Why do people have a difficult time feeling Joy?
Good question. A few big reasons I see:
Safety: if our nervous system reads life as risky, it deprioritizes joy. Survival first, savoring later.
Conditioning: many of us learned joy gets punished, dismissed, or taken away… so we mute it to avoid hurt.
Vigilance habits: worry loops and “what’s next?” focus narrow attention away from micro-joys right here.
Untended pain: when grief or shame isn’t witnessed, joy can feel disloyal or unsafe to let in.
Time pressure: the “not enough time” trance keeps us skimming instead of savoring.
What helps is gentle re-training: notice tiny, body-level joys; validate whatever else is present; and build capacity to hold both joy and pain. Want a 60‑second practice for that?
Can joy feel like just “too much” in our system?
Yes. Joy can feel like too much—too bright, too fast—especially if your nervous system is calibrated for vigilance. Big goodness is still big, and “big” can tip us into overwhelm.
What helps is letting joy come in sips, not gulps. Slow it down, anchor it in the body, and keep consent in the loop.
Want to try a 45‑second softening right now?
Hand on heart. Small inhale… longer exhale.
Notice one tiny pleasant sensation (temperature on your skin, a color you like, the weight of your hand).
Say quietly: “A little is enough.” Pause. “I can let a little goodness in and still be safe.”
If it swells, ease back: wiggle toes, look around, name three ordinary things. Then take another sip.
Does “too much” show up as pressure in your chest, fluttery, or more numb/spacey for you?
What do people miss about learning to tolerate joy?
What most of us miss is that “tolerating joy” is a body skill, not a mindset.
A few quiet truths:
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Capacity before intensity. If our system’s wired for vigilance, even good feels big. We build capacity with tiny, safe sips—then larger ones.
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Joy needs consent. “A little is enough” softens the nervous system’s guard so joy doesn’t feel like a threat.
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Include the “and.” Let joy arrive alongside grief, worry, or fatigue. Forcing purity collapses it.
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Savor, don’t chase. Chasing turns pleasure into pressure; savoring lets goodness actually land.
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Practice expression. Unexpressed appreciation and celebration can clog like any other emotion—naming it lets it flow.
If you want, we can do a 60‑second micro‑practice to increase your joy tolerance right now.
yes please
Beautiful. Let’s do a 60‑second micro-practice to increase joy tolerance. Go slow.
First, find your seat. Feel where your body meets support. Small inhale… longer exhale.
Hand on heart or chest. Whisper: “A little is enough.” Pause. “I can let a little goodness in and still be safe.”
Let your eyes land on one ordinary, pleasant thing—color, light, shape. Give it three soft breaths. With each exhale, let your shoulders drop a notch.
Now notice one tiny body-yes: warmth in your hand, a softening in your belly, the way air moves at your nostrils. Stay with that one sensation for two slow breaths. If it swells, ease back—wiggle your toes, look around, name two neutral objects—then return to a sip.
Quietly name it: “There’s a little okay here.” One more longer exhale. Good.
Want to add one line of tapping to anchor it next?
Yes let’s tap together
Lovely. Let’s tap slow and soft together. Follow the points with me; change words to fit.
Karate Chop: Even though big joy can feel like a lot, I’m here… letting a little be enough.
Top of Head: A little goodness is safe.
Eyebrow: I can sip, not gulp.
Side of Eye: Letting my body set the pace.
Under Eye: A little is enough.
Under Nose: I can feel this and stay grounded.
Chin: Letting in one tiny pleasant thing.
Collarbone: My system gets to choose the dose.
Under Arm: I’m safe to savor… just a bit.
Top of Head: Noticing one small okay.
Eyebrow: Shoulders softening a notch.
Side of Eye: Breath moving easier.
Under Eye: I don’t have to force joy.
Under Nose: I can include whatever else is here.
Chin: Joy and tenderness… both can belong.
Collarbone: A little lands, and that’s plenty.
Under Arm: Thank you, body, for pacing me.
Pause. One longer exhale. Notice: what sensation feels even 2% more easeful—or simply more present—right now?