Summary

The author reflects on the interplay between hardship and joy, emphasizing the necessity of actively seeking joy amidst life's challenges and losses.

Abstract

The author of the article shares a personal perspective on the nature of life, acknowledging its difficulties and the importance of resilience. They describe life as a series of challenges, from minor inconveniences to profound grief, and suggest that joy must be diligently sought after, much like a four-leaf clover. The author recounts experiences of adversity, such as car troubles and personal betrayals, and the proactive steps taken to cope with them, including reaching out for support and practicing self-care. Despite the loss of loved ones and moments of self-doubt, the author finds that joy can unexpectedly emerge, offering solace and a reminder of life's beauty. The article encourages readers to remain vigilant for moments of joy, framing them as essential to enduring the inevitable pains of life.

Opinions

The author views themselves as a realist, acknowledging life's hardships but also actively seeking joy.
There is a skepticism towards situations that seem too good to be true, with the author advising caution and due diligence.
The author believes that joy, while sometimes elusive, is a crucial component of life that provides balance to the pain and struggle one faces.
The article suggests that personal growth and the ability to find joy are often born out of life's struggles and traumas.
The author expresses that while no one is there to reward you for persevering through tough times, the strength and resilience gained are valuable in themselves.
The author emphasizes the importance of being present to recognize and appreciate moments of joy when they occur.

Joy is Sandwiched Between Moments of Holding it Together and Pain

Welcome to life, my friend. Now get to work

Photo courtesy of Christopher Campbell via Unsplash

I don’t consider myself a pessimist. My therapist once called me a realist, and let’s face it — she knows me better than anyone at this point.

Probably I’m a little cynical. I’m at the stage of life where I recognize that if it’s too good to be true, you should probably hang up the phone and call a Dateline producer or your local FBI office.

I’m also at the age where I not only celebrate joy when it arrives, but I actively search for it like a four-leaf clover in my grandmother’s ten-acre field. It’s there, but sometimes you have to get down on your hands and knees, lower your face to earth, and painstakingly go through each tender stalk until you find it.

When I was a teen and going through some drama or other — which likely involved a car being inoperable and my freedom and independence being sidelined — my dad told me, “Life is hard. Get over it.” He followed that up with, “You’ll see who your real friends are when you don’t have a car to chauffeur them around in.”

Turns out, he was right on all counts.

Life is hard. Some days it feels like a shit sandwich. The car won’t start. The boss is unreasonable. The promotion didn’t happen. The coffee lid flew off, burnt you, and stained your favorite shirt. Your boyfriend ghosted you and then posted pics of himself with your bestie. The cat threw up on your new shoes, and the vet bill is more than your mortgage.

Been there, done that.

All you can muster is trying your best to hold it together — what feels like holding down the lid on a pot boiling over the sides.

You take a deep breath and call the mechanic. You send an email to your boss outlining your strategy and request help. You cry in the bathroom about the job you didn’t get and tell yourself that something better is right around the corner. You toss the coffee, put on your spare shirt, and vow to only drink coffee at home in your trusty mug. You punch the pillow about your boyfriend, eat some Ben & Jerry’s, and silently wish him well. You toss the shoes, call the vet, and make payment arrangements.

You draw a hot bath, pull out your favorite jammies, and tell yourself that tomorrow is another day.

You might not know it yet, but you’ve got this. Part of the shit sandwich, however, is that there is no one standing there to give you a medal for your stoicism and/or heroism. And, boy, do you ever deserve one.

While I’m at the stage of life, where I question people on the other end of the phone who want to give me a ‘deal’ that is only good for the next 30 minutes, I’m also at the stage of life where the conveyor belt is bearing down on me.

My dad, mom, aunts, uncles, and grandparents are all gone. One of my siblings and three of my cousins, gone. Not to mention a handful of friends as well as a couple of fur babies.

Some days the grief is overwhelming.

In the midst of holding it together, we are the walking wounded. We are each mired in pain of some kind — from the every day slights to the unfathomable traumas. We are processing, emoting, dealing — or perhaps not dealing — with our pain.

And that’s why joy is so paramount to our existence and why we must actively search it out.

In the midst of the grief, there are days and weeks where I feel like I’m just trying to hold my shit together. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m faking it until I make it whilst shadow boxing the imposter syndrome that stalks me. “You’re not an artist! You’re not a writer! Look at that crap…”

There are days when I question my marriage, my choices, my wardrobe, my hair…it’s exhausting.

But then I experience a moment of joy, and it all drops away.

Sometimes it drops in my lap like when I see a cardinal fly past the window when I’m having coffee. In those moments, I am grateful that I was present, with my eyes open to experience the gift in front of me; otherwise, I would have missed it altogether.

Other times I work at it by showing up at my easel, putting on some music, and talking down the monkeys in my head. Or perhaps I slog over to my yoga mat cajoling myself with, “Just five minutes and then you can quit,” and before you know it, an hour has passed by and the clouds in my mind have lifted just enough to allow some joy in.

Those moments of joy are worth the effort.

You can’t dodge pain or the lemons that life serves up.

Pick up the Bible or study the teachings of the Buddha. Life is pain. The more we learn to accept and lean in, the easier it will be, but no one said it would be easy…

Oysters/pearls, mud/lotus — there are countless parables that teach us that life’s struggles are what turn us into gold.

Keep holding it together. Keep leaning into the pain. Joy will show up. You just have to be awake and present to see it. Open your eyes. Look for the cardinals. They’re there.