You Don’t Need Perfect Conditions to Be Happy

Joy doesn’t wait for perfect conditions

There’s a quiet lie many of us absorb without realizing it:

“I’ll let myself feel joy once things settle down.”

“I’ll feel grateful when the bank account looks better.”“

I’ll relax when the deadlines are caught up.”

But what if that moment never fully arrives?

Because here’s the truth many of us are living right now:

You can be staring at a code-red bank account after the holidays,

rocking a sick toddler at 2 a.m.,

behind on deadlines,

dealing with setbacks in your business,

running on coffee and fumes,

watching the gray, frigid Northeast sky do absolutely nothing for your mood…

Why You Don’t Need Perfect Conditions to Be Happy

You don’t need perfect conditions to be happy, even though we’re often taught to wait until everything feels settled or complete —

and still feel immense joy and gratitude at the same time.

At first glance, that sounds impossible.

So how can both be true?

The Difference Between Occurrences and Being

The stressors—the missed deadlines, the sleepless nights, the sick child, the financial pressure, the dreary weather—they are real.

But they are not who you are.

They are occurrences.

Occurrences move through your life. Temporary. Loud. Demanding.

They knock on the door—sometimes kick it in—but they are not your essence.

Joy, on the other hand, is a state of being.

And the two can coexist.

A Real Moment From My Life

Right now, I can tell you honestly:

Things aren’t perfect.

There’s less sleep than I’d like.

More to-dos than hours.

Deadlines I wish I’d met sooner.

A nervous system that hasn’t fully caught up since the holidays.

And yet—

I am sitting here in complete and utter gratitude.

Grateful for the honor of being this toddler’s mother—a child I prayed for, waited for, hoped for, and dreamed of for years.

Grateful for the view outside my window—a quiet reminder of how far life has carried me.

Grateful that through work, sacrifice, and showing up again and again, my husband and I have built a life that allows us to live between Boston, New York, and Florida.

That doesn’t erase the challenges.

But it changes how I meet them.

How Can Joy Exist When Life Is Hard?

Think of joy not as a reaction to circumstances, but as something deeper.

People call this “quantum.” I’ll go deeper on that later.

At its core, this is about where truth lives.

Your inner world can lead before your outer world catches up.

In other words:

your inner state does not have to mirror your external circumstances.

The real truth is your inner knowing—the state you’re in beneath the noise, beneath the fear, beneath the stories your mind tells you.

That inner knowing is real.

And it can be steady even when life is not.

Joy can show up first.

The rest can sort itself out later.

Joy in the Middle of the Mess

Joy doesn’t always look like a spa day or a curated morning routine.

Sometimes it looks like:

• Eating breakfast on the floor while playing "kitchen" with your toddler

• Seeing your neighbor’s absurdly cute puppies on the way to get the mail

• Laughing at a voice memo from a friend who really gets it

• Feeling the warmth of a mug in your hands while the sky stays gray

• Catching five quiet minutes when the house finally goes still

These moments don’t fix everything.

But they anchor you back into being alive.

Where This Truth Was Etched Into My Bones

I learned this lesson in the most painful way possible. Twice.

Two people I loved deeply showed me what joy really is—not as a reaction to life, but as a way of being.

My Cousin T

There is one soul who taught me this lesson long before I had language for it.

My cousin T.

He was one of those people who made everything lighter just by walking into a room—joyful, loving, and effortlessly fun to be around.

T lived with a serious health condition that grew more complex over time. Eventually, it meant numerous procedures, major interventions, and ongoing treatments. Chronic pain.

Weakness. Uncertainty.

And still—life didn’t pause.

He had small children he adored.

A business to run.

Employees who depended on him.

A family relying on him as the financial provider.

There was a lot on his plate.

When He Became My Rock

Around the time his health became truly serious, my own world cracked open.

I was young. Just starting out.

And I received a diagnosis that rocked me to my core.

I was paralyzed by fear.

And T got it.

He didn’t minimize it.

He didn’t rush me past it.

He stood with me in it.

We supported each other, chose laughter where we could, held space for the hard parts, and kept going.

He modeled something I’ve carried ever since:

The only way through is through.

And if the only way through was through, he chose to walk it with grace, pizzazz, and laughter—not because it was easy, but because fear contracts and joy expands.

When Grief Took Me to My Knees

This January marks 13 years since his passing.

When T died, I collapsed into grief—the kind that drops you to the floor and rearranges you from the inside out.

With time, he became my why.

My reason to get out of bed when I didn’t feel like it.

My reason to keep showing up—to work, to life, to love.

He couldn’t keep living.

So it was up to us.

To live.

To thrive

To carry him forward.

I’ve moved four times since he passed, and every single time, his photo is the first thing that goes up on my wall.

Always.

Bella

Two years ago, my soul sister Bella passed after a long illness—on Christmas.

She was the epitome of joy and gratitude.

Her joy was not circumstantial.

It was chosen.

And more than that—it was embodied.

Bella didn’t have “family by definition,” so she built her own.

She created friendships that became family. She nurtured them with intention, humor, presence, and fierce love. She let her pain fuel her mission, creating teachable moments that changed not only her chosen family but the clients she coached.

I remember the moment I knew her passing was inevitable.She had already healed and lived longer than expected—a gift we never took lightly.

And I knew I would never be the same.

Carrying Love Forward

Bella is with me every single day.

I think of her in the moments where I feel like I cannot go on.

And I think of her in the moments of beauty—when I wish she were physically here to experience them with me.

I carry her photo in my car so I can take her everywhere I go.

Love doesn’t end when someone leaves this world.

It changes form—but it stays.

What They Taught Me

T and Bella are my reminder.

My inspiration.

My why.

They taught me that it doesn’t matter what life hands you—whether it’s a small inconvenience or a colossal poop storm (yes, we’ve cleaned up our language now that toddlers repeat everything).

Joy is not just a choice.

It is a state of being.

One you can inhabit while grieving.

While exhausted.

While afraid.

While deeply alive.

Joy doesn’t deny the storm.

It teaches us how to stand inside it—fully alive.