Joy : Write 28 Days

Joy . . . comes when you make peace with who you are, why you are and how you are.  

www.psychologies.co.uk › joy-vs-happiness

Last night I walked through my home and realized I felt something I hadn't felt in quite some time. I stopped in my kitchen and looked around. I have all new appliances that replaced the very dated and wonky appliances that came with my place when I bought it 3 1/2 years ago. Everything looked nice and clean and well ordered. As I wandered through the rest of the condo I realized again the peace, ease, and comfort I was feeling. I wondered what to call that feeling.

Just before heading to bed I checked the list of prompts for this challenge. I like to sleep on the next word. To let my resting mind play with it before I write the next day. The prompt was "Joy", and when I woke up this morning I had the name for my feeling.

By now you know words are extremely important to me. I try not to choose words randomly, but rather with care and consideration. There are nuances that I need to express in the words I use especially those used to describe feelings. So it was vital to find the right word to describe what I had felt.

I did a quick Google search and found the quote at the beginning of this post. I really liked the word "peace" and the ideas of who, why, and how. The next line in the article compared joy and happiness -- whereas happiness tends to be externally triggered and is based on other people, things, places, thoughts, and events.

And that's it in a nutshell. Joy is of my own making and doing. It's a choice. A place I come to on my own. Happiness is externally triggered. Joy is internally triggered. 

Let's be clear, I'm all about the happiness and I have lots of people and things that trigger me in very lovely ways, but joy. Ahhh, joy is mine alone to trigger. To create. To embrace. And that is an affirming and validating thing.

I Find Joy in . . .

Connecting with people on a deeper level.

I know, right? Sounds a bit odd for an introverted survivor of childhood sexual abuse, but it's true. The introverted part of me has to take it in small steps. A few people at time, for a relatively short period of time.

This past weekend I did a retreat and it was fabulous, but by the time I got home Sunday night I was way over my people interaction, talk, and share quota, so I had to settle down in quiet with my eye bag and some rest to fend off a migraine. But it was so worth it!

I got to talk, share, and listen to like minded women about life's hurts, how we deal with them, and what we do with the lessons we learn. To be surrounded by 15 other women who've had their own hurts and are willing to embrace them, talk about them, and learn from them is so fulfilling and validating. And to have the opportunity to give back to others who understand pain and brokenness not as the end of something, but rather as the beginning of everything brought so much joy to my spirit.

I don't do chitchat well. I can't stay superficial for very long -- it's one of the good news/bad news aspects of my life experiences. These women didn't dwell in chitchat either! I've done spiritual retreats before, but most of them were more inwardly focused, and that's been a very good, very healing experience for me. But this one was more about others and how I can use my pain and hurt to connect with and love others. It's something I try to do here in this space, and something I want to get better at. 

I trusted in the safety of that space and those people. In God's love and protection. That he guided me to this event because he knew it was the right time and space for me. I told the participants and leaders at the the end of it all my biggest take away was that I NEVER got scared, panicked, or felt the need to run away and hide. I received words of validation, support, and praise without pushing them away. And hugs. Oh the hugs and loving touch. No desire to run. Open receptive arms from all of them and toward all of them. 

The blessing of realizing that it doesn't diminish or minimize my history to be able to talk about it and survive the sharing of it was remarkable. I am filled with hope and love from the weekend. And joy. Lots of joy.



(KarenBeth over at Finding the Grace Within offers a weekly link called Tuesday at Ten, so today I'm linking up with her.)

The Joy of the Lord

Joy -- the emotion evoked by well-being, success, or good fortune or by the prospect of possessing what one desires :  delight

I'm not feeling it this morning. I read that definition and I know that joy has been in short supply in our house of late. There are no great tragedies or difficulties going on in our lives. We are just short on joy lately. 

I wonder how to bring the joy back. I look at that definition and I see "the prospect of possessing what one desires" and I think that's part of the problem. Me wanting to have (hold, control) what I want. 

It's all about me. Things rarely turn out well if my focus is that me-centered. 

But if I turn it around and remember: the joy of the Lord is your strength (Neh. 8:10) -- suddenly it's not about me anymore.

It's what God desires that will bring me joy. But first I will have to listen.

linking up with Five Minute Friday

'Tis a Gift . . .

A week ago Saturday I stood in the meeting house of a Shaker village. The building is acoustically perfect. After the crowd had left, my husband and I stayed behind. He began to sing, and I realized that I wanted to sing in that place of perfection. I stood in the center of the room (the sweet spot, if you will) and I sang any hymn that came to mind. One of the staff came from across the road to see what was going on, and I apologized. She told me it was lovely and that was what had drawn her there.

My husband and I continued to sing, and a group of visitors came in to listen. I didn't stop singing, because I wanted to sing. 

Singing used to be my primary form of communication with my own heart. Over the years, I let it fall to the wayside. I'm not sure why or how that happened. Maybe it was just the cumulative affect of all the struggles to get through each day. Maybe it was one too many critics - internal and external. Maybe it was my need for perfection, or my belief that I couldn't sing without an audience. Who knows. What I'm learning now is that I can sing for myself - for my own enjoyment. And if it's not always perfect, that's okay too, because as emily wierenga wrote recently:

In his memoir, All is Grace, Brennan Manning recalls words that Brother Dominique Voillaume said to him: “You are on the threshold of receiving the greatest grace of your life. You are discovering what it means to be poor in spirit. Brother Brennan, it’s okay not to be okay.”

It's okay not to be okay. What a relief.

Blessings.

Does Joy = the Presence of God

I'm struggling right now. I want to write something uplifting and helpful, but the truth is I'm in need of help myself right now.

I had another flashback last week, in the middle of a massage. I got through it, but it's one more piece of the past to be looked at now. And this week I had a physical (which always brings on stress). I saw a different doctor in the group, and she made me feel badly about some of the medication I take. Finally, I'm struggling in the parent department -- not my parents (although that's almost always a background issue), right now I'm struggling as a parent. My daughter has been un-diagnosed with bipolar II disorder, which is a potentially great thing. But, it's really topsy turvy emotionally around the house right now. There's fear, expectations, anger, disappointment, frustration, depression, anxiety, self-doubt -- and those are just a few of the feelings floating around last night!

I've said it so many times before -- all I want is normal. I know, I know -- normal's just a setting on the washing machine, but I crave it like a junkie craves his next hit.

I'm supposed to be writing about joy, but all I've got coursing through me right now is a lot of fear, anxiety, anger, and doubt. And I've prayed, and I've read my Bible, and I'm stepping forward in faith, but I'm still afraid, and angry, and doubting my every thought and move.

Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J. said, "Joy is the most infallible sign of the presence of God." And if that is true, then I am in a world of trouble right now, because joy is not on my list. 

linking up to imperfect prose on thursday

Day 2 of 31

So Ann is writing about crazy joy. Her post today gave me a lot to think about.

I consider myself to be a joyful person. In general I try to see the good, find the humor, and enjoy the little things. But sometimes (often lately) all of that is made more difficult by the memories of abuse I carry with me.

I've had people say more than once, "It was a long time ago. You need to let it go", as if I am deliberately holding on to the pain. I have worked hard to understand what happened and not focus on the why, but accept that it wasn't my fault, and it shouldn't have happened.

But it's hard to connect. I stand in the foyer after services at church and I try to reach out and speak, but so many people rush by. I am alone although surrounded by good, caring people. And I don't know what I'm doing wrong.

I had a counselor tell me once, it would be easier for others if I had cancer. People know what to do with cancer, they don't know what to do with abuse. I'm glad I don't have cancer. 

So this is the real me. I am joyful at the sight of twin baby girls next to me during worship, but crying in pain as a little girl stands at the front and sings out purely, "Yes Jesus loves me".

We are all pain and joy. It's the blending that is so difficult.

linking up with Lisa-Jo and Ann Voskamp