Not Everything Needs Healing: Let Joy In Anyway

Somewhere along the way, many of us picked up the idea that joy has to be earned. That it comes after the lesson, after the breakthrough, after the journaling session that cracked us open. That joy is the reward for completing the healing, not something that can arrive in the middle of it.

And yet, here we are. Still healing. Still carrying what we carry. Still laughing at fox memes or crying at a song that feels like home.

Still catching golden slants of light through the window and thinking, Goddess, it’s beautiful. Even now.

That’s the thing. Joy doesn’t wait for permission.

It arrives like a surprise guest who doesn’t care if the house is clean.

You’re not broken, you’re becoming

The healing world can get noisy. Sometimes it can start to feel like everything needs fixing, and if you're not actively working on yourself at all times, you're doing it wrong. As if every ache, every moment of doubt, every misstep is another invitation to dig deeper, to unearth another root cause.

But what if some things don’t need deep excavation?

What if some things just need to be felt?

Or laughed about?

Or left alone?

Joy doesn’t contradict your pain

There’s this quiet fear many of us carry: that letting in joy before we’re “done” somehow undermines our growth. That we’re bypassing something, or being dishonest about where we are.

But here’s the truth I keep coming back to:

Joy is not the opposite of healing.

It’s part of it.

You can laugh while still grieving.

You can dance while still doubting.

You can feel whole for a moment without betraying the parts of you still mending.

"To get the full value of joy you must have someone to divide it with.”― Mark Twain

Joy doesn’t require a grand gesture.

It arrives in sips. Glimmers. Shimmers.

You just have to be willing to notice, and to let yourself receive.

Let joy in. Even now. Especially now.

Here are a few quiet ways I’ve been practising:

1. Bless the joy that shows up uninvited

When something lovely catches you off guard - a laugh, a bit of sun, the scent of a flower you didn’t plant, pause. Whisper “thank you.” Not because you summoned it, but because you noticed it. That’s magic too.

2. Create a joy jar

Not a gratitude journal. Not another tracker. Just a jar. Whenever something makes you smile or feel a bit more alive, write it down and drop it in. Don’t overthink it. Don’t read them back too soon. Just let them gather.

3. Make joy an act of defiance

When the world feels too much, choose a joy that feels slightly rebellious. Eat the thing you’ve been saving. Play the ridiculous playlist. Wear something completely inappropriate for the weather. Let joy remind you you’re still here. Still choosing. Still yours.

Defend your joy like it matters, because it does

June has been all about protection.

We’ve talked about guarding your gold, preserving your peace, fortifying with love.

Now we end with this: you don’t need to protect your joy from yourself.

You don’t need to justify it.

You don’t need to hold your breath waiting for the next hard thing.

You’re allowed to feel good. Not because everything is perfect, but because joy itself is a kind of holy medicine.

Let it in.

Let it stay.

Let it be enough.