When Gratitude is Too Hard, Try Joy Instead
When gratitude is being polite, joy kicks the door in. Gratitude says, “At least I have a roof over my head.” Joy screams, “We’re eating popsicles on the porch and nobody’s crying—hell yeah!” Gratitude may be a list you make to keep from spiraling. But joy is what stops the spiral in its tracks.
That’s why this week’s prompt in the Burnout Recovery Workbook for Moms isn’t about being thankful. It’s about recognizing joy, especially the kind that sneaks up on you. Even when you’re burnt out, touched out, and sick of everybody asking what’s for dinner.
📝 Download the free workbook here if you haven’t already. You’ll get one question each week that helps you claw your way back to yourself.
In this article:
How has my child brought unexpected joy into my life?
The Weird, Beautiful Ways Kids Remind Us Joy Still Exists
Need Help Finding Your Joy?
Why Journaling Isn’t Optional Anymore
How has my child brought unexpected joy into my life?
When my son took his first steps, I screamed and cried. When he figured out how to sign “more” with those tiny hands, I clapped like he’d won an Olympic medal.
Every new word, every animal noise he makes, every time he correctly says a color—I feel it deep in my chest. That full-body spark. That’s joy.
Where’s the unexpected part? I didn’t know if I’d be that mom. My own childhood was a little competitive in weird, unspoken ways—me and my mom, her and her dad. There was this subtle vibe of:
Who’s right?
Who’s smarter?
Who’s doing more?
So, before I had a kid, I wondered if I’d carry that forward. I was scared that his accomplishments might feel threatening, like I was being outdone by my own child. But no. Not even close. His wins are my wins.
Instead, I feel like the head cheerleader for his entire life. Like, “Hell yes, go be smarter, go be happier, go outshine every single shadow I ever stood in.” I want him to have an easier, fuller, and richer life. That’s why he’ll be the first in our families to inherit generational wealth from a 529 account, Roth IRA, and custodial brokerage account.
I want him to know success and joy without having to claw through self-doubt and approval-chasing. Watching him thrive heals something deep in me. That’s not just sweet, it’s powerful.
The Weird, Beautiful Ways Kids Remind Us Joy Still Exists
Zero-Filter Fun: Kids don’t do social scripts. They say weird stuff, dance like drunk squirrels, and ask questions like, “Do cats have butts?” It’s bizarre and it’s hilarious, and it yanks you out of your head faster than any self-help book.
Play Coaches: They’ll turn a cardboard box into a spaceship and make up a song about their toes. You start out pretending for their sake, and next thing you know, you’re actually having fun. Yes, you. The grown-up who forgot what fun even feels like. (And if you want to sneak in some life skills while they’re in that playful headspace, here’s how to teach kids responsibility and make chores fun.)
Human Reset Buttons: A toddler hugging you after you just lost your temper? That’ll gut-punch your ego and melt your heart all at once. Kids have this infuriating gift of cutting through the noise and reminding you what actually matters: love, safety, snacks.
Tiny Life Coaches in Pajamas: Every milestone—every new word, new skill, new confidence boost—they’re living proof that growth is messy but worth it. You get front-row seats to becoming. It’s like watching your purpose unfold in real time.
Emotional Bootcamp: Raising a kid will stretch your patience to Olympic levels. You’ll want to scream into the void and cry with pride in the same hour. But damn if it doesn’t make you stronger.
They Love You, Period: Messy hair, yesterday’s shirt, mascara from 2021 still on your face—doesn’t matter. They love you like you invented air. That kind of love heals something ancient.
Masters of the Micro-Moment: They’ll get excited about ants. Or shadows. Or toast. They pull you back to the present, because nothing forces mindfulness like a child yelling, “LOOK AT THIS ROCK!”
Joy Grenades on Bad Days: Even when everything sucks, they drop these little joy bombs—sticky kisses, accidental jokes, weird bedtime confessions—that hit you right in the heart when you need it most.
Need Help Finding Your Joy?
If your brain is fried and joy feels like some abstract word, don’t panic. It’s not gone; it’s just buried under the laundry, the deadlines, the toddler tantrums, and whatever fresh hell this week brought. Start here:
Think in Firsts: What did your kid do lately that made you stop and go, Whoa, you’re growing up! First steps, first joke, first time they wiped their own butt—whatever it was, did it light you up?
Track the Echoes: When they win, do you feel it in your chest? Did their bravery, curiosity, or joy remind you of something you lost in yourself?
Zoom In: Forget big events. Go small. A look, a laugh, a weird dance move. One tiny moment that cracked your burnout shell just for a second.
Compare (For Good): What would the you from five years ago say if she saw you now cheering on this kid, showing up even when you’re exhausted, creating something from nothing every damn day? (If stepping into motherhood felt like a full identity shift, this piece on becoming a stay-at-home parent might hit home.)
Why Journaling Isn’t Optional Anymore
Look, you don’t need to be a poet. You don’t need to write pages every night. You don’t even need a cute notebook. But you do need an outlet because parenting will eat you alive if you don’t carve out space to process it.
Journaling isn’t about being deep or wise. It’s about caring for your mental health by unloading the mental junk drawer so you can stop tripping over it every time you try to think straight.
Here’s what happens when you write stuff down:
You name your emotions—so they stop ambushing you.
You see your patterns—so you stop repeating what’s breaking you.
You get space from your thoughts—so they don’t take over the whole damn house.
You track your wins—so burnout doesn’t erase the progress.
If your brain is screaming, “I don’t have time for this,” that’s the red flag that you definitely need it. One minute. Even one sentence a day helps. Here’s why mental health experts recommend journaling. That’s how you find your way back to yourself.
