I’ve been known for being a very joyous person, even described as overly joyous by some.
It’s not unusual to see me dressed colourfully, taking fashion sense from Joseph and the Technicolour DreamCoat, literally stopping to smell the flowers, laughing at a decibel that makes a room quiet. Heck, my business is called The Happy & Healthy Place, where we find the joy in aligning with possibility. Joy is one of my core values.
Yet, at the moment I find myself struggling to really feel and be present to joy.
I am currently in a transition rooted deep in sadness and remorse. A change marked by a decision I never thought would cross my consciousness — I’ve left my marriage.
I started to doubt my ability to feel and experience joy.
Life no longer felt lived, but survived. A dark cloud looming over my very existence, not even a shadow of the joyful person I once was to be felt now.
Feelings of guilt creep up as I catch myself experiencing moments of joy and I find myself avoiding the things and experiences that typically lift me up. My brain is spinning with thoughts that tell me I’m not allowed to feel anything on the positive side of sadness. That I’m supposed to sit in the grief of heartbreak until….
Until when?
Until society tells me there has been enough time. Until I knit all the pieces of my identity back together. Until the chemical makeup of my physiology recalibrates and I no longer have to rely on pharmaceutical help of antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds.
Embodying the joyous person I once was doesn’t feel right at the moment. She’s in there, but it doesn’t feel safe for her to come out.
I find myself needing to discover a new way to experience joy. Not just the joy that is loud or obvious, anticipated with a planned event, or the expected joy with a momentous occasion, but the unexpected joy found in the everyday.
The joy that is experienced strolling through the grocery store being fully present; navigating a typically (for me) stressful, rigid situation differently. Discovering that no list is required when I’m fully embodied because I can choose items that nourish me on all levels. The joyful discovery of vegan, gluten free chocolate mint cupcakes.
The joy that is felt with gifting myself fresh cut flowers, helping to make a new space feel like home.
Discovering a calm, inner sense of joy when I’m simply sitting in silence, realizing that I am no longer holding my breath.
The joy that comes with the freedom of buying the very colourful artwork, just because it makes me smile.
I wasn’t noticing the simplistic, unexpected moments of joy because I was comparing them to what joy used to look like.
I was pushing away moments of joy because I didn’t feel like I was allowed to have them. I’m sad, so how can I have or feel any sort of joy? I am learning that we can experience conflicting emotions at the same time.
I don’t have to be sad or joyful, but I can be sad and experience joy at the same time. I can feel joy and frustration. Joy in uncertainty.
I’m learning it’s ok to feel and embody joy when everything isn’t perfect and life kind of sucks.
It’s ok to put on the music and dance around the kitchen when you feel paralyzed with shame.
It’s ok to put on the lipstick even when your eyes are glossed with tears.
It’s ok to wear the Fluevog’s even when you have no place to go.
I know the big, bold, laugh-until-you-pee-your-pants kind of joy will be experienced once again, but until then, I’ll navigate this dark situation by being fully present to the light that comes from the unexpected and simple moments of joy.
