People talk about finding joy. Like they’re on a scavenger hunt.
But finding joy? It’s just finding yourself.
This isn’t therapy chair talk. Or some Oprah moment.
Joy is that beautiful feeling, that realization, that you are someone—without having to be
Joy shows up without RSVP at those early morning workouts, when your hot and sweaty and
tired body meets the crisp parking-lot air.
Joy is finishing that final rep, after months of never being able to.
You look around the class—did anyone see? Doesn’t matter.
Because the really great fucking thing is—you don’t need anyone to see it. Because you know.
And you realize—it was in you the whole time. You just finally believed it today.
Joy is seeing your body in a different light—what it’s capable of doing, instead of what it can fit
And with that final rep and drop of sweat—
Your crazy is worked out. Your worries, your fears.
Your need for the outside.
Will. They. Text. Me. Back.
Will I get promoted?
Will I ever find that relationship?
Will I ever make it back to that size?
All of that fades when joy arrives.
Because joy is the ultimate eliminator of bullshit.
That beautiful, sweet pleasure of triumph.
When you’re really fucking proud of yourself.
Joy reminds you you’re worthy.
To stay in the present.
To give zero fucks about the outside.
To leave your phone at home.
Joy doesn’t remember the Monday you slept in, but the Tuesday you fucking showed up.
But you have to look for it, you have to fight for it.
And all that means, is that you’re fighting for yourself—to remember you’re worth everything.
Your mind and body are brilliant—and they’re waiting for you to join.
We welcome you to the party of joy.
No bullshit invited.