FINDING JOY AS A FORM OF RESISTANCE
Finding Joy as a Form of Resistance
This week I had a conversation that shifted something — reminded me of something — fundamental to my concept of wellbeing. A friend showed me pictures of her twenty-something daughter protesting in LA. She was fierce and determined, holding a sign, surrounded by other people who cared enough to show up.
I felt that familiar wave of guilt wash over me. Here I was, a mother of young daughters, focusing on my practice and daily routines while this crisis unfolds. Shouldn't I be doing more? Shouldn't I be out there protesting for the causes and people I care about, too?
My friend saw the look on my face and pulled out her phone. "I actually texted something similar to my daughter," she said, scrolling to find the message. "Look what she wrote back."
The response was just five words: "Joy is a form of resistance."
I've been sitting with those words ever since.
In a world that feels increasingly heavy—where personal struggles intersect with global crises, where the news cycle feeds on anxiety, where even taking time for yourself can feel like a betrayal of everything that needs fixing—the idea of actively seeking joy feels almost subversive.
But here's what I've learned both professionally and personally: choosing joy isn't frivolous. It's revolutionary.
When the World Tells You Not to Feel Good
We live in a culture that often equates suffering with virtue and busyness with worth. Social media feeds us a constant stream of crisis and comparison. News cycles thrive on anxiety and outrage. Even well-meaning friends and family can inadvertently reinforce the message that feeling good means you're not paying attention or not taking things seriously enough.
For those dealing with depression, anxiety, or trauma, this cultural messaging becomes even more insidious. Your brain is already working against you, telling you that you don't deserve happiness or that good feelings are temporary illusions. When the world around you seems to confirm these thoughts, the spiral deepens.
In my practice, I’ve seen how this can sometimes play out: a person fears that if they let their guard down and feel joy, something terrible will happen—or worse, that they'll somehow be betraying others who are still suffering.
The Radical Act of Choosing Differently
But what if joy itself is a form of resistance? To be clear - I’m not talking about the toxic positivity kind that dismisses real problems or tells people to "just think positive." I'm talking about the deliberate, conscious choice to find moments of lightness, beauty, and connection even when—especially when—everything else feels heavy.
This kind of joy doesn't ignore suffering; it coexists with it. It acknowledges that life contains multitudes, and that our capacity to hold both grief and gratitude, concern and contentment, is part of what makes us fully human.
Think about it: systems of oppression, whether they're societal, familial, or the internal ones created by mental illness, thrive on keeping people depleted, hopeless, and disconnected from their own sense of agency. When you deliberately seek out what brings you alive—whether that's the first sip of morning coffee, a text from a friend, or the way light falls through your window—you're asserting that your wellbeing matters.
Small Acts, Big Impact
This doesn't mean forcing yourself to feel happy or pretending everything is fine when it's not. True joy as resistance is more subtle and sustainable than that. It might look like:
Savoring a meal instead of eating while scrolling through bad news. Calling a friend who makes you laugh instead of doom-scrolling social media. Taking a walk and actually noticing what you see instead of using the time to ruminate about your problems.
It's choosing to engage with beauty, humor, and connection not because you've "earned" it by suffering enough, but because these experiences are part of what makes life worth living—and they're available to you right now, not just after you've fixed everything else.
The Neuroscience of Joy
From a clinical perspective, there's solid science behind why this matters. Positive emotions don't just feel good; they literally change your brain. They broaden your perspective, enhance creativity, build resilience, and improve your ability to connect with others. When you're dealing with depression or anxiety, these neurological shifts aren't just pleasant—they're therapeutic.
Joy also creates what psychologists call "upward spirals." Unlike the downward spirals of depression, where negative thoughts lead to negative behaviors which reinforce negative thoughts, positive emotions can create cycles of increased wellbeing. Feeling good helps you engage in activities that make you feel better, which increases your capacity for more positive experiences.
This isn't about pretending your problems don't exist or bypassing difficult emotions. It's about recognizing that your brain needs experiences of lightness and connection to function optimally, especially when you're dealing with mental health challenges.
Permission to Feel Good
Maybe what we need most is permission—permission to feel good without justification, to seek joy without apology, to prioritize our wellbeing without guilt. Permission to understand that taking care of your mental health isn't selfish; it's necessary. And that includes actively cultivating positive experiences, not just managing negative ones.
If you're someone who struggles with this, start small. Notice one thing today that brings you even a moment of pleasure. It doesn't have to be profound or Instagram-worthy. Maybe it's the way your pet greets you, a song that comes on the radio, or the satisfaction of crossing something off your to-do list.
The act of noticing, of allowing yourself to fully experience that moment without immediately moving to what's wrong or what needs to be fixed, is a form of resistance against all the forces—internal and external—that want to keep you small, afraid, and disconnected from your own life.
Joy as Practice
Like any form of resistance, this takes practice. Your brain might initially rebel against seeking joy, especially if you've been conditioned to believe that suffering is more noble or that happiness is somehow superficial. But the more you practice noticing and savoring positive experiences, the more natural it becomes.
This is particularly important for those of us doing difficult work—whether that's healing from trauma, supporting others through their pain, or simply navigating a challenging period of life. Joy isn't a luxury we can't afford; it's the fuel that allows us to keep going.
In my work with patients undergoing ketamine therapy, I often see profound shifts not just in their ability to feel better, but in their willingness to let themselves feel better. The treatment doesn't just lift depression; it often restores people's capacity for joy and their sense that they deserve to experience it.
Your Joy Matters
Your individual moments of joy matter—not just to you, but to everyone around you. When you choose connection over isolation, gratitude over resentment, presence over anxiety, you're modeling something different for others. You're showing that it's possible to acknowledge what's difficult while still engaging with what's beautiful.
This doesn't solve systemic problems or cure mental illness, but it does something equally important: it reminds us why we're fighting for better in the first place. It connects us back to what we're trying to protect and preserve—our capacity for wonder, connection, and aliveness.
In a world that profits from your anxiety and benefits from your despair, choosing joy isn't just self-care. It's an act of defiance. It's saying that despite everything that's wrong, despite all the healing still needed, despite the uncertainty about what comes next, you refuse to let the darkness have the final word.
Your joy is your resistance. Use it wisely.
If you're struggling to access feelings of joy or find yourself feeling guilty about positive experiences, these patterns often have roots in depression, anxiety, or trauma. Professional support can help you understand and work through these barriers, allowing you to reclaim your natural capacity for wellbeing and connection. Reach out to start a conversation.
