People associate joy with people places, or things.  But what happens when those people die, mistreat you or leave?  What happens when those places are destroyed?  What happens when those things are damaged, stolen or lost?  Where does the joy go? 

I recently experienced the ending of a marriage that used to bring me joy.  In the middle of many painful moments, joy, in the form of solitary humor, trickled in.  I found myself laughing while tears of loss flowed from my eyes.  It was like I was being thrown a life preserver to keep me from drowning in an ocean of saline and sorrow. I was still in it, but it didn't overtake me.

This joy wasn't affected by my pain. It was not attached to or dependent upon someone or something else. 

And every time I went into that dark place, joy would show its face.  Even when I just wanted to be mad longer than what would be considered healthy, joy would come skipping and humming a ditty. One night it said, "Robin, you are going to look back and laugh about all these emotional machinations you allowed yourself to be put through."

So, regardless of outside circumstances, what I now call my Ninja Joy remained intact and fully functional. Without my full awareness of this, and it took me eighteen months of living through abject pain, I would be in a state institution waiting to get my meds from Nurse Ratched.

This marriage shook me to the core, but I'm still here.

So today's the day that I laugh.  And it's not a fake it till you make it kind of laugh either.  It's real and it's spectacular.

The kind of joy that I want to hang out with is the one that stays intact. The other joys in my life that make me smile are subject to change. And that's okay.