I Almost Talked Myself Out of Joy

This past weekend, I caught myself doing something familiar.

It was one of those rare winter weekends in Seattle where the weather feels like a gift. Blue skies. Sunny. 51 degrees! A real “how is this January?” kind of day.

Saturday afternoon, I mentioned to my daughter how perfect it would have been for a camping trip—especially with a 3-day weekend. She looked at me and said, “Well, we could still go, right?”

And immediately, my brain started telling me:

We probably can’t get a campsite.
My husband is out of town—he’d miss it.
It’s a lot of effort to pack everything up.
What about food?
What about the kids’ homework?

Excuse after excuse, neatly stacked. Logical. Convincing. And also completely at odds with what I value most.

So why was I resisting? What makes it so hard to change plans and be spontaneous?

When Logic Overrides What We Know We Need

I know camping brings me so much joy.
I know being in nature grounds me.

Time outside with my kids aligns deeply with my values of beauty, family, and nature.

So why the automatic resistance?

I think it’s because our brains (or at least mine) love efficiency and predictability.

We don’t resist change because we don’t desire the outcome. We resist because change—even positive change—requires energy, flexibility, and a bit of uncertainty.

Sometimes, even good change feels disruptive. It asks us to pivot, to let go of a plan, to be a little less ‘responsible’. And often, our brains would rather keep things stable than take a risk on an uncertain plan.

The ‘Yes’ That Changed Everything

This time, it struck me — my daughter was right. We could still go.

So I said yes.

Sunday, I wrapped up coaching by noon. We were on the road by 1. We kept it simple— a quick stop for food that could be cooked in a cast-iron pan or didn’t require heat at all. No elaborate prep. No pressure. Relatively healthy.

We arrived around 3 p.m. and jumped into our evening of fun.

A small hike.
Marshmallows by the fire.
Board games.
Snuggle up in bed to watch a movie together.

The next morning, we took a slow walk around the campground loop. The sunlight was filtering through the trees. It was so beautiful, I ran back to get my phone to take photos.

We meandered down toward the beach. We admired how the sun was shining above a soft, low layer of fog that hugged the water. We stopped to admire a bald eagle, and heard whales surfacing below. At the beach, a blue heron stood nearby, seemingly enjoying the stillness as much as we were.

It was calm. Moody. Beautiful in an understated way that doesn’t ask for attention but soothes your soul.

You Choose Joy

This weekend reminded me of something I already know but sometimes forget:

We often talk ourselves out of the very things that nourish us.

Not because we don’t want them—but because they require us to say yes before we feel fully ready.

So this is your gentle nudge (and mine):

Say yes to the spontaneous thing.
Say yes before your brain builds a case against it.
Say yes to what aligns with your values—even if it feels a little inconvenient or uncertain.

You never really know what joy might come from it.

When Logic Overrides What We Know We Need

The ‘Yes’ That Changed Everything

You Choose Joy

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