When being hilarious keeps you from connecting

​At our friend’s party, candles glowed on white tablecloths. Piano music played quietly in the background.

As usual, I felt socially awkward and uncomfortable. So I started telling jokes as soon as my husband and I walked in.

Because being funny was my mask. One of my clients called this being the court jester.

You perform instead of being present.

Don’t get me wrong: Humor is a gift.

And it's a brilliant coping mechanism you developed because you’re smart. Making people laugh lets you feel part of the group without revealing anything about yourself.

The problem is, it works too well. You feel liked in the moment, but alone after you leave.

Here's what I learned and what I shared with my client:

You can be quiet. Nobody will judge you.

Other people think about you way less than you suspect.

We all mostly focus on ourselves.

So if you let yourself be quiet, you can listen to what other people say. Not just the part that sets up your next punchline.

You might find yourself becoming curious.

A friend mentions they started learning to play the piano. Instead of making a joke about their feet reaching the pedals, you wonder why. Whether it’s hard. How they find time to practice.

Your curiosity is just as much as part of you as your sense of humor. It leads to asking questions. And real questions lead to connection.

Which beats landing a joke hands-down.

A growth experiment:

If putting on a jester’s mask in social settings feels familiar, try this at your next gathering:

When you feel the urge to jump in with a joke or clever comment, pause.

Instead of performing, just listen for a minute. Pay attention to what it feels like to be there without trying to entertain anyone.

Where do you feel that discomfort in your body? In your chest? Your throat?

That feeling is where your chance to connect starts.