Let’s get real: healthcare environments aren’t necessarily radiating good vibes. From the harsh lighting, stress-inducing wait times, and overall what-is-even-happening-to-my-body bewilderment, clinics can feel more like a season finale of Black Mirror than a healing environment.
→ And when you’re lying in a paper gown on a creaky exam table, the last thing you’re expecting is to hear “Noice!” from Brooklyn Nine-Nine on TV. But that surprise laughter? It breaks through the tension. It reminds you: you’re still human. And even amidst frightening diagnoses and cringe-worthy check-ups, joy still has a seat at the table.
Laughter Is Low-Key a Medical Treatment
Science confirms it: laughing = free dopamine. It lessens stress, strengthens immunity, and even numbs pain. That is to say, Schitt’s Creek may be doing your mental health more good than that expensive green juice.
→ Consider this: when you’re laughing at Moira Rose’s over-the-top wailing about her wigs, your body is actually releasing chemicals that make you happy. Your muscles unwind. Your breathing slows. And your brain gets a mini-vacation from going off the rails. It’s like a free serotonin shot in 1080p. Even hospitals are getting in on the action, incorporating humor into holistic health care. It’s not merely adorable—it’s clinically effective.
From Trauma Dumping to Binge Laughing
Let’s talk mental health. Sitcoms have become the emotional support water bottles of media. They’re portable, comforting, and always there when you’re spiraling at 2 a.m. Some therapists even use sitcoms as unofficial homework. Watching Ted Lasso unpack his panic attacks? That’s therapy.
And it hits different because it’s not preachy. You’re not reading a self-help book or hearing a podcast where someone is telling you to “breathe through it.” You’re just feeling with characters who are also hot messes—and somehow staying alive. Sitcoms let us off the hook for laughing at our own mess. And that laughter? It’s emotional resilience-building. Seeing Eleanor from The Good Place struggle (and fail) to be good? Same energy as us struggling to set boundaries in therapy.
Parasocial Besties = Free Dopamine
You ever get the sense you’re low-key best friends with the whole cast of Community? Or that you are Nick Miller from New Girl, barely holding on through late-stage capitalism with no chill and plenty of screaming? That’s not a flaw—it’s the feature.
Parasocial relationships aren’t memes—they’re effective coping strategies. In clinics, particularly where social isolation is genuine (shoutout to post-op recovery, psych wards, or extended treatment facilities), that feeling of connection is important. Watching familiar characters stumble through life provides a comforting ritual. They become emotional landmarks in a world where everything else is foreign. And honestly? Sometimes TV friends appear more than IRL ones.
Sitcoms as Emotional Support Shows
Certain clinics now even begun programming sitcoms into waiting rooms and treatment schedules. Pediatric wards? They’re using Phineas and Ferb or The Suite Life to calm down children’s pre-procedure. Geriatric wards? They’re offering Golden Girls reruns and family-friendly belly laughs.
But it’s not background noise. These programs are specifically selected—designed to lower cortisol, raise oxytocin, and decrease perceived pain. That is, sitcoms aren’t simply making patients feel better—they’re actually making them better. It’s emotional support TV with medical receipts. And as digital health tech continues to advance, we may even see clinics start offering curated “sitcom playlists” the way Spotify dispenses mood-lifting bops.
But Let’s Not Forget the Red Flags
Sitcoms aren’t a magic bullet. Not everybody finds The Office funny (strange flex but sure), and humor is hella subjective. And also, there’s a fine line between using comedy to deal and using it to avoid dealing—so therapists have to keep it real and not let sitcoms become a substitute for the tough convos.
Because let’s be honest: laughter can be a mask. A well-timed joke can hide a panic attack. A sitcom binge can become emotional escapism. And if we’re not careful, humor becomes the comfort food that prevents healing instead of helping it. That’s why ethical clinicians need to balance the LOLs with the real talk—using sitcoms as bridges to deeper therapy, not substitutes for it.
What’s Next? Laughter Playlists on Prescription
With mental health apps and teletherapy blowing up, we’re not far from getting personalized “healing humor” content. Imagine an app like Headspace, but it curates sitcom clips based on your mood.
Think: Netflix meets your therapist’s notes. You enter your vibe—”anxious, low energy, needs distraction”—and boom, it recommends Season 2, Episode 4 of Abbott Elementary. Or you’re in deep breakup territory? How I Met Your Mother, but early seasons only. This isn’t sci-fi. It’s already happening in pilot programs with AI-based content curation to meet emotional needs. Your next prescription might just be: “Watch one episode of Modern Family, three times a day with snacks.
Final Scene
Sitcoms in the clinic may sound silly, but to Gen Z (and anyone feeling this emotionally frenzied time), it totally makes sense. In a society permeated with burnout, doomscrolling, and late-stage capitalism, humor is more than relief—it’s salve.
And perhaps that’s the greatest plot twist of all: in our quest for healing, the most high-key effective therapy may be delivered by the low-key absurdity of sitcoms. So go ahead and hit play next time you’re frazzled and your brain is like 34 open tabs. You’re not only watching TV—you’re rebooting your nervous system. And honestly? That’s iconic.
for more follow HerCampus.