To those with a complicated relationship with joy
Birthday reflections pt. 1
13 years of living with Lupus and joy and I have been through it.
Last week, I turned 36. For the first time in a long time, I was excited. For no other reason, than I was happy to feel alive and hopeful (for real this time). In the 13 years of battling Lupus, I have become well-acquainted with the ongoing frustration of deferring and canceling both big and small goals and dreams. This has led me to reflect on my complicated relationship with joy.
By joy, I don’t mean happiness. Happiness, to me, is driven by something outside of you. When I speak of joy, I am referring to the state of enjoyment in your inner world.
Here are 3 lessons I learned that changed how I related to joy:
1. Find people that will not police your grief.
You gotta mourn. Let the tears erupt, if it so chooses. There's no avoiding the tears that come with endless disappointments. If you are surrounded by people who think your grief is you ‘complaining too much’ , they are not the ones to help you cultivate joy. If they keep telling you to ‘stay positive’ when you are neck-deep in your sorrow, they are not the ones. Find the people that give you permission to break, as they hold space for your lament.
If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive. — Brené Brown
2. How you relate to pain will determine your relationship with joy.
Picture yourself in a season where your prayers are being answered, yet you find yourself anxious about an impending disaster. The constant stream of negative news has made you skeptical of the good things that come your way, prompting you to question, "Who sent you?"
Your relationship to suffering is directly proportional to your relationship to joy. If you numb the pain, you can be present in the joy
3. Gratitude is an exercise that makes space for good.
I hate the saying "Just be grateful"... because it can be a form of spiritual bypassing. I'm not talking about dismissing all horrible things. I am talking about acknowledging the awful WHILE intentionally finding any shards of good left in all the pain… to hold onto, as an act of faith.
As a way of saying if this shrapnel of good survived, maybe you will to.
That kind of gratitude makes space for joy to land.
In our joy, we think we hear a whisper.
At first it is too soft. Then only half heard.
We listen carefully as it gathers strength.
We hear a sweetness.
The word is Peace.
It is loud now. It is louder.
Louder than the explosion of bombs.
How is your relationship with joy going?
Reading your letter, I inhaled what I perceived as solace in realizing it is not either/ or, but it can be both/ and. THANK YOU.
I am learning that JOY has many faces and many voices, it is beyond explaining to another. Joy longs to be partnered with no matter what the circumstance and it loves to help us in any way it can.
I thank you for this courageous piece. Yesterday’s journal entry was this: “I feel sadness today but a deep amount of joy too.” I’m learning that my joy doesn’t have to be linear. Thank you for again.