My name literally means joy: one who brings – great joy and love- to the home. However, for a long time, I haven’t felt joyful.

I recall wanting to desperately shrug off my reserved and serious self. She worked well in my career and was the best for getting shit done. But she wasn’t me… I’d always been funny, playful and downright mischievous. What happened? Where was she? And how could I get her back?

There were so many times when I watched my energetic son bounce around and I longed to bounce, roll and shriek with him. But I couldn’t reach it: the switch to turn her back on, to feeeel and be joyous.

After I left my job and time was moving closer to leaving the states, I would feel jolts of something. Looking back, I know that joy was peeking through, trying to break through the steeliness that had become…me.

She must’ve been buried deeply under layers of responsibility and armor. I try not to be impatient because she has to know it’s safe to raise her head. It took years to bury her, so it may take some time. But she’s worth it. So I’ll keep reminding myself that joy is not transient; it can stay if you let it.