Why Playing is Good for You, According to Science

At an asylum seeker camp in Reynosa, Mexico, a makeshift school had been set up inside a church to bring some sense of normalcy to families displaced by violence, poverty, or political upheaval. Inside, kids gathered each day for basic lessons and structured play. Among the tools used was Rigamajig Jr.—a hands-on building set designed to foster creativity, learning, and collaboration. One young boy from Haiti stood out. Though around six or seven years old, he hadn’t spoken a word since arriving at the camp. Each day he showed up, but instead of joining the other children, he tucked himself under a table and stayed hidden there until it was time to leave. Then one day, volunteers quietly placed a few pieces of Rigamajig Jr. just beyond his hiding spot—an unspoken invitation to play. Slowly, he reached out from beneath his safe spot to inspect the pieces. Then he began to build. Within days, he emerged from under the table, assembling structures, sharing pieces with other children—and talking. He was reengaging with the world, one block at a time. That small moment illustrates something profound: play isn’t just a frivolous pastime for children. It’s a powerful, even essential, tool for healing. Sigmund Freud was one of the first to recognize the therapeutic potential of play. He believed it allowed for freer self-expression and wish fulfillment, and helped patients process traumatic events. In the decades since, play therapy has become a well-established clinical practice. While most often used with children, it can benefit people of all ages. That makes sense—kids don’t always have the language to talk about their feelings or experiences, but they all know how to play. “Play is as natural to children as breathing,” write Charles Schaefer and Athena Drewes, two leaders in the field. “It is a universal expression of children, and it can transcend differences in ethnicity, language, or other aspects of culture.” Schaefer, who passed away in 2020 and is widely considered the father of play therapy, identified 20 ways play can change behavior. Broadly, he categorized its benefits into four therapeutic domains: play facilitates communication, fosters emotional wellness, enhances social relationships, and builds personal strengths. These capacities touch nearly every aspect of mental health, including self-esteem, stress regulation, learning, empathy, and resilience. Psychiatrist Lenore Terr, an expert in using play to treat trauma, adds that play allows for a process called “abreaction“—the expression and release of emotions tied to traumatic experiences. Through symbolic play, children can enact their fears and begin to process them. Terr also identified two additional powers of play: context and correction. By exploring problems in multiple play settings, children gain new perspectives. And by reimagining outcomes—giving their stories new endings—they can begin to reclaim a sense of control. After 9/11, for example, therapists encouraged children to build towers from blocks and crash toy planes into them, helping them face fears in a safe and manageable way. In play we can take on the hard things. But the benefits of play are not limited to children. In adult therapy, play can serve as a form of release, a method of connection, or a tool for processing pain. Therapists often use games as icebreakers or group-building exercises. One counselor who worked with domestic violence survivors began every session with a simple balloon game: in pairs, the women had to keep a balloon from touching the ground. The laughter that followed helped shift the emotional atmosphere in the room—allowing participants to access difficult memories and begin doing the work of recovery. Other forms of therapeutic play, such as role-playing, allow adults to create psychological distance from painful experiences, rehearse new behaviors, and practice mindfulness. These tools may be simple, but they can be transformative. Play even has documented physical health benefits. A study of adults with Type 1 diabetes found that those who played regularly with their partners reported better mood, stronger coping skills, and a greater sense of support. In pediatric hospitals, play therapy has been shown to reduce anxiety and post-operative pain. And laughter itself has measurable physiological effects: it reduces stress, boosts mood, and even increases pain tolerance in experimental settings. In people with chronic pain, humor is often linked to better outcomes and improved quality of life. Still, what struck me most in Reynosa wasn’t just how play helped individual children cope. It was how play affected the entire community. Amid the grief, displacement, and uncertainty that mark the asylum seeker experience, play offered something universal and deeply human: relief. Connection. Joy. It’s similar to the way nature heals, even if we don’t interact with it directly. You don’t have to climb a tree to benefit from living near one. Just knowing a green space is nearby can lower blood pressure, boost mood, and reduce anxiety. Likewise, a space where children are building, laughing, and playing—even if only for a few hours a day—can become a sanctuary for everyone. That’s what I hope for the residents of Senda de Vida and camps like it. I hope individual children, like that quiet boy from Haiti, are transformed by creative play. I hope families find a moment of togetherness or levity. And I hope entire communities benefit from the shared act of building something joyful with their own hands—from materials at hand, with no instructions, and no guarantee of permanence. Displacement robs people of agency. It thrusts them into limbo. Play, in its purest form, returns a sense of control. It invites us to imagine. To rebuild. To begin again. Excerpted with permission from from PLAYFUL by Cas Holman with Lydia Denworth, published on October 21, 2025 by Avery, an imprint of Penguin Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House, LLC. Copyright © 2025 by Cas Holman.