Why I Keep a List of Things That Make Me Laugh Out Loud

I have always believed that laughter deserves more respect than it usually receives. We talk about productivity, discipline, resilience and wellbeing as though they are built entirely through serious habits. Yet a genuine laugh can change the atmosphere in a room, interrupt an anxious thought and remind us that we are still connected to the world around us.

My list began as a small note on my phone. It was never intended to become a philosophy or a carefully curated archive of happiness. I simply started recording the moments, memories, people and absurd observations that made me laugh properly — the kind of laughter that arrives before you can tidy yourself up.

Over time, the list became a practical form of self-care. It gave me something bright to reach for on difficult days, while also teaching me to notice joy when it appeared. Keeping it has made me more attentive, more playful and perhaps a little less determined to take every part of life so seriously.

Laughter is a form of emotional first aid

There are days when a positive affirmation feels too polished to be useful. When I am tired, worried or overwhelmed, being told to “look on the bright side” can feel like another demand. Laughter works differently. It does not insist that everything is fine. It simply creates a little breathing space inside the difficulty.

That space can be surprisingly powerful. A funny memory does not erase grief, stress or disappointment, but it can soften the grip those feelings have on the body. Shoulders drop. Breathing changes. A tense conversation may become easier to handle. Even a short burst of amusement can remind us that one difficult moment is not the whole story of our lives.

This is why I do not see laughter as avoidance. There is a difference between using humour to dismiss a serious issue and allowing joy to sit beside it. I can acknowledge what hurts and still enjoy a ridiculous video, an old television memory or a friend’s perfectly timed comment. Emotional wellbeing has room for both honesty and lightness.

What makes it onto my list

Some entries are linked to people I love. A particular expression on a family member’s face, a story someone tells repeatedly, or an in-joke that would make no sense to anybody else can transport me immediately. These moments are valuable because they carry affection as well as comedy. I am not just remembering something funny; I am remembering how it feels to belong.

Other entries are small observations from daily life. A dog confidently walking in the wrong direction, a child making an unexpectedly perceptive comment, or the strange seriousness with which adults discuss minor inconveniences can all qualify. Life is full of tiny scenes that become hilarious when we pause long enough to notice them.

Then there are the dependable classics: a favourite sitcom, a brilliant stand-up routine, a comic actor’s facial expression, or a book that makes me laugh each time I return to it. I am not embarrassed by repetition. If something reliably lifts my mood, it has earned its place. Comfort can be just as valuable as novelty.

I also include moments when I have laughed at myself. There is a particular freedom in recognising your own contradictions and mistakes without turning them into evidence that you are inadequate. Forgetting why I walked into a room, sending a message to the wrong person or confidently mispronouncing something can become a story rather than a personal indictment.

A list can change the shape of a hard day

The practical benefit of the list is that it removes the pressure to invent joy when I have very little energy. On a difficult day, I do not need to search through endless videos or decide what might help. I already have a collection of possibilities. I can choose one small thing and let it meet me where I am.

That matters because low moods often narrow our attention. We focus on the problem in front of us and lose access to the wider emotional landscape. Reading the list gently interrupts that tunnel vision. It says: this is real, but it is not all there is. There have also been ridiculous conversations, unexpected delights and moments when I laughed so hard I could barely speak.

The list can also help before a demanding event. Ahead of a speech, broadcast or important conversation, I may revisit something that makes me laugh to release tension. The aim is not to become careless or underprepared. It is to arrive as a more relaxed version of myself, rather than allowing nerves to take up the entire room.

That principle applies at work too. A team that can laugh together often communicates more honestly. Humour, used with care, can make a serious discussion less intimidating and help people feel comfortable enough to contribute. It should never be used to belittle someone or cover up poor behaviour, but warmth can make professionalism more human.

Why joy belongs in a serious career

Broadcasting has taught me that people respond to authenticity. Audiences can sense when a presenter is performing a version of confidence that does not feel real. They also respond when someone is willing to be warm, spontaneous and occasionally amused by the strange business of being human.

The same is true in public speaking and leadership. Resilience is often described as the ability to keep going, but it also includes the ability to recover your perspective. When I work with organisations through my corporate speaking, I talk about the importance of creating cultures where people can be ambitious without becoming permanently tense. A laugh will not solve every workplace problem, but an atmosphere with no room for joy can make every problem heavier.

Owning my work and building a platform around subjects that matter to me has reinforced that lesson. Independence brings responsibility, but it also gives space for personality and playfulness. Reflecting on owning my own platform reminded me that freedom is partly about deciding how you want to communicate, including the right to bring humour into conversations about confidence, women’s wellbeing and personal growth.

Women are often encouraged to be agreeable but not too loud, polished but not intimidating, warm but never messy. Laughter can challenge those expectations. A woman laughing freely is not losing authority. She may be showing that she feels comfortable enough in herself not to monitor every sound, expression or movement.

Keeping the habit simple and personal

A laughter list works best when it is easy to use. Mine is not a performance of happiness, and I do not edit it to make it sound sophisticated. Some entries are only a few words long. Others are reminders of a story that would require several paragraphs to explain. The point is recognition: I see the note and immediately know what it means.

I also let the list change. Some things stop being funny, while others become funnier with time. New people add new references. A stressful period may reveal an unexpected source of amusement. The list is a living record of what brings lightness to my life now, rather than a fixed museum of old memories.

A few principles help keep it useful:

• Write down the moment soon after it happens, before the detail disappears.
• Include small, private sources of amusement rather than waiting for spectacular events.
• Add things that make you smile as well as things that make you laugh loudly.
• Keep humour kind, especially when it involves another person.
• Revisit the list without turning it into another task to complete perfectly.

There is no correct size for the collection. It could be three memories in a notebook or hundreds of observations in a phone. It could include a voice note, a photograph, a line from a book or the name of a friend who always makes you laugh. What matters is that it feels like yours.

Making room for the unexpected

One of the happiest effects of keeping the list is that it has made me more observant. I notice odd details because I know they may become part of a future story. The man carefully carrying a tiny dog in a raincoat, the unexpected wording on a sign, or the moment a serious meeting is interrupted by an unmistakable stomach rumble can all become gifts if I am paying attention.

This kind of attention is different from constant positivity. It does not require me to pretend that every day is delightful. It asks me to remain available to delight when it appears. That distinction is important. Life can be exhausting, unfair and deeply painful, but it can also be wonderfully absurd within the same hour.

Laughter has helped me become less suspicious of ease. I used to think I needed to earn rest or justify pleasure by being productive first. Now I understand that amusement is not a reward for having completed every responsibility. It is part of the energy that helps me return to those responsibilities with greater patience.

The list also protects memories that might otherwise be overlooked. We naturally record major milestones: birthdays, awards, first days, achievements and journeys. We are less likely to preserve the ordinary moments when someone made us laugh in the kitchen or when a silly misunderstanding brightened an otherwise forgettable afternoon. Those moments may be the ones we miss most.

A life that includes laughter is not a life without difficulty. It is a life in which difficulty does not get exclusive access to our attention. My list gives me a way to honour the funny, tender, ridiculous parts of being human — and to carry them with me when I need a reminder that lightness is still available.

If you are building a life, team or career with more room for resilience, connection and wellbeing, I bring these themes to audiences through personal, practical talks and hosted events. Visit my speaking and events page to explore how we can create a conversation that leaves people feeling understood, energised and ready to take their next step.