To the Person Who Forgot How to Feel Joy,
I want to start by saying something you may need to hear.
Forgetting how to feel joy does not mean joy is gone forever.
It may only mean that somewhere along the way, life got heavy enough that joy had a hard time breaking through.
And that is not a character flaw. That is not ingratitude. That is not a sign that something is permanently wrong with you.
That is what happens when a heart has been through a lot.
Maybe you used to laugh more easily. Maybe you used to look forward to things in a way you do not quite feel anymore. Maybe there are moments that should feel good — celebrations, milestones, ordinary beautiful days — and you notice yourself going through the motions while something inside you stays strangely unmoved.
Maybe you have started to wonder if you are broken. Maybe you have felt guilty for not feeling more joyful when your life, by some measures, looks fine from the outside. Maybe you have been waiting for joy to return on its own and quietly losing hope that it will.
I understand that more than you might think.
I know what it is like to sit in the middle of a moment that should feel good and feel very little. I know what it is like to go through seasons where joy felt like something that belonged to other people. I know what it is like to smile on the outside while something inside you is still waiting to thaw.
And I know what it is like to slowly discover that joy was not as far away as it felt.
I want to offer you something gently.
Joy is not the same as happiness.
Happiness is a feeling that comes and goes depending on circumstances. It rises when things go well and dips when they do not. It is real, but it is not reliable.
Joy is different.
Joy is deeper. It is not dependent on everything going right. It is not a feeling you produce by willing yourself to feel better. And unlike happiness, joy is not something the world gave you.
Joy was given to you by God.
Which means the world does not have the authority to permanently take it.
It can be crowded out. It can be buried under hard seasons and heavy grief. It can feel distant for a long time. But it cannot be permanently stolen from a heart that is rooted in the Lord.
I grew up hearing a truth that has carried me through some of my hardest seasons. The idea that the joy I carry was not given to me by this world. And because the world did not give it, the world does not have the power to take it away.
That truth became a lifeline for me. Because there were seasons when everything around me seemed to be conspiring to steal my joy. And in those moments, I had to remind myself where my joy came from in the first place.
It came from God. And God is always ready to help you find your way back to it.
Rediscovering joy is not about manufacturing a feeling. It is not about pretending the hard things are not hard. It is about returning to the Source.
God gave it. God guards it. And when the weight of life has buried it under layers of grief, exhaustion, and survival, God is the one who helps you uncover it again.
That is important to understand because sometimes we miss joy while we are waiting for the big version of it to return.
We wait for the dramatic moment of feeling fully alive again. And in the meantime, we overlook the small ones.
The warmth of sunlight through a window. The sound of a song that reaches something in you. A moment of genuine laughter that surprises you. A conversation that leaves you feeling less alone. A quiet morning that feels almost peaceful.
Joy often finds its way back through the small things first.
I also want to say something about celebration.
Many of us have spent so long surviving that we forgot how to mark the good moments. We push past progress without acknowledging it. We minimize what we have overcome because the next challenge is already in front of us. We tell ourselves that celebration is for when we finish, when we arrive, when we have done enough.
But that is not how healing works.
Healing asks you to celebrate along the way. Not because everything is perfect. But because you are still here. Because you are still trying. Because every small step forward is worth acknowledging.
You survived the thing that tried to break you. You are still standing after seasons that could have taken you out. You are still reaching for healing even when it is hard.
That is worth something. That is worth more than you have probably allowed yourself to believe.
So maybe today, joy does not look like a feeling that floods over you all at once. Maybe today it looks like noticing one small thing that is good. Maybe it looks like giving yourself credit for one thing you have survived or overcome. Maybe it looks like allowing yourself to celebrate one small step instead of waiting until you reach the end.
And on the days when joy still feels distant, remember where it came from. It was not given to you by your circumstances. It was not given to you by the people in your life. It was not given to you by how well things are going.
It was given to you by God. And God is still in the business of restoring what hard seasons have buried.
Joy finds its way back. Not always dramatically. Not always all at once. But faithfully. Quietly. In the small and sacred moments you choose to pay attention to.
And you deserve to feel it again. Not someday. Now. In the middle of the healing. In the middle of the becoming. Right here, where you are.
With compassion,
Mary