Joy in the in between.

I used to think joy was reserved for those who had everything together. Did everything the “right way”. I never considered it could be something I could learn to make space for. You know, like, never considered that joy could be something I choose, consistently

a rhythm to return to,

not just this fleeting feeling that visits when life behaves.

Joy always seemed like something that just happened, like, a spontaneous feeling that popped up when everything was finally in place, like when plans worked out, or a goal was reached, or I was somewhere beautiful with people I love, or doing something that made me feel more alive.

But here's what I’ve come to learn over time: Waiting for joy to “just happen” has a sneaky way of making it always feel just out of reach. It starts to feel like joy only belongs in the big, polished, highlight-reel moments

not the ordinary, messy ones.

So, I relearned joy. Still learning, and unlearning.

but I realize that joy isn’t just an emotion. It’s a state. A pattern. A practice. A choice.

Science tells us, joy activates parts of the brain that release calming chemicals, helping us feel more grounded, resilient, and connected. So It’s not fluff. It’s not something ‘extra’ for things going right. It’s actually how we return to wholeness, even in the midst of chaos.

Practicing joy; especially when life feels heavy isn’t avoidance. It’s medicine.

For a long time, I was chasing peace. closeure. healing. self forgiveness..

What I didn’t realize then was that what I truly longed for, was joy. 

and not the loud, confetti-in-the-air kind.But the kind that made me feel safe inside myself.

The kind that whispered, “Life is still beautiful, even in the middle of this.”

Over the years, I’ve come to understand something important:

Joy doesn’t cancel out grief.

Or sadness.

Or loneliness.

It exists alongside them.

And honestly? That’s where I’ve found it most.

I’ve felt joy in the middle of heartbreak.

I’ve laughed with my whole chest during seasons of deep transition and quiet depression.

I’ve lit candles and played music in my kitchen after crying on the bathroom floor.

Joy isn’t the reward for getting everything right. It’s the light that keeps showing up, even in the dark. It’s what reminds me that I’m still here. Still becoming.

I regularly write out “my joy list”, the things that light me up. It’s ever changing, but here are just a few things that reliably spark joy in me.

maybe they’ll remind you of your own:

1. Warm tea in a mug I love

2. Watching the sky change colors at sunset

3. Loud laughs with people who get me

4. Slow walks with no destination

5. A good playlist and a clean kitchen

6. That first deep breath after a long cry

7. Opening a brand-new journal

8. Writing with no pressure to be perfect

9. Unplugged weekends

10. The warm sun on my skin

11. Seeing someone’s face soften when they feel seen

12. The smell of lavender before bed

13. Dimming the lights and lighting a candle even on ordinary nights

14. Fresh linen and stretching my body out

15. Telling someone “I’m proud of you” and meaning it

    
    

Write your own list out, try it. and not the things you think should bring joy, but the ones that actually do. Even if they seem small. Or strange. Or silly.

Especially those.

and remember this on the hard days, joy is not always loud. It doesn’t always announce itself. Often, it’s quiet, tender, and hidden in the in-between moments. But it’s there.

Waiting for me. for you. for us. always.

Choose to make joy a daily practice.

And when life feels heavy, always return to it.

not as a way to escape, but as a way to come home to yourself.

With Grace,

Han