because it tells me they trust me.
Recently someone in my life stomped fiercely on my silliness. Actually it wasn’t the only thing they stomped on, but the silly Cate is the matter for today. It’s interesting because the stomping on the silly me is perhaps the most hurtful of all, and I keep surprising myself with that one. I literally cringe when I stop to think about it, because I know how vulnerable I was in letting that person see that side of me. I’m not talking about the fun, silly but the most sensitive two-year old who dares to let you into their world. Who dares to let you into their imagination and fantasy. Who trusts you to show you the real them.
Having that stomped on hurt like hell, but it reminds me to value moments of silliness with people in my life. It reminds me to honour that part of them, by not only enjoying it, but by treasuring it. I can tell you, and you probably can too, once silliness is stomped on it’s almost impossible to win that trust back.
If nothing else makes sense in what I have said today, remember that. And honour silly. Value the trust being placed in your heart.
“When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.”
― Henri J.M. Nouwen, The Road to Daybreak: A Spiritual Journey