Embracing the journey: finding joy in the midst of suffering

When I was asked if I could write a blog about how to find joy in the midst of suffering, the first thing that came to mind was how timely the invitation felt—it was exactly what I was figuring out at that moment.

I was going through days of great difficulty, where trusting and genuinely feeling joy became particularly challenging. There are times when we hope for things to unfold a certain way, but that moment simply doesn’t come. Part of me mistakenly believed that, as a therapist, navigating this should be easier. After all, I’m supposed to have the tools to manage it more naturally, aren’t I? Yet, everything felt forced and difficult. This realization made me understand that this was exactly what I needed to write about: my own journey.

How could I advise someone to maintain peace and joy when I was struggling with that myself? Many times, I felt like something was wrong with me, like the “formula” for joy wasn’t working. I assumed the problem lay within me; perhaps I was doing something wrong. I consumed information from various sources, only to feel more overwhelmed and frustrated. Sometimes, I kept myself busy, waiting for everything to improve, as if that season of my life were just a brief parenthesis and that once everything got back to normal, I would start feeling joyful again.

I know what it feels like when life doesn’t go as expected. When you have tried so hard, done what you believed was right, and yet find yourself bearing an overwhelming pressure, as if everything depends on you, even the pressure to feel okay for the sake of others. 

That burden finally broke one day after a long conversation, when someone said to me, “You have tried so hard, it’s time to rest.” At first, I thought I would need at most a week or two, and then I would return to my efforts because life doesn’t stop. However, that rest became something deeper than I anticipated. Little by little, I began to notice something I had not wanted to see: my attachments. Attachments to how things should be: my plans, my timing, my expectations. Then came uncomfortable questions: If joy is not in the fulfillment of my dreams, where is it? I felt confused and broken.

Yet, in that very process, something began to shift. I discovered that, while we cannot force joy, we still need to be open to it. Over time, as those attachments slowly transformed, something unexpected happened: I began to feel free. Objectively, nothing had changed, but inwardly, everything had. I needed to acknowledge the pain, my suffering, my struggles, and my waiting. I had to let go of expectations and quiet other voices since my battles were challenging enough. I learned that joy wasn’t found in the fulfillment of my goals or dreams, but in realizing I didn’t need them in order to be whole; that I was loved even amidst everything. It was when I felt most broken, when I thought I had nothing to offer, that I finally let go of control and allowed myself to be seen.

In that moment, the small things became clear. After a long or difficult day, putting my body in motion, coming home and taking a shower felt like a gift. A meal, which I once took for granted, became a sign of love. A plant growing became a quiet teacher, reminding me that growth has its own pace. A heartfelt conversation, when someone said, “I see how hard you're trying,” gave me strength again. That’s when I understood something that changed everything: joy is not the absence of struggles; it is the ability to remain open, even in the midst of suffering. That’s when suffering can truly transform and sanctify us. Life can be both beautiful and hard at the same time, and our task is to learn how to live that reality without hardening our hearts.

At this point in my life, I can say I have never felt more broken and grateful at the same time. There’s a freedom in acknowledging that you can’t control everything, that nothing in this process can be rushed, and honestly, if I look back, I can see that God has been there for me in many different ways all along. I don’t want to miss a single moment now.

That’s when I promised myself to begin living fully in the midst of the process, allowing joy to find me. Perhaps it isn’t about forcing yourself to feel better, but about taking small, honest steps: acknowledging what is heavy, allowing both pain and beauty to coexist, and letting yourself be loved. Little by little, you can become open to joy.

If this journey still feels difficult, please know that my prayers are with you. Your path is unique. Joy, even when it feels distant, is out there, trying to find you.