A few years ago, I was given the name "Joy" by one of my friends and mentors. This is my faery or magical name, and some people know me only by that name. I bring this up because I've given a lot of thought to this name recently. I mean, Joy, really? Does that mean I have to run around spreading love and happiness every minute of the day? Ugh. I mean, who can carry that burden?
I suppose that if you know me as an acquaintance, you may have heard me laughing, and, apparently, I have a unique and contagious laugh. When I'm around people I'm comfortable with, I can be pretty funny and bring some light in dark moments. But is that all I am?
What about the serious person who likes to spend a lot of time alone? How about the shy, tired person that just doesn't have energy to bring anything funny to the table? What about the sad woman grieving so many losses and dealing with complex issues that - are - not - joyful? How about that angry person that sees so much wrong with the world and how people are treated? Is that person really a "Joy"?
Well, I've just finished a few years of deep introspection or "shadow work". I think a lot of us have, even unknowingly, done this after dealing with the pandemic. The answer is, at the end of the day, I can look at all the darkness, all the problems, all the things I've done and wish I hadn't, all the things I wish I'd done and didn't. I don't feel the need to hide what I feel or who I am. I can wake up and know that this is all there, and it will all be there tomorrow. I can wake up and laugh. I really do want to make other people's lives a little easier or happier. Inside of me there is a light that won't go out. I am a "Joy". Dammit!
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