The Quiet Return of Joy

I used to think joy was something big. A vacation, a promotion, or a life-changing moment.

After many years of nursing, I discovered that joy returns in whispers.

It returns when you sit in the sunshine with nowhere to be.

For a long time I thought I was simply tired. Looking back, I wasn’t just exhausted. I had become disconnected from joy.

Caregiving had become so much of my identity that I forgot to nurture the person behind the nurse. The person who loves to create, dream, and wonder. The person who loves to play.

Joy didn’t come back all at once. It returned through small moments. A crochet project. A walk through a garden. A notebook filled with thoughts. A quiet cup of coffee before the world awakened.

The moments seemed insignificant at times. Yet, they were slowly bringing me back to myself.

Joy isn’t something we find. It is something we remember. A part of ourselves patiently waiting beneath the responsibilities, the stress, and the expectations.

Sometimes the most important care we provide is not to the patient. Sometimes it’s to the person behind the scrubs. That care begins with something surprisingly simple: Giving ourselves permission to experience joy again.

What brings you joy? For me, writing has helped return the joy I had lost. Knowing a few words expressed could change the lives of so many is gratifying and powerful. I look forward to my own next story.