I’m in Cancun right now. On vacation. Poolside. Palm trees. Morning light. A setting made for rest. But I keep waking up with the same thought:

What should I do today?
What do I need to accomplish?

Even drawing, which I usually do for fun, comes with a whisper: Maybe I should post this. Maybe I should produce something.

That drive to do is sneaky. It wears creative clothes. But underneath, it’s the same old pressure I’ve carried since I was small:

Do something worthy. Be productive. Earn your keep.

As a kid, I used to scour the house for sugar. Ludens cough drops were candy to me. I tried eating cocoa powder (more times than I’d like to admit) because the picture on the box looked so delicious. I’d sneak gum, peppermints—anything sweet. And I never wanted to get caught.

Why? Because it wasn’t just about candy.
It was about craving something I didn’t think I deserved:
sweetness. ease. pleasure.

That same energy lives in me now. I still hide candy in drawers and in the car. I still feel a flush of guilt when Kelly catches me napping—even though she never judges me. In fact, she encourages it.

Still, I hear that old voice:

You’re being lazy. You’re sneaking joy. You better not get caught.

Growing up, I wanted to be the kind of kid who skied all day—no breaks. Respectable. Tireless. Deserving of hot chocolate.

But the truth? I was always watching the clock.
How many runs is enough before I can go inside and read by the fire?

I wasn’t the all-day-adventure type. My secret best days were cheese pizza and back-to-back movies. Reading in bed. Drawing. Dreaming. Being warm and quiet and alone.

And I loved that girl. But I believed she was less than.
Less than the driven, active, high-achieving bodies around me.

Part of me wants to be of service. To make the world better. That part feels noble and praised and safe.

But there’s another part I’ve hidden:
The lounging, TV-watching, candy-sneaking girl. The playful, dreamy, slow-moving version of me.

And I realize now:

I’ve worn productivity like armor.
If I’m working, I can’t be rejected—because I’m performing.
But joy? That’s naked. That’s raw. That’s me, exposed.

What if I stopped sneaking sweetness, and started scheduling it?

I used to think that scheduling joy made it less authentic.
Now, I know it gives me permission in advance.

🗓️ Joy on a schedule looks like:

• Going to the movies in the middle of the day

• Reading Frieda McFadden novels just for fun

• Playing with my 80s toy collection—She-Ra, Popples, Strawberry Shortcake

• Merchandising Legos on my shelves like my own queer toy store

• Taking naps (glorious naps!)

• Floating in the pool or soaking in the hot tub

• Listening to records or Audible

• Walking with Otis

• Watching the light change on the porch with Kelly

• Snuggling. Slow mornings. Early nights. Books in bed.

This isn’t laziness.
This is aliveness.
This isn’t sugar.
It’s medicine.

To the girl who hid candy, hid naps, hid joy:

You are not lazy.
You are not shameful.
You are not less than.
You are whole.
You are allowed.
You are medicine.

And I will not make you earn your joy anymore.

Do you have a guilty pleasure you want to reclaim as sacred?
What’s your joy—your real, no-need-to-earn-it, medicine-for-your-soul joy?

Let’s unhide it. Let’s share it.
Because shame needs secrecy—and we’re done with secrets.

Drop it in the comments. Or email me your favorite joy-on-a-leash moment. Let’s blow the lid off this thing.

For just $8/month—the price of one sad airport smoothie or two fancy Band-Aids—you can unlock the Joy Reclaimed subscriber bundle, featuring:

✨ A Soul Hug audio recording (like a permission slip whispered straight to your nervous system)
📄 A Joy Schedule template (because joy deserves a Google Calendar invite too)
🛋️ The 5 Steps to Unleashing Joy guide (yes, you can reclaim your couch time)
🧸 A peek at my vintage toy collection (Garfield, E.T., Back to the Future, Indiana Jones…you know you’re curious)
📚 A curated book list on joy, rest, play, and reclaiming your magic
🫧 And other treats that feel like bubble baths for your spirit

Honestly, this whole joy club costs less than a fancy oat milk latte.
And unlike caffeine, it doesn’t come with anxiety.

So go ahead—upgrade, exhale, and let’s do joy out loud. 💛
👉 Become a paid subscriber here