Where Is Joy Born? You Might Be Surprised
Sometimes it seems that everyone we know is struggling. Right now, many people in my life are undergoing suffering, and I’m especially attuned to it because in the past year I’ve dealt with periods of frightful anxiety and then dips of depression. So now, when I am listening to other people’s pain, I am drawing on those powerful memories of my own.
And here’s what I know. Well, maybe it’s nearer the truth to say this is what I am trying to know. Our capacity to feel suffering is exactly the same as our capacity to feel joy. If we run from pain, if we try to eliminate it before we really know what it is and what it’s trying to tell us, we can’t really feel anything, especially joy.
Depth psychologist Michael Petrow says, “suffering carves a space out in your heart. In that wide open space, you can feel not only your pain but the pain of others and the pain of the world.” And what’s beautiful is—that carved-out space is also where your joy comes from. We think we have two spaces in our hearts, one for suffering and one for joy, and we imagine that the trick is to close off the yucky space and live as much as possible in the happy space. But there’s really only one cavern in our hearts, and the task before us is to know that empty space, spend time there, until we aren’t afraid of it anymore. Or maybe just a little less afraid. It’s when we have made peace with suffering—though it makes no sense—that we’re more likely to feel joy, to feel that everything is ok.
When I was going through the worst of my anxiety nightmares and depressive aftershocks, a wise person gave me a small notebook and invited me to journal about it. Where am I feeling this in my body? Where have I felt this before? What old tapes start playing in my head? What am I afraid is going to happen? It didn’t cure me in a day or a week or a month, but gradually I got better at sitting in that empty cavern and knowing that Jesus, who experienced every triumph and trauma of human life, was sitting with me, assuring me that he was ok, and I could be too. My joy trickled back.
I keep being amazed that the heart space Michael Petrow speaks of is not carved out by happiness, delight, bliss or pleasure. It’s carved out by suffering. Don’t you wish it were otherwise! But it is in that very room, and only there, that we know deep and abiding joy.
David, a deeply moving piece. And all the more so for the way you let us peek into your own cavern.
I love this: “And here’s what I know. Well, maybe it’s nearer the truth to say this is what I am trying to know.”
I could go on and on. But I’ll just say, you are in fact speaking the truth. But it makes it all the more powerful when you demur. God, how we need that. We all need a little humility.
I’ve been there too. In the dark cavern. And writing certainly helps. Naming has power. And then, almost as powerful, sharing the struggle with others.
So thanks for sharing this. Bless you!
Naming the pain, the struggle—that’s big, yes. And sharing it with others is too. One of the keys to dealing with my anxiety was to tell as many people as I could what I was dealing with. That didn’t come easy to me, but it was transformative.
It’s no wonder that Jesus had to get away to solitary places so often, as you consider the suffering he was constantly exposed to by the masses of hurting people looking for healing or help. I can barely handle my own stuff sometimes. It doesn’t squash joy to focus on the suffering like I used to think – it makes space for it. Thanks for sharing the writing prompts – helpful to have on hand.
Yes—someone else reached out to me about the journaling piece of this, and I really encouraged her to write down what she was experiencing. It’s very powerful to go in and break down a horrid feeling that is just eating you alive . . . and then gradually the fear and anxiety dissipate, and you can see new possibilities.
David, I appreciate your honesty and vulnerability in expressing your suffering with anxiety and depression. For more than two decades, I too have struggled with anxiety and depression., as have beloved family members. What you have written is truth, insightfully expressed.
Journaling, with acknowledgment and acceptance, through prayer, have also helped me. There have been times that I have argued with God about the purpose of the suffering in this world, in my family, and within my repeated depression, and anxiety. . Yet many times, I have thanked God for the joy, growth, trust and surrender that has come from those paradoxical struggles. But I don’t want to experience them again. Another paradox
I agree that joy and sadness are on a spectrum that swings like a pendulum. The further it swings in each direction the more that is experienced. If the pendulum stops swinging from high to low then there is No movement within or toward others; little empathy or understanding. So I thank God that I am a pendulum, in full swing…… even when I truly don’t want to be.
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Your realization, that joy and sadness are part of a whole pattern of life, is so good.
I’ve noticed that the most deeply joyful people I know are those who have undergone great suffering—and their joy has a deep resonance, a profound richness that is only there because of what they’ve been through.
Some of the most beautiful music is also some of the most painful and melancholy. Joy is living life in three dimensional full color, but it contains the shading of all emotions. With all the heartache and all the joy that comes with a life deeply lived, would I ever choose to live in relatively pain-numbed black-and-white in-between? I hope not.
Thanks, David!
Black and white in between. That’s a good description of what to avoid.