Relationships Self

Why Joy Can Hurt: Finding Grace in the Messiest Moments of Happiness”

I remember standing in front of the mirror on my wedding day. My makeup was perfect, my dress was everything I had ever dreamed of, and around me were people who loved me more than I probably deserved. And yet, I felt this ache in my chest that I couldn’t explain. It wasn’t nerves or regret. It was just… sadness. Right there, on what was supposed to be the best day of my life.

If you’ve ever felt a heavy feeling on a day that was supposed to be full of light, I want to tell you: you’re not broken. You’re not ungrateful. You’re not being dramatic. You’re being human.

The Myth of Pure Joy

We grow up being taught that life’s best moments should be untainted. Birthdays, weddings, graduations, promotions—they’re wrapped in shiny paper with ribbons of expectation. And if we feel anything less than absolute joy on these days, we start to question ourselves.

  • “Why am I crying when I should be smiling?”
  • “Why does this feel lonely when I’m surrounded by love?”
  • “Why can’t I just be happy?”

It’s easy to feel like you’re failing at happiness. But I want to flip the narrative. Maybe these mixed emotions aren’t signs of failure. Maybe they’re the clearest signs that you’re alive and paying attention.

Emotions Aren’t Monogamous

One of the biggest lies we’re told is that we’re supposed to feel one thing at a time. But real life doesn’t work like that. Real life is layered. Messy. Complex.

I think of emotions like colors on a canvas. Happiness can sit right next to grief. Relief can blend with guilt. Excitement can edge up against fear. We’re capable of feeling joy and sadness in the same breath, in the same room, on the same unforgettable day.

Let’s say you’re moving into your dream house. You’ve worked so hard, you’ve waited so long—and yet, part of you aches as you pack up your old apartment. That little studio where you healed from heartbreak, where you cried on the bathroom floor, where you danced with friends and learned to love your own company. You’re excited for what’s next, but there’s a version of you you’re leaving behind. And it’s okay to mourn her, even as you celebrate what she’s made possible.

The Silent Weight of Expectations

Sometimes, we feel bad on a “happy” day not because of what’s happening—but because of what we believe should be happening.

Expectations are heavy. They come from family, friends, society, and sometimes ourselves. And on big days, those expectations scream louder than usual.

You might feel pressure to make every second count. To smile through every moment. To be fully present, completely grateful, endlessly joyful. But that’s not how real life—or real humans—work.

When I graduated college, I remember walking across the stage feeling nothing. Numb. Everyone around me was cheering, crying, celebrating. I just wanted to crawl into bed and sleep for a week. I thought something was wrong with me. But looking back, I know now that I was completely overwhelmed. And that numbness? It was my body’s way of protecting me. Sometimes our hearts go quiet because they need a moment to catch up.

Grief Shows Up in Strange Places

One of the most surprising emotions that can show up on a joyful day is grief.

Think about it: every new beginning is also an ending. Every gain requires some form of loss. Every “I do” means leaving behind who you were when you were single. Every birth is a goodbye to the quiet life you had before kids. Every win costs you something—even if it’s just time, innocence, or the person you used to be.

And then there’s the grief for people who aren’t there. The ones we wished could see us shine. The friends who drifted. The parents who passed. The versions of us that didn’t make it.

It’s okay to carry that grief into your joy. There’s room for both. There must be room for both.

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