Finding Your Joy When Life Feels Like Too Much

Life rarely waits for the “perfect moment” to get easier before asking us to smile again. Chaos doesn’t pause for us to catch our breath. The bills still come. The kids still need us. Our bodies ache, relationships stretch thin, and somewhere inside all of it, we start to wonder if joy is a luxury we can’t afford.

But here’s the truth: joy isn’t something you wait to feel — it’s something you choose to create. Even in the middle of the mess. Especially in the middle of the mess. Because joy isn’t denial, and it isn’t pretending. It’s remembering that your light still exists beneath the noise and learning how to reach for it again.

Let’s be honest, sometimes life is a lot. You can love your life and still feel completely overwhelmed by it. Medical issues, relationship struggles, kids who need you in five directions at once—it’s no wonder joy feels far away. But you don’t have to wait for life to calm down to feel good again. In fact, waiting is what keeps joy out of reach. Chaos doesn’t have an expiration date, and neither does your ability to experience light, even in the darkest moments. Joy doesn’t erase pain; it simply makes space for both to exist at once.

Joy doesn’t always look like laughter or excitement. Sometimes it’s a quiet exhale when you realize you made it through another day. It’s a cup of coffee you actually drink while it’s still hot. It’s that one song that makes you remember you’re still alive inside. For me, joy shows up in the smallest, most ordinary ways—and that’s what makes it so sacred. It’s seeing my kids come through the door after school, their faces tired but safe. It’s watching my dog, Peattie, find a toy he thought was lost forever, tail thumping like it’s the best day of his life. It’s seeing my best friend become a grandma, watching the way love comes full circle in that moment. It’s watching my nephew play baseball and seeing the pure focus and excitement on his face. It’s my niece learning to walk and then running toward me, full of trust and laughter. It’s watching the landscapes of New Mexico shift color with the light or sitting quietly by the ocean, feeling the rhythm of something bigger than myself. Those are the moments that remind me: joy doesn’t need grand gestures. It just needs noticing.

When life feels heavy, joy might start small, almost invisible. But those tiny moments are your lifeline. Create small rituals—light a candle before bed, step outside first thing in the morning and let the air hit your face, put on music while you clean. Rituals tell your body, “I’m still here, and I’m still choosing to care.” Let people in. Joy multiplies in connection. Even if you’re exhausted or hurting, let someone love you. Let them remind you who you are when you forget. Move your body. Walk, stretch, dance in your kitchen. Movement brings energy back to stagnant places. It’s not about exercise; it’s about life flowing again. Stay present. Notice one thing each day that’s still beautiful—a color, a sound, a smell. Presence is where joy lives.

There will be days when joy feels out of reach, when you’re tired, irritable, or too sad to try. On those days, let joy begin as an act of faith. Do one small thing that could bring joy, even if you don’t feel it yet. Make the coffee. Go for the walk. Sit in the sun. Smile, even if it feels forced. Because joy doesn’t always start as a feeling; sometimes it starts as a choice. And over time, that choice becomes a rhythm. That rhythm becomes strength. And that strength becomes healing.

Joy is not a luxury emotion. It’s medicine. It restores what pain depletes. It reminds you that you’re more than what’s hurting. Even when your circumstances don’t change, joy changes you. It gives you back your breath, your softness, your capacity to hope again.

You don’t have to wait for the storm to pass to dance again. You can dance in the rain, cry while laughing, and find beauty in a life that isn’t perfect. So today, even if the world feels heavy, look for one small thing that’s still beautiful. Let that be enough for now. That’s where joy begins...