For the mother who feels guilty every time she smiles: Joy Is Not Betrayal
Dear Mama,
I know what you’re thinking.
“How can I possibly feel joy when my child is suffering?”
“How can I laugh when they’re in such darkness?”
“How can I enjoy anything when they might not survive this?”
And underneath those questions is the belief that’s holding you hostage:
“If I’m happy while they’re hurting, I’m a bad mother.”
So you’ve made an unspoken vow: I will only be well when they are well.
You’ve tied your emotional state to theirs.
Your peace to their healing.
Your joy to their survival.
And in doing so, you’ve given their illness complete control over your life.
The Lie of Joy Guilt
There’s a name for what you’re experiencing: joy guilt.
It’s the toxic belief that your happiness betrays their pain.
It sounds noble. It sounds sacrificial. It sounds like love.
But it’s a lie.
And it’s destroying you.
Because here’s the truth:
Your suffering does NOT reduce theirs.
Your misery does NOT ease their burden.
Your joylessness does NOT heal their brain.
Your constant worry does NOT keep them safer.
All it does is ensure that TWO people are drowning instead of one.
What You’re Really Saying
When you refuse to allow yourself moments of joy, here’s what you’re unconsciously communicating to your struggling child:
“Your existence is destroying me.”
“Life with pain is unbearable.”
“If you can’t be happy, neither can I.”
“You are a burden.”
I know that’s not what you mean. I know your heart is pure sacrifice and fierce love.
But that’s the message they receive when all they see is:
- Your exhaustion
- Your constant worry
- Your lost smile
- Your life consumed by their struggle
- A woman who’s disappeared into their crisis
The Paradigm Shift: Joy as Love
Now, what if I told you that reclaiming your joy is actually one of the most loving things you can do for them?
Stay with me.
If your child could see you:
- Finding moments of peace even while holding their pain
- Laughing with your spouse
- Pursuing a hobby
- Resting
- Enjoying small pleasures
- Living fully even while they struggle
What message would that send?
It would say:
“Life can still have goodness in it, even in the valley.”
“Joy and pain can coexist.”
“Your suffering doesn’t have to consume everyone around you.”
“There is still hope. Look—Mom is proof.”
You wouldn’t be abandoning them. You’d be modeling resilience.
You wouldn’t be betraying them. You’d be witnessing to hope.
Biblical Permission to Rejoice
Maybe you need scriptural permission. Here it is:
Nehemiah 8:10
“The joy of the LORD is your strength.”
Not your worry.
Not your hypervigilance.
Not your sacrifice.
Your JOY is your strength.
Ecclesiastes 3:1, 4
“For everything there is a season… a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.”
Notice: You don’t have to STOP weeping to laugh.
You don’t have to STOP mourning to dance.
Both can happen in the same day. The same hour. The same heart.
Philippians 4:4
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.”
Paul wrote that from PRISON.
While suffering.
While facing death.
He didn’t say “rejoice when everything is fixed.”
He said “rejoice ALWAYS.”
Even in the valley.
Even in the waiting.
Even when the outcome is unknown.
Because joy is not dependent on circumstances.
It’s an act of defiance against despair.
The Most Loving Thing You Can Do
Here’s what I want you to consider:
If you only had 6 months left with your child, how would you want to spend that time?
Consumed with terror?
Drowning in fear?
So anxious you can’t be present?
Or loving them well?
Being present (not perfect, not fixing, just THERE)?
Enjoying the time you have?
Showing them what peace looks like even in uncertainty?
Your peace might be the greatest gift you ever give them.
Not because it fixes their brain.
But because it shows them that life can still be good, even when it’s hard.
What Joy Looks Like in the Valley
I’m not talking about toxic positivity.
I’m not suggesting you pretend everything is fine.
I’m not saying “just be grateful and you’ll feel better.”
I’m talking about small, defiant acts of living:
- Laughing at something funny, even while holding grief
- Taking a walk and noticing the sky
- Enjoying your coffee in the morning
- Calling a friend
- Pursuing a hobby you’ve abandoned
- Resting without guilt
- Dancing in your kitchen
- Saying yes to an invitation
- Letting yourself feel pleasure without immediately drowning it in shame
These aren’t betrayals.
These are survival strategies.
These are how you endure a marathon you never asked to run.
Talking Back to Joy Guilt
When you try to do something joyful and guilt shows up (and it will), here’s what you say:
“My joy doesn’t betray my child.”
“My peace doesn’t abandon them.”
“My laughter doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
“I can grieve AND rejoice. Both can be true.”
“The joy of the Lord is my strength.”
“God didn’t give me this one precious life to spend it entirely consumed by someone else’s pain.”
“I am allowed to be a whole person, not just their worried mother.”
“I will love them fiercely AND care for myself. Both can be true.”
The Permission You Need
So here it is, mama:
You have permission to:
- Sleep well tonight
- Enjoy a meal
- Laugh at a joke
- Take a day off from worry
- Pursue something that brings you pleasure
- Feel happiness without guilt
- Live fully even while they’re barely surviving
You have permission to be well even if they are not.
You have permission to survive this, no matter what happens to them.
Not because you love them less.
But because you are a human being with inherent worth, and your life matters too.
What They Would Want for You
One more thing:
If your child could see the full weight of how much you’re suffering FOR them—
The sleepless nights.
The lost joy.
The consumed existence.
The woman who’s disappeared.
What do you think they would want for you?
Would they want you to drown?
Or would they want you to find a way to breathe?
I’m guessing they’d want you to be okay.
Even if they can’t be okay right now.
So honor them by giving yourself permission to live.
Your Assignment
This week, do ONE thing that used to bring you joy.
Not because they’re healed.
Not because you’ve earned it.
Not because everything is okay.
But because you deserve to remember what it feels like to be YOU.
- Call a friend
- Go for a drive with the windows down
- Read a book for pleasure
- Walk in nature
- Go to the movies
- Sit in silence with coffee and watch the sunrise/sunset
Do it even if guilt comes.
Do it even if your brain screams “You shouldn’t be enjoying this.”
Do it anyway.
Because joy is not betrayal.
Joy is resistance.
Joy is hope.
Joy is the proof that darkness doesn’t get the last word.
You are allowed to live, mama.
Even now.
Even in this.
God wants you to.
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