Joy as Proof of Healing

Backstroke & Breakthroughs – Post #27

After years of survival-mode leadership, navigating harm, holding space, advocating, facilitating, and carrying emotional labor like it was part of my DNA, I almost forgot joy was part of the job, too.

Not the polite kind. Not the “thank you for your service” applause after DEI panels.
But real, soul-deep joy.
The kind that bubbles up quietly and says, “You’re not just here to fix. You’re here to feel.”

And what I didn’t expect was how much joy would live inside that work.

There’s joy in helping a student breathe through a moment instead of exploding.
There’s joy in watching a teacher shift from punishment to patience.
There’s joy in creating calm without trying to control the room.
There’s joy in seeing that your presence, not just your performance, makes things better.

And here’s the lesson that’s landed the hardest:

Joy is a form of leadership.

Not because it erases the hard stuff. But because it reminds us why we’re doing the hard stuff in the first place.
Joy is what keeps the mission from turning into martyrdom.
Joy is what healing feels like when it’s working.

I’m realizing that part of reclaiming my leadership is allowing myself to enjoy what I’m building, without guilt. Without apology. Without waiting for someone else to affirm that it’s okay to smile while doing transformational work.

This week’s takeaway:
You are allowed to experience joy in the middle of your healing. You don’t have to wait until it’s all fixed. Sometimes, joy is the fixing.

So today, I celebrate:

• The student who finally made eye contact.
  
• The administrator who took feedback without defensiveness.
  
• The moment I realized I didn’t feel heavy walking into work.
  
• The peace I feel after a day spent pouring from a cup that’s not empty.
  

This is leadership, too.
This is what healing looks like when it has room to breathe.

And if you’ve forgotten what joy feels like in your own journey—I hope this post brings you a breath. You deserve it.

Still,
– J.R.