Joy Is Not a Distraction. It’s How We Find Our Way Back.

By Donna Marie Marino, LMFT

Over the past few weeks, I’ve found myself watching two completely different versions of the world.

One lives in the headlines.

It’s the version filled with conflict, uncertainty, heartbreak, and endless reasons to believe we’re becoming more divided from one another.

The other version has been unfolding everywhere else.

I’ve watched people from opposite sides of the world dancing together during the FIFA Club World Cup. I’ve watched Pride celebrations filled with music, laughter, and belonging. I’ve watched families gathering at summer festivals, neighbors celebrating on front porches, children running through sprinklers, and complete strangers singing the same songs in languages they don’t even speak.

And I found myself thinking…

Maybe this is who we really are.

Maybe beneath all the noise, most people are simply looking for the same things.

To belong.

To feel connected.

To laugh.

To celebrate.

To experience a little more joy.

That thought has stayed with me because it’s something I see in my therapy office, too.

We Weren’t Meant to Live in Survival Mode

Years ago, during my coaching days, I came across a phrase that I’ve carried with me ever since:

Carefree timelessness.

It’s those moments when you’re doing something you enjoy so completely that you lose track of time.

Maybe you’re tending your garden.

Maybe you’re painting.

Maybe you’re walking your favorite trail.

Maybe you’re dancing in your kitchen while dinner cooks.

Maybe you’re sitting on the porch with your morning coffee, reading a book you’ve been meaning to finish.

Maybe you’re cheering for your favorite team surrounded by thousands of strangers who, for ninety minutes, somehow feel like family.

The activity itself isn’t really the point.

What matters is that, for a little while, you stop carrying the weight of the world.

Your shoulders relax.

Your breathing slows.

Your mind quiets.

Your nervous system remembers what safety feels like.

I think we underestimate how important those moments really are.

Joy Isn’t Something We Earn

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that adulthood means being serious.

We tell ourselves we’ll rest after the project is finished.

We’ll take the trip after retirement.

We’ll start painting again when life settles down.

We’ll make time for friends once things get less busy.

We’ll laugh more after we solve all the problems.

But life has a funny way of replacing one challenge with another.

If we’re always waiting for life to calm down before allowing ourselves to experience joy, we may wait a very long time.

Joy isn’t the reward for surviving life well.

It’s one of the things that helps us survive it in the first place.

What Healing Often Looks Like

One of the things I love most about working alongside the clinicians at Armonía is that we often witness the same truth from different perspectives.

Colleen, who specializes in helping people recover from narcissistic abuse, often talks about one of her favorite moments in the healing process.

It’s not necessarily when someone has a major breakthrough.

It’s when they get their sparkle back.

Their eyes brighten.

They start talking about planting flowers, taking a pottery class, going dancing, picking up a paintbrush again, or calling an old friend just because they miss them.

After spending so much energy surviving, they begin remembering who they are.

Christina sees something similar in her work with children.

Children naturally process their emotions through play. They build, imagine, draw, create stories, make music, and move their bodies. It’s how they learn about themselves and the world around them.

Adults often think of play as something children eventually outgrow.

I think we’ve got that backwards.

Maybe adults need to play just as much as children do.

We’ve just forgotten how.

The Question I Ask Couples

When I’m working with couples, one of my favorite questions is incredibly simple.

“What do you two do for fun together?”

Not who picks up the groceries.

Not who manages the calendar.

Not who’s driving the kids to practice.

What brings the two of you joy?

Sometimes the room gets very quiet.

Not because they don’t love one another.

But because somewhere between careers, children, responsibilities, aging parents, mortgages, and life’s endless to-do lists, they’ve forgotten what it feels like to simply enjoy each other’s company.

Healthy relationships aren’t built only through difficult conversations.

They’re built through shared laughter.

Shared adventures.

Inside jokes.

Long walks.

Music in the kitchen.

Board games.

Road trips.

Watching a soccer match together even if you don’t know all the rules.

Those moments aren’t distractions from the relationship.

They are the relationship.

Our Children Are Watching

As parents, it’s easy to believe our primary job is teaching.

Teaching responsibility.

Teaching kindness.

Teaching respect.

Teaching resilience.

Those things matter.

But our children are learning something else simply by watching us.

Do they ever see us laugh until our stomach hurts?

Do they ever see us dance in the kitchen?

Do they ever hear us singing while we fold laundry?

Do they ever see us become completely absorbed in something simply because we love it?

When they do, we’re giving them permission to build a life that isn’t only productive—but joyful.

Finding Our Way Back

I don’t think joy asks us to ignore what’s happening in the world.

There are real challenges that deserve our attention.

Real suffering that deserves our compassion.

Real problems that require courageous people willing to help solve them.

And…

There is still room for music.

For celebration.

For creativity.

For friendship.

For dancing.

For play.

For watching people from different countries embrace each other after a game and remembering that, beneath all the headlines, human beings still have an incredible capacity to connect.

Perhaps that’s why those World Cup celebrations have stayed with me.

They reminded me that the loudest voices are rarely the whole story.

Most people simply want to feel seen.

Most people want to belong.

Most people want to share a meal, cheer for someone they love, laugh with their neighbors, and go home feeling a little lighter than when they arrived.

Maybe that’s what joy really is.

Not an escape from reality.

A return to what matters most.

And maybe that’s why joy is never a distraction from healing.

Sometimes, it’s exactly how we find our way back.