Doing Joy.

The vulnerability of trust.

Can I write to you? My apologies, it has been a minute.

Like many of you I am sure, time is just moving far too fast. I spent the last half of 2024 trying to catch up to the last 4-5 years. Maybe there is no catching up, just moving with.

So, here I am, moving with. I did a lot of reflecting in December on the year, on the last several years, and feel myself leaning into a new chapter. The path is very unknown and I am trying to sit with that empty vision feeling. What I do know, is that I want to be more intentional about recognizing joy in my life. Sure, I can do pain, darkness, grief, sadness, depression, anxiety, chaos, and survival. But, can I do joy? Can I do healthy and soulful connection and recognize it as such?

When I reflected on last year it was complicated. There was grief and loss, but then there was determination and love. I mean, I ran the fucking Boston Marathon. I did me some joy. For me though, I think pain and dis-ease always take precedent in my mind over joy, actual love, health, and true connection. I think I was conditioned to be so aware of those things, so critical of those things, likely in a protective fashion, but at the risk of losing an eye for noticing the good stuff. The loss of letting the truly delicious parts of life seep into my bones, and stay. It’s the staying part that has always been hard. The tough stuff lingers within and it seems as though the good stuff is so fleeting. I want to work to change that.

I realized that having been in a bit of a survival state for the last several years I was too focussed on just staying afloat. But little did I realize that in the meantime I was actually laying a new foundation for us. Building a community, a home, stability, and love. I did it without even realizing it because I was so focussed on doing it- I missed it! I bloody missed that it actually came to fruition.

And now, that work is done. The roots have been planted. And now, because of that, there is room for expansion. There is room for more love, more fun, more joy. And holy hell, at this time, isn’t that what we are all craving? I realize, given the day, and what is feeling a bit ominous in the transition of power, we are all a bit uneasy. And yet, if I have learned anything over the years… joy is the rebellion. When all that want us stifled, quiet, silent, low, depressed, withdrawn, isolated, in despair, joy is the art of a warrior.

And do you know what I am realizing? Joy is utterly vulnerable, unnerving, and has me completely wrecked. In the most humbling and hilarious of ways. Because joy, deep joy, requires trust. It requires my trust to let it happen. To let the remarkable sparks of life unfold and trust that no one is coming for me because of it. To recognize that I am stronger and have more conviction than ever before, as most perimenopausal women do, and that my joy and life is mine for the making. I can only hope my joy is the kind that scares the hell out of people and shakes them awake.

Joy takes courage. It takes a willingness to want and to lean into the path of it unfolding. It takes asking things we wouldn’t normally ask. It takes communication. It takes heart space. It takes leaning into the discomfort of trying something new. (Like surrendering to your friends making you a dating profile because you can’t seem to stop sweating and yet the only places you go to meet someone are school pickup and Whole Foods, so they aren’t wrong to call you out.) It went something like, “no more books, go buy pants.” Called out. Yet so seen. Again, joy is humbling and hilarious!

My daughters and I even started a joy jar. It sits on our countertop and every time we do something together, or spend time with friends, try something new, or just want to put something in there, we write it on a neon index card and stick it in. My goal is to be able to open it next year and marvel at all that we actually DID do, not ju

st note the pain or loss in the year. Because truthfully, most of the time, amidst our pain, there is joy in-between, we just need to learn to let it stick.

So, here I am, doing joy. This morning it was a long walk in the woods, along the bike path, and stopped at my favorite spot for a hot tea. I soaked up the sun and just let my body move. Joy can be simple, we just have to be willing to recognize it.

Happy 2025 all. Thanks for being here with me. I appreciate you.

All the love,

ah