Playland Dispatches: A Grown Woman’s Guide to Getting Silly Again

Why Adults Need Play More Than Ever

At some point, I became very good at being an adult.

I schedule things. I show up on time. I take my vitamins. Most days. I even try to do laundry once a week. I can be composed, articulate, and emotionally intelligent. But lately, I’ve been wondering: when did I forget how to be ridiculous?

I mean the good kind of ridiculous. The loud-laughing, bad-cartwheel, sticky-fingers-from-popsicle kind. The kind where you dance terribly and know it. Where fun isn’t curated, just felt.

This summer, I’m taking a different approach. Less “optimize your life,” more “remember who you were before you thought you had to earn joy.” Reintroducing the version of me who knew how to find fun in the weirdest places—like pretending a stick was a sword or creating fake award shows in my bedroom. She didn’t need a reason. She just did it.

So here’s the question I’m leaning into right now: What would happen if we let ourselves be a little silly again?

Not performative, not for content, not even for healing—but because it feels good to laugh with your whole face. To wear something slightly off-beat. To get on the swing set without explaining yourself.

Somewhere along the way, a lot of us traded play for productivity. Wonder for efficiency. We grew up. We got hurt. We got polished. And slowly, play started to feel like a luxury—when it’s actually the whole point.

Recess isn’t over.

We just forgot how to show up to the playground.

This isn’t about being childish. It’s about reclaiming what play meant before the world told us how we were supposed to act.

When fun didn’t need to be justified.

When you danced silly on purpose.

When you didn’t need a reason to giggle until you couldn’t breathe.

Adults need play. Deeply. Desperately. We need it in the way kids need naps and snacks. Play reminds us we’re still alive—not just functioning. It doesn’t have to be big. It doesn’t have to be pretty. But it does have to be allowed.

So here’s what I’m inviting in this season:

• Things that don’t make sense but make me happy

• The freedom to be goofy without apology

• Trying something new and being kind of terrible at it

• Laughing until I snort

• Not taking myself so damn seriously

That version of us is still in there. They're just waiting for a sign that it’s safe to come out again.

No big transformation. No twelve-step healing framework. Just… room. Room to play. Room to experiment. Room to get it completely wrong and still feel good about it.

I’m calling this series Playland Dispatches, and each week I’ll be exploring a different way to bring joy, levity, and un-seriousness back into our grown-up lives. You’re invited, too.

We don’t need permission to do this—but sometimes it helps to hear someone say it anyway:

You’re allowed to laugh more.

You’re allowed to be chaotic and deep.

You’re allowed to suck at something and still have a blast doing it.

So here’s your invite to the recess you didn’t know you were missing.

Let’s wear something iconic.

Let’s get on the swings.

Let’s dance terribly, ON PURPOSE.

This is where we begin! This is where life becomes fun again!

And no, this isn’t about trying to be a kid either, it’s about reconnecting with the part of you that didn’t care what people thought—because you were too busy being in the moment to notice.

If you’ve been in your “serious era” for a little too long, consider this your permission slip to leave the group chat and head straight to recess. It’s not too late. The swings are still open. So is joy.

You may need to hear this—you’re allowed to be both healing and a little chaotic. A work in progress and a bubble-blowing weirdo. Someone who’s been through some heavy shit and also just wants to throw a water balloon.

This is where we begin.

Welcome to Playland. No ticket required.

Journal Prompt:

What did I love doing before I worried about how I looked doing it? And what's one small way I could try that again this week?