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I Didn’t Steal This Joy, I Earned It
And here’s what I want you to know about how that works
If there’s one thing I really miss about childhood, it’s how experiencing pure, unadulterated joy felt so effortless. I knew what it was without needing to name it. It also felt natural — something I could count on defaulting to instead of having to fight for it.
I think I felt this most when my dad would take my brother and me to the beach for the afternoon. The ocean seemed like it went on forever, and I played for what felt like hours. I’d dig my toes into the wet sand, letting the cold water chase my feet and retreat again. I’d spend hours building woefully deficient sandcastles or searching tidepools for sea anemones and tiny crabs.
I wasn’t ever worried about what came next. I wasn’t afraid of anyone watching me. I wasn’t trying to be good. I wasn’t afraid of being bad. I just was, and it was amazing.
I’ve been chasing that feeling ever since, and I’d be lying if I said that hasn’t shaped the arc of my life. That quiet, open sense of being safe inside my own body. Of being allowed to take up space, feel the sun on my skin, and just exist without shame, fear, or apology.
And lately, after many years and more healing than I ever thought I needed, I’ve recaptured the ability to feel…
