When Fighting for Joy Becomes Hard

It’s been a hard year.

(Yes, Alexandra, we know, shut up about it already).

I promise this is the last thing. This essay I initially wrote while pregnant last winter, trapped in the darkest headspace I’d been in in a long while, and that I’ve reworked now that I’m on the other side, with some new perspective.

Last February was a particularly low point. I was facing a lot of unsolicited negativity I couldn’t shake off despite my best efforts. We were knee-deep in house renovations that were becoming increasingly more stressful (shocking for a 300-year-old home, I know). My due date, while still a few months away, loomed ever-closer and I was trying my hardest to form a positive mindset despite the memories of my first birth experience that could make me burst into tears if I thought about it too much. Besides all this, there’s something about pregnancy that simply makes me feel dead inside. Twice now, I have felt heavy, mentally, and often angry.1 Sure there have been difficult external circumstances both times that contributed to this, but even when life seemed objectively good, I couldn’t pull myself up out of the pit I was sitting in.

So last February, I sat down and wrote this essay about how I could choose joy despite feeling the way I felt. I didn’t want to be a victim to my own headspace or the difficult circumstances we were in as a family. Emotions are often uncontrollable, sure, but joy is different. There’s a reason I named my whole Substack after it. I think joy is like the other Christian virtues of faith, hope, and charity. Those three are known as theological virtues, after all, for their particular relation to God. Joy, while not a virtue, is similar. It is not happiness, a fleeting emotion. I believe it is a choice, somewhat similar to hope and faith.

That said, it’s hard to dig yourself out of a dark place. When your thoughts can’t latch onto anything but negative perceptions, when all your assumptions are skewed to the most malevolent of intentions, when it is impossible to scrape up the slightest bit of cheer and you’re left wondering when you will feel contentment again…

How do you find joy in this state?

The honest answer is I’m still figuring it out. I know rewatching my favorite comfort show helps. I know consciously finding a balance between doing the things I need to do and making time to slow down and do the things I love helps. I know talking openly and honestly to my husband and mom and trusted friends helps. And then, of course, seeking out professional medical help if needed.

Most importantly, I try my hardest to stick close to God in prayer. I remind myself of my identity in Him. I read Scripture. I pray the Surrender Novena and let the repetitive phrase echo with me throughout my day. Something I have noticed is that when I am in the darkness—whether it be during pregnancy or just a bad day—talking to God about it is sometimes the last thing I want to do, and I’m not entirely sure why. Perhaps part of me feels guilty for feeling the way I do. Perhaps part of me is convinced He’s tired of listening to me complain. (Both of these are lies, by the way).

Broadening my perspective and focusing on how God has helped me and remained faithful has certainly helped. The way I lost work and regained it, both during times when I mentally couldn’t handle working anymore and then needed a job again. The way He saved my husband from a life-threatening accident. And as I’m revising this essay, I’m looking at my five-month-old baby boy in front of me: I had been fearful my pregnancy and birth with him were colliding with the most chaotic moment in our lives, during job uncertainty and house renovations and moving, yet this boy has ended up being the greatest joy in this period. My empowering experience with a natural, unmedicated birth and relatively smooth postpartum period radically healed the horrible experience I’d had with my first, that had left me doubting my worth as a mother. I love both of my boys more than life itself, but I’m grateful for my second for healing my self-perception and showing me what it is like to actually enjoy the baby stage. He has held our family together during this tumultuous shift. Finally, even recently, with the closure of my publisher, I have come to see how setting off on my own to publish The Stelnove Saga and future books could actually be a great thing for me. I needed that publisher to find my writing community and my ideal readers and to gain confidence, and now that I have all three, I feel much more equipped to tackle independent publishing.

Finally, approaching journaling from a new perspective has helped me cling to joy as well. I’ve always loved journaling, but it seemed I could never write without quickly turning pessimistic and then ruminating on my problems. I discovered Tessa Romero’s “Alignment Journaling” method, and it has helped me critically reframe my daily perspective. Each morning now I rise earlier than everyone else, exercise, and then take some time to read my breviary and journal. I write about the kind of person I want to be that day, the kind of mindset I want to have. If anything is troubling or worrying me, I write how I will tackle it and reframe my perspective as needed.

When obstacles hit, you don’t need to stay stuck in a difficult place. Every problem has a solution, every circumstance has more than one way to look at it. There’s a fine balance between surrendering to God and taking control of your own mindset and problems. This is a balance I am learning to walk each day.

Are these magic cures? No. Is this essay meant to be one long mental health advice column? No. This is the reworked fruit of my reflections last winter on how I could manage to choose joy when I felt anything but joyful. I do hope my findings help someone, though.

Sometimes, all of the above can only help so much. And so, maybe this isn’t the final answer you want to hear, but it’s the truth: we weren’t meant to be perfectly happy and free from suffering in this world.

Our joy must ultimately come from hope in the next.