Joy Slippage
When you have it...And then you don't 😮💨
This ever happen to you?
You wake up and you are feeling yourself. By that, I mean, you wake up a minute (not 12) before your alarm. Your mind is clear, you actually slept, and when your feet hit the floor you decide the inevitable aches and pains are actually tolerable today. Winning!
You proceed downstairs to do your workout without a dog or a child following you. The house is (and stays) quiet through the duration of your workout, and you are gettin’ it. Like, you and Tunde are rocking Peloton. You are AMRAP’ing and EMOM’ing like a B-O-S-S and your sweat angel is epic because for once, your body stepped up to the challenge.
You head upstairs, still rapping the last 90’s Tupac song on the playlist, unperturbed by the fact the song was released 30 years ago. You’re already anticipating that first hit of caffeine and the gloriousness of a shower with zero interruptions. You are, dare I say it, joyful…or at least momentarily heady by the prospect of joy.
And then it begins.
The dog voraciously boops your eyeball with her nose while you’re taking off your shoes…Slip
You realize the dishwasher wasn’t washed last night so there’s no silverware for breakfast…Slip
You can’t find your daughter’s water bottle which means she left it at school…again…Slip
You have two kinds of coffee but only enough grounds in each for a single cup, but you need to make two…Slip
Your husband cannot understand the concept of a coat CLOSET, so there’s a coat on the back of your barstool and your dining room table…Slip
You hear your kid’s dinosaur feet hit the floor 32 minutes ahead of schedule…
It’s done. The joy is gone. Eroded in 20 minutes of progressive slippage.
I hate the word slippage. It falls in the same category as moist and phlegm for me. It feels yucky to say. And it feels even worse to experience, like watching water slide through your fingers no matter how hard your cupped hands try to hold on. So as much as I hate the word, it’s the best descriptor I can come up with for this thing that happens to me all. the f-ing. time. I have the joy! I did it! I found it! I cultivated it! I stumbled on it! Whatever…for one freaking second, I actually feel it. And then it’s gone.
What frustrates me the most is that I know I can get there. I mean, if I never experienced joy, then so be it. But, I know I can! How is it so easily lost? I want that joy to be impervious. Isn’t it supposed to protect me from life’s bullshit? Apparently not.
I’ve been experimenting lately with how to hold on. Not known for being a quitter, I’m determined to defy physics and stop the slippage. I’ve learned dogged determination doesn’t do it. In fact, the harder I hold on, the faster that joy water slips right through my fingers. Breathing. Deep breathing. I’ve tried that. It keeps the frustration from blooming in to rage, but it doesn’t protect the joy. And if I haven’t eaten yet, I just end up getting light headed.
So far, the only thing I’ve found that sorta works is letting it go. It’s the most advanced reverse psychology out there people - let it go, and, wait for it…trust it will come back. REVOLUTIONARY! It’s not. I know. But it’s unbelievably hard for me. My greatest fear is abandonment. I don’t let go of anything or anyone that I want. And when and if I do, I assume they or it is gone for good. But joy is a slippery bitch. Not only does she drip away from me against my will, she also seeps her way back in. Unexpectedly.
I am old enough to be able to learn my lesson. I no longer try to hold on. When I feel the slippage starting, I open up my hands and let it flow.
It is highly unusual for me to take my music choices from a nun, but I came across this song originally written by Sister Miriam Therese Winter, and the lyrics have become like a meditation.
I saw raindrops on the window,
Joy is like the rain.
Laughter runs across my pain,
Slips away and comes again,
Joy is like the rain.
Allow the slippage. Trust the seepage. Joy is like the rain. And it will come again.