You’re allowed to feel joy despite all the suffering right now
When joy comes at what seems to be an inappropriate time, when the world is on fire, and there is much to question, mourn, and figure out,
Just. Breathe.
There could not be a more important time to allow your joy to take up space than now.
Part of the hesitation to feel joy can come from not wanting to flaunt it or push it onto others as they experience grief, almost as though your joy could hurt or offend them or devalue what they’re going through. But there is room for it all: grief and joy, and other things, too. And while there are boundaries and compassion and the generosity of allowing space for others to feel and express, you do not have to abandon yourself or your joy to do this.
Another reason we might be reluctant to experience joy is the fear that it will be quickly and thoroughly taken from us, and the pain will be too great to bear if we enjoy our joy too much and for too long.
Brené Brown addresses this in her book, Atlas of the Heart. She says this:
“Joy is the most vulnerable human emotion. Given that I study fear and shame, people are hesitant to believe that something as positive as joy can make us squirm. Then I share what is almost certainly the most surprising finding for most people: If you’re afraid to lean into good news, wonderful moments, and joy—if you find yourself waiting for the other shoe to drop—you are not alone. It’s called “foreboding joy,” and most of us experience it. When we lose our tolerance for vulnerability, joy becomes foreboding. No emotion is more frightening than joy, because we believe if we allow ourselves to feel joy, we are inviting disaster. We start dress-rehearsing tragedy in the best moments of our lives in order to stop vulnerability from beating us to the punch. We are terrified of being blindsided by pain, so we practice tragedy and trauma. But there’s a huge cost. When we push away joy, we squander the goodness that we need to build resilience, strength, and courage. The good news? In our research we found that everyone who showed a deep capacity for joy had one thing in common: They practiced gratitude. In the midst of joy, there’s often a quiver, a shudder of vulnerability. Rather than using that as a warning sign to practice imagining the worst-case scenario, the people who lean into joy use the quiver as a reminder to practice gratitude.”
In this sense, joy becomes vital, not only for your thriving but your survival, your courage, your ability to move through whatever it is you're going through, from the personal to the global. It is exactly now that we need to allow joy to keep our hearts soft and connective, open and receptive. When we deny ourselves joy, we run the risk of shutting ourselves off from creativity, care, integration, and the nourishment our resilience needs to build strength into our bones and souls.
So if joy rises in you at times where it feels awkward, dangerous, and perhaps offensive and insensitive, before you do anything,
Just. Breathe.
Push through the fear and any perceived shame. As you breathe into it, imagine joy filling up those empty spaces within you, the ones that feel cold and alone, weak and in need of care; push your joy into the corners and cracks that are cluttered with pain and are leaking confusion. Joy is your medicine. And if you share it, it will be that for others, too.
Consider this: “We need joy as we need air. We need love as we need water. We need each other as we need the earth we share.” Maya Angelou.
From my upcoming New Year’s series, "Just Breathe" this week with a subscription in the App.
Written by Liz Milani
Instagram: @thepracticeco
