Joy Is An Ally

As humans, we're wired with a negative bias—it once kept us safe from saber-toothed tigers and poisonous berries. Our ancestors who assumed the rustling in the bushes was danger lived long enough to pass on their genes. But here's the thing: that same wiring that protected our great-great-great-grandparents can sabotage us today. When we expect the worst, our minds go hunting for proof. Suddenly, even new opportunities look like threats in disguise. A doctor's appointment becomes a catastrophe before you even walk through the door. An invitation feels like a trap because what if you're too tired that day? What if your body doesn't cooperate?

Living with an autoimmune diagnosis amplifies this tendency. When your body has already betrayed you once—maybe more than once—it's hard not to brace for the next shoe to drop. We scan our bodies for symptoms the way a detective searches for clues. Is this fatigue normal tired or MS tired? Was that a new twinge or did I just sleep wrong? The vigilance is exhausting.

That's why joy must be intentional.

We have to choose it. We have to invite it in. We have to stir it into our days like honey in tea—deliberately, with our own hands. It doesn't arrive on its own, especially on the hard days. But oh, does it make everything sweeter when we let it.

Joy vs. Happiness: Know the Difference

This isn't about chasing happiness. Let me be clear about that. Happiness depends on things going right—good test results, a day without pain, plans that don't get canceled because your body decided today wasn't the day. Happiness is wonderful, but it's also conditional. It's weather-dependent.

Joy is deeper.

Joy is knowing you will get through this, whatever "this" is. It's trusting that this moment—like passing clouds—is temporary. The flare will ease. The fatigue will lift. The fear will quiet down. Joy doesn't require perfect circumstances. It just requires you to remember that you've survived every difficult day so far, and you're still here, still fighting, still worthy of good things.

Joy is the quiet knowing that you contain multitudes—that you are more than your diagnosis, more than your symptoms, more than your limitations. You are also laughter and memories and dreams and resilience and that weird thing you do when your favorite song comes on.

The Honey in the Tea

Here's what I've learned since my diagnosis in 2013: waiting for joy to show up on its own is like waiting for someone else to make your morning coffee. It might happen occasionally, but most days? You've got to brew it yourself.

Some days, joy looks like canceling plans without guilt because rest is radical self-care. Other days, it's forcing yourself to that event because connection feeds your soul in ways medicine can't. Joy is giving yourself permission to do both—to honor what you need in each moment without judgment.

Joy is laughing at the absurdity of it all. It's making jokes about brain fog when you forget what you walked into the room for (again). It's finding humor in the fact that you just told the same story twice in one conversation. If we can't laugh at ourselves, this disease wins more territory than it deserves.

Joy is also giving yourself grace. It's recognizing that some days you won't feel joyful, and that's okay too. You don't have to perform positivity. You're allowed to have hard days, to grieve what you've lost, to be angry that this is your reality. Joy doesn't erase those feelings—it makes room for them while also making room for something else.

Your Daily Practice

So how do we practice joy when our bodies are working against us? We start small. Ridiculously small.

Wellness Tip: Each day, name three things in your immediate space that you're grateful for—the chair you're in, the warmth of the room, the pen in your hand. The softness of your favorite blanket. The sunlight coming through the window. The fact that your coffee is still warm. Small joys still count. In fact, they might count the most.

This isn't about toxic positivity or pretending everything is fine. This is about training your brain to notice what's good alongside what's hard. Both can be true. You can be struggling and grateful for your best friend's text message. You can be in pain and moved by the way the light hits the trees. Life with chronic illness is full of "ands," not "buts."

Start keeping a running list—mental or written—of tiny delights. The barista who remembered your order. The episode of that show that made you laugh out loud. The fact that you got through another Monday. These aren't distractions from your reality; they're threads of sweetness woven through it.

The Revolution of Choosing Joy

In a world that tells us our value is in our productivity, our health, our ability to keep up—choosing joy as someone with chronic illness is revolutionary. It's saying, "I matter beyond what I can do. My life has value beyond my utility. I deserve good things even on days when I can't get out of bed."

Joy is the antidote to the narrative that life with autoimmune disease is just suffering punctuated by doctor's appointments. We get to write a different story. One with laughter and community and purpose and yes, even joy. Not despite our diagnosis, but woven through it, around it, sometimes even because of it.

Because here's the truth they don't tell you in the neurologist's office: you can still have a beautiful life. Different than the one you planned, absolutely. Harder in ways you never imagined, for sure. But also fuller in ways you couldn't have predicted. The people you'll meet who truly get it. The depth of gratitude you'll feel for small things healthy people take for granted. The strength you'll discover you had all along.

An Invitation

This is your invitation to practice joy today. Not to pretend everything is fine. Not to slap a smile over legitimate pain. But to notice—really notice—one thing that doesn't hurt. One thing that brings even the smallest spark of light. One moment that reminds you why you keep going.

Stir that honey in, friend. Let it make today a little sweeter.

At MS-ing Around, we believe that wellness isn't just about managing symptoms—it's about cultivating joy, building community, and redefining what a good life can look like with chronic illness. Join us in choosing joy, one small moment at a time.

What small joy are you noticing today? Share with us in the comments below or join our community to connect with others on this journey.

💛 MS-ing Around is a Chicago-based 501(c)(3) empowering women and adolescent girls living with autoimmune diagnoses. Learn more at msingaround.org