Finding the micro-joys of life

I may not feel excitement, but I do have small reminders of a good life.

Lately I’ve felt stuck in this weird in-between.

Not burned out, exactly. But not excited, either. Everything feels a little muted, like the color has been turned down on the parts of life that used to light me up. I keep waiting for the switch to flip—for energy, clarity, joy—to flood back in. But it doesn’t. At least not all at once.

I told my dietitian I was hoping that by leaving my job, my body would just exhale. Let go of some of the stress.

She smiled.

“We both know that’s not how this works.”

The heaviness I’m carrying didn’t develop overnight, and it certainly isn’t going to go away overnight. Patience feels hard to come by these days, but it’s necessary for survival.

To be clear, some of this has been a literal in-between. I started my new job today at Zapier, which feels like a more formal closing of a chapter I had tried to close months before. I’ve been forced to accept that everything takes longer than I’d like it to, and this is just a side effect of being an impatient person. And that’s okay.

So instead of chasing excitement, I’ve been trying something different. I’ve been focusing on the micro-joys in my day. Fleeting events that bring me a moment of happiness. They don’t last, and they’re not big enough to build a whole mood around, but they spark a little flicker of light into the day. A reminder that I’m still here. Still noticing. Still feeling—if only a little bit.

Some of my micro-joys lately:

• Going for a run outside before the world wakes up (and the city heats up)

• That first sip of really good iced coffee

• A comment about my writing resonating with someone

• Finishing a book and then immediately starting another

• Putting fresh flowers on my desk (they were a gift)

• Driving around neighborhoods window shopping for a future home

• Starting and finishing a 1,000-piece puzzle in a single 4-hour sitting

These micro-joys aren’t magical. They don’t erase the heaviness I’m still carrying. They don’t fix the fact that I feel disconnected from my body most days, or the fear that maybe I made the wrong decision about something big, even when I know I didn’t.

But something has shifted. Not everything, and not all at once. But enough.

These moments—they don’t ask me to feel better. They just ask me to notice.

And lately, noticing feels a little easier. Lighter.

And that’s worth celebrating.