When JOY Shows Up Uninvited (But I Guess I'll Allow It)

December is here—the grand finale of the year, the month that arrives wearing fairy lights and jingling bells, demanding you feel JOY whether you ordered it or not. Honestly, December is that overly enthusiastic friend who barges into your house yelling, “Surprise!” while you’re still in last year’s pajamas. But fine, let’s talk JOY.

This is the month when families meet, weddings multiply like forwarded WhatsApp messages, and everyone suddenly remembers that Goa exists. People start travelling, gifting, and over-smiling. And because it’s December, all these chaotic routines are magically labelled as “festive JOY,” even when you're stuck in a five-hour traffic jam behind a car carrying a baraat speaker louder than your will to live.

But sure—JOY.

December also brings birthdays, Christmas, and the annual ritual of pretending next year will finally turn us into morning-walk, green-smoothie kind of people. (Spoiler: it won’t. But let’s maintain the illusion. December thrives on lies dressed as optimism.) Still, there’s a tiny, undeniable JOY in believing we get a fresh start. Like installing a software update on our life but conveniently skipping the release notes.

Some people take this season very seriously. They reflect. They journal. They count blessings. I try that every year, too. I sit with a cup of coffee, ready to write “Things That Brought Me JOY in 2025,” and suddenly my brain reboots like a 90s computer and writes the same line three times:

“Survived. Survived. Survived.”

Honestly, survival should count as JOY. I’m adding it to the list.

But here’s the real magic: even in all the chaos, December has this weird talent for sneaking in pockets of unexpected JOY. Like that moment when an old friend suddenly calls, or when your mom smiles at you for finishing a chore without being asked (miracles do happen). Or when the year has been so exhausting that simply sitting still feels like you’ve won a Nobel Prize in Peace (with yourself).

JOY doesn’t always look like Instagram. Sometimes it looks like a warm blanket, a badly made chai that still hits the spot, or a quiet evening where no one asks, “What’s your plan for 2026?” That, my friend, is premium JOY.

So yes, December zooms by faster than your salary disappears, but maybe that’s the point. It rushes in with noise, colour, chaos, and unexpected softness, reminding us that JOY doesn’t always arrive politely. Sometimes, it taps your shoulder while you’re mid-meltdown and says, “Move over, drama. Let me sit.”

And honestly? I’ll take it.

Happy December.

Happy surviving.

And may JOY find you even if you’re not looking for it.

This post is a part of Blogaberry Creative (Monthly) Challenge December 2025, prompt 'JOY'