Learning to Recognize and Find Joy

An excerpt from a story written by Jenny Jones in the book Positively Rare.
(Jenny lives with Familial adenomatous polyposis)

By 2022, I knew I needed counseling again, and this time I re-entered it with a fervent dedication to heal. Because my love for my parents grew so deeply after forgiving them, I lost sight of my own inner strength, which led me to believe I couldn’t survive without them. The older they become, the more pressure I feel to heal my trauma.

This time, I wouldn’t stop counseling when my depression lifted, and I’d incorporate other valuable therapeutic modalities; no longer would I hide from every experience, thought, or feeling that’s haunted me since I was eight.

My first Reiki experience was pivotal. As I lay on a cloth-draped massage table in a dimly lit room with boho decor and surrounded by aromatic scents and calming music, the practitioner’s hands hovered above my body, with occasional gentle touches here and there. She identified a blockage in the solar plexus chakra in the torso, housing one’s inner power that trauma can block. How poignant. In unblocking this chakra, it truly became like a counselling session while I envisioned a swirling sunflower above me, removing black sludge that filled my torso, replacing it with the warm strength of bright sun rays. To this day, one question she asked rings in my ears: “You don’t really experience joy, do you?” “Not at all,” I answered. We discussed how to start recognizing and experiencing joy through daily reflection, enjoyable activities, and gratitude.

Joy . . . that was an interesting concept to me. Later I began rolling it around in my mind. I could honestly say there were times I felt happy, but joyful? Joy wasn’t something I was familiar with; when I really thought about it, I recalled only three instances: my ostomy reversal approval, its success, and periodically post-divorce.

An immense post-divorce joy etched upon my soul is one summer evening basking in the sun with a gentle breeze, looking out across my own yard and the wooded area butting up against it, hiding a creek. Just like at my parents’, when the wind hits right, I too smell a distant dairy farm—a scent reminiscent of home, my childhood, and the love my parents and I share. Thinking of all these things while enjoying the view with a deep sense of satisfaction and contentment, I thought about all I had endured up to that moment. I had everything I wanted in life and loved it all. Admiring every sight and sound life was affording me in that moment, I became full of joy and gratitude.

You can read more of Jenny’s story in the book Positively Rare available here.