Choosing Joy on Purpose
In my last post, I wrote about healing without a script, showing up honestly, leaning on your village, and allowing yourself the space to feel what needs to be felt. That kind of healing is brave, but it also raises a quiet question once the dust settles:
What now?
At some point, after the hard truths are named and the pain is acknowledged, we face a different kind of choice. Not the choice to pretend everything is fine, but the choice of how we move forward. Lately, for me, that has meant learning how to choose joy, on purpose.
This time of year can sometimes make that harder. The to-do lists are longer, calendars are fuller, and there is an unspoken expectation that joy should simply surround us. For some, it does. For others, this season feels heavy, especially for those who are grieving. Loss has a way of showing up more loudly during the holidays. Traditions feel different, empty chairs are more noticeable, and even joyful moments can carry an ache beneath them.
If that’s you, I want to say this gently: there is nothing wrong with you. The holidays can be hard, and pretending otherwise only makes them heavier.
Sometimes, you have to feel it to heal it.
Giving yourself permission to acknowledge the sadness, the longing, or the anger is not a failure; it’s part of the process.
That doesn’t mean staying stuck there. It can look like creating space to talk about who or what you miss, stepping away from traditions that no longer serve you, or building new ones that better fit this season of life. It can mean lowering expectations, asking for help, or simply choosing one small thing each day that brings a sense of steadiness.
That’s why it matters to say this out loud: joy doesn’t look the same for everyone. Choosing joy on purpose doesn’t mean forcing happiness or rushing past grief; it means honoring where you are and allowing joy to meet you there.
Joy shouldn’t be a reward we earn after everything is done. It’s found in the moments, big and small, that show up every day. We were each made to contribute to this world in a way only we can, and there is deep joy in honoring that journey, even when it’s imperfect.
Joy isn’t a reward for overcoming tough times; it’s a practice that helps you get through them.
Choosing joy doesn’t mean the hard things disappear. It means noticing what is still good, letting yourself laugh without guilt, receiving kindness rather than brushing it off, and creating space for what fills you up while setting boundaries around what drains you.
In this season, my daily readings and reflections have been central to my healing. I didn’t set out looking for joy, and yet it kept showing up as a common thread. Again and again, I was reminded that what we tend to look for, and what we choose to focus on, is often what we find. When we rush through our days or stay guarded in our pain, we can miss the small moments of joy that are quietly present. Slowing down, paying attention, and being intentional have helped me notice them.
Some days, choosing joy is simple. Other days, it’s a quiet act of courage. Both count.
If there’s one thing I hope you carry with you, it’s this: you don’t have to wait for life to settle down to experience joy. You don’t have to earn it. You don’t have to perform it. Joy is allowed to exist right alongside the unfinished, the uncertain, and the healing.
Tips for Finding Joy
Here are some strategies that have helped me in choosing joy on purpose:
Each night before bed, reflect on at least three things that brought you joy and share them with someone you care about.
Slow down and notice small moments of beauty in your day, even in ordinary tasks.
Set boundaries around activities or interactions that drain you and make space for what energizes you.
Engage in daily practices that help you feel grounded, such as reading, journaling, walking, or mindfulness.
Give yourself permission to laugh, rest, and celebrate small wins without guilt.
Detach to attach, put down the phone, shut the screen, quiet your mind, and be fully immersed in the moments that make up your day.
Don’t force it when it’s not there.
May you notice the moments that bring light to your days, however small they may seem. May you give yourself permission to experience joy in the way it finds you.
Doing the good work. Choosing joy, on purpose.
