Finding Joy Through Grief: A Journey Toward Healing and Peace
Where do we find joy when life feels overwhelming? It’s a question many of us wrestle with, especially during difficult times. For me, joy wasn’t always easy to recognize. It took years of navigating grief, loss, and healing to understand that joy is often a byproduct of peace—a peace that can only be found when we allow ourselves the time to grieve and have faith that joy will return.
The Power of Ritual
Every evening, I indulge in a simple ritual that brings me immense comfort. I apply moisturizer to my face, and in that brief moment, I find peace. As I unscrew the cap, the calming scent greets me. It is familiar, as I have used the same product for years. I am convinced that there is some magical ingredient that soothes me right down to my core. With each gentle stroke of the cream on my skin, I feel my pulse slow, and a sense of calm washes over me. It’s a small act, but it’s one I look forward to daily, a moment that reminds me of the joy that still exists in the quiet corners of life.
This small ritual isn’t just about skincare—it’s a symbol of the importance of creating space for peace and comfort, even in the smallest ways. It’s a reminder that joy doesn’t have to be grand or elusive; sometimes, it’s in the most ordinary moments.
Allowing Time to Grieve
My journey to joy was far from straightforward. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine feeling anything other than sadness. Life had thrown my family and me into the depths of grief, what felt like time and time again. After a series of life-altering events, including what I consider the turning point - a traumatic experience with intensive care, blood transfusions, operations, infections, and stage III colon cancer, I found myself in a place of profound loss. Cancer, a thief, robbed me of my sense of security, my health, my career, and the life I once knew. The joy I had once felt holding space for mothers and babies was replaced by fear, anger, and uncertainty, leaving me to navigate a new and unfamiliar reality. The grief I had experienced from a variety of prior traumas was suddenly the least of my worries. I became all too aware of my expiration date.
In those moments, it’s tempting to rush through the pain, to hope that ignoring it will make it go away. But I learned that grief demands to be felt. It needs time and space to be acknowledged. I had to sit with my sorrow, feel the weight of it, and give myself permission to grieve what was lost—the life I once knew, the sense of security, and the dreams that seemed shattered. Cancer was the first time in my life, a life seemingly riddled with one traumatic event after the next, that I sat in despair and rightfully wallowed, until I just couldn’t wallow any longer. I forced myself to take all the time I needed, and to feel all of the emotions, processing them one by one. As it turns out, I ended up processing decades of unresolved emotions. Once all of those layers had been peeled back and the core was revealed, it was there that I first discovered the truest form of peace.
Faith in Joy’s Return
When I was unable to find faith, my community found it for me. In my darkest moments, they stepped in and reminded me of who I am and what I’m capable of. They lifted me up when I couldn’t stand on my own, carried my family through the most difficult times, and rejoiced with me on the days when I was able to glimpse a future for myself once again. They became my light when I couldn’t see my way forward, holding hope for me until I was ready to hold it for myself.
Amidst the darkness, there were glimmers of hope. While I couldn’t feel joy, I clung to the belief that one day, I would. My community’s unwavering support gave me the strength to trust that if I allowed myself the time and space to grieve fully, joy would find its way back to me. It’s not an easy faith to maintain when you’re in the thick of pain, but it’s essential. Holding onto the possibility of joy’s return is what kept me moving forward, even when every step felt unbearably heavy.
This faith wasn’t about ignoring the present pain or pretending it wasn’t there—it was about believing in the future. It was about trusting that joy wasn’t gone forever but was simply waiting for me to heal enough to feel it again. My community’s belief in me became my bridge to that faith, and slowly, step by step, I began to believe in it too.
The Path to Peace
As time went on, the grief didn’t disappear—it softened, becoming a part of me rather than all of me. I began to seek peace, not as an escape from grief but as a way to move through it. Looking back now, I realize I wasn’t consciously seeking peace at first—it was more of a survival instinct than an intentional act. Yet, peace found its way to me in small, quiet moments: a walk under the warmth of the sun, the comfort of a cup of tea, collage art projects shared with a dear mentor and friend, my angel buddy who had walked the same cancer journey before me and lit the way, and even the soothing, steady rhythm of my evening skincare routine. Each of these moments became steps toward healing, gentle reminders that life—even after profound loss—could still hold pockets of beauty.
Seeking peace required me to let go of old expectations and reimagine what life could look like. It meant finding the courage to release a career—or, more accurately, a calling—that no longer supported my health or well-being. It meant building new routines, uncovering new sources of joy, and granting myself the grace to grow beyond the pain. In seeking peace, I realized that joy wasn’t some distant, unattainable dream. It was something I could nurture and cultivate, even in the wake of loss. Peace became the bridge to a new kind of joy—one that could coexist with my grief and still propel me forward.
I discovered I didn’t need to fully let go of my grief to find joy. On the days when I needed to hold on to it a little longer, that was entirely okay. I surrendered to the idea that joy didn’t need to be perfect or untouched by sorrow. Instead, it could be gentle, imperfect, and deeply meaningful—shaped by both the grief I carried and the healing I embraced.
A Return to Joy
Today, I find joy in the simple, everyday moments. It’s in the warmth of a sunlit walk on a cold winter day with the man I love and adore, in the laughter shared over a meal with my family, and in the familiar comfort of my evening ritual. This joy isn’t fleeting or superficial—it’s rooted in the deep peace I’ve found through my journey of healing.
If you’re navigating your own grief, know that it’s okay to take your time. Allow yourself to feel the pain, to sit with it, and trust that joy will return. Seek peace in the small moments, and have faith that each step forward brings you closer to healing. Joy may seem distant now, but it’s waiting for you. It resides in the quiet, gentle spaces you create, and in time, it will reemerge as a vibrant part of your life. One day, you may feel the sun warming your face, and in that moment, you’ll remember that I too was surprised by joy after trauma. You’ll smile, and welcome the sensation, as if it had never truly left you.
Remember, joy is not the absence of pain but the presence of peace. It’s a gentle gift we cultivate through compassion, intentional living, and self-love. By allowing ourselves the grace to grieve, the faith to heal, and the acceptance of our journey, we open the door to rediscovering the beauty in our lives. Healing after trauma is a tender process, but in embracing it, we create space for joy to return and flourish within us once more.
I wish you peace and trust that joy will soon follow.
