I (attempted to) choose joy
When I was in college, I had an on-again, off-again boyfriend, hook-up, fwb, situation-that-could-have-been-great-but-we-both-were-toxic. I can’t find the word for what we actually were, but it was an absolute disaster.
20/10 would not recommend.
But in my silly little brain, I decided it would be good to document our story and all of the moments that either told me we’d end up together, or we wouldn’t. This notebook was filled with snippets of text messages, AIM chats (lol), and retellings of conversations that could have been clipped into a teen rom-com trailer. And in my silly little brain, someday, these moments would be compiled into a book. It would be a heartbreaking story of what could have been. Book clubs, wine clubs, and angsty teens would sob into the pages, wondering what could have happened if they made different decisions.
This is one of the many examples of my obsession with things needing to “mean something” in order for them to be worth the emotional rollercoaster.
So a few years later, when I was beginning to process my divorce, I decided to document it in a new way. I still poured my heart into my journal, but I needed something else. A friend gave me a notebook that said “Choose Joy” on the front.
In that moment, I was pissed. I didn’t want to choose joy; I wanted to choose a misdemeanor … or arson. I wanted to choose to be petty, to throw a tantrum, to dig the deepest hole and hide in it for the rest of eternity.
I didn’t know how to choose joy.
So I decided to create a way to find it. In the journal, I clipped quotes that served as reminders of what comes next, after the hurt and grief and anger.
I clipped messages from friends and family showing their support and reminding me that I wasn’t alone.
I clipped and taped and scratched words of validation and optimism and love onto the pages of the book that said, “Choose Joy.”
I carried it with me like an emotional support water bottle (iykyk) for probably a year. I pulled it out every time I felt dissociated, alone, or like the world was crashing around me. So, every 3-4 minutes.
I let the words on the pages remind me that I didn’t have to have it all figured out right this second. I had people to turn to, and I was making the right choice for my future. The new path being forged was choosing joy.
Opening those pages, seeing the quotes, the words of love and support from friends and family, was choosing joy.
Feeling the full spectrum of grief and anger as I processed, was choosing joy.
Diving into self-care practices, therapy, energy healing, and a mindfulness practice was choosing joy.
And now I can see that it was the choosing that led to joy.