Sometimes it happens in the middle of a spiral.
Right between the third loop of overthinking and the familiar ache of “what even is the point.”
And then—there it is. Joy.
Uninvited. Inconvenient. Almost suspicious.
Someone says something unexpectedly hilarious.
A song comes on that shouldn’t hit that hard but does.
Or maybe the light filters through the window just right, and for half a second, it’s enough.
Not everything. Not forever.
Just… enough.
It’s easy to miss these moments if you’re looking for the right kind of joy.
The earned kind. The “after the healing” kind.
The kind that’s supposed to arrive once you’ve finally figured it all out and are fully present and regulated and drinking enough water.
But that’s not usually how it shows up.
Real joy—the kind that interrupts rather than rewards—has no sense of timing.
It doesn’t care if you’re grieving.
Or burnt out.
Or standing in line at the pharmacy, wondering if this is just how life feels now.
Joy doesn’t wait for things to be resolved.
It doesn’t need closure.
It just wants in.
And when it does sneak in, it’s not always flashy.
Sometimes it’s absurd. Or quiet.
Sometimes it’s just the tiniest opening in the heaviness.
A laugh that catches you off guard.
A softness that wasn’t there five minutes ago.
A weird sense of aliveness you didn’t think you had access to anymore.
It doesn’t mean you’re done hurting.
It doesn’t mean you’re bypassing anything.
It just means there’s more than one thing happening at once.
Which is how most real healing feels.
Not like clarity. Not like relief.
But like contradiction.
Joy in the middle of grief.
Stillness in the middle of chaos.
Laughter in the middle of nothing getting better.
Sometimes the most honest thing isn’t the pain.
It’s that even with the pain… something moved.
And you noticed.
So if joy shows up unannounced, right in the middle of everything—maybe let it.
You don’t have to understand it to trust that it’s real.
Embracing Shadows, Illuminating Hope,
Chelsey Fjeldheim, LCSW
Empowering Souls on the Path of Healing
Copyright © 2025 Chelsey Fjeldheim, Courage Speaks Counseling
