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Finding Joy in the Middle of the Storm
By Danielle Campo McLeod
Life has a way of testing the very core of who we are. One moment, everything feels steady. The next, the ground shifts beneath your feet and you are standing in the wreckage of what once felt certain.
For me, that shift came again recently when my mom — my rock, my teacher, and my best friend — was diagnosed with Lewy body dementia. The news broke something deep inside me. I could feel the air leave my lungs, as if time itself had paused. I did not want to believe it. This was the woman who taught me strength, who stood beside me through every fight for my health, every hospital stay, every win, and every loss. Now I found myself trying to summon the same courage she once modeled for me.
It is in those moments when change arrives without warning that we discover what resilience truly means. Over the years, I have faced many storms — growing up with a neuromuscular disorder, nearly losing my life to sepsis after the birth of my third child, and later learning that two of my children would live with the same disorder I have. Life has never waited for me to be ready. But it has taught me that pain and joy are not opposites. They work together to shape who we become.
The Duality of Living Fully
For a long time, I believed that joy was something that came after pain. I thought I had to be healed, fixed, or finished before happiness could return. But life taught me something very different.
Some of the most joyful moments of my life have been wrapped in grief or fear — smiling through tears as I held my baby in a hospital bed; standing on the podium at the Paralympic Games with medals around my neck, remembering all the days I wanted to give up; laughing with my children on a hard day because even in pain, laughter can heal.
Joy is not the absence of pain. It is the decision to see the light in spite of it.
We spend so much energy trying to push pain away, as if it is an unwelcome guest. But pain is a truth-teller. It reveals what we love most, what we fear losing, and what matters enough to fight for. It invites us to slow down, to listen, and to grow.
When I finally stopped trying to outrun the pain and instead learned to walk beside it, I realized something powerful. I could hold both. I could grieve and still laugh. I could feel broken and still be grateful. I could cry one moment and celebrate the next.
That was when I stopped seeing life as something to survive and began seeing it as something to live fully, with all its beauty and all its messiness.
Turning Pain Into Purpose
Change can be cruel in its timing. It shows up when we least expect it and always when we feel least prepared. But every time life has knocked me down, I have found that purpose was waiting quietly beneath the rubble.
As a Paralympian, a humanitarian, and the National Ambassador for Muscular Dystrophy Canada, my life’s work has grown from moments of deep pain. The tears, the hospital rooms, the uncertainty — they all became fuel. When I used my story to help others, the pain began to transform.
My hardest seasons have become the foundation for everything I stand for. They taught me that resilience is not built in comfort. It is built in chaos. That instead of asking “Why me?” I could learn to say “Try me.” And that even when the world feels unsteady, there is always something to reach for — connection, compassion, or simply the courage to take one more breath.
Every time life changed direction, I learned to adapt. I learned to lead with empathy, to show up even when my heart was breaking, and to keep finding reasons to believe in the good. Hope — even fragile hope — has the power to move us forward.
The Beauty of Both And
Living with both joy and pain is not easy. It is messy, it is real, and it is deeply human. But it is also where our greatest growth happens.
We can be heartbroken and hopeful.
We can be exhausted and grateful.
We can be scared and brave.
When we give ourselves permission to live in the space of both and, we stop resisting life and start embracing it. We become gentler with ourselves. We allow healing to coexist with hurting. We stop pretending to be fine and start being honest. And honest is where joy begins.
Joy is not found after the storm. It is found in the quiet courage of dancing in the rain.
Choosing Light Every Time
Change will always come. Sometimes it whispers, and sometimes it roars. We do not get to choose when it arrives, but we do get to choose how we meet it.
Every time it knocks me down, I try to rise a little stronger, a little wiser, and a little more open to the beauty that still remains. I remind myself that the world is still full of good. It is found in the kindness of strangers, in the laughter of my children, and in the small moments that make life worth living.
Because life is not about waiting for the hard chapters to end. It is about learning to write joy into every page.
Passing the Torch of Resilience
Resilience is not something that lives only within us. It is something we can pass on to others simply by how we live. I believe we teach resilience not by telling others how to be strong, but by showing them how we keep going. We teach it when we give purpose to our pain, when we choose compassion over bitterness, and when we refuse to let hardship harden our hearts.
Passing the torch of resilience does not always mean doing something grand. It is often found in the smallest gestures — the quiet acts of kindness that remind others they are not alone. You never truly know what someone else is carrying.
It might be as simple as grabbing someone’s shopping cart when you are on your way to return your own. It might be holding a door, saying hello, or offering a genuine smile. These moments may seem small, but to someone who is struggling, they can mean everything.
Kindness is a ripple that can change the current of someone’s day. It reminds us that even in a world full of uncertainty, we all have the power to make it softer.
That is what resilience looks like when it is shared. It is not loud or perfect. It is the quiet light that spreads from one person to another, helping each of us find the courage to rise again.
How to Live with Joy and Pain at the Same Time
(Five Steps to Build Everyday Resilience)
Acknowledge What Hurts
Do not bury your pain. Name it. Feel it. You cannot heal what you will not allow yourself to feel. Writing about it, speaking it out loud, or sharing with someone you trust is the first step toward release.Find One Small Joy Each Day
Even in grief, there is light. It might be your child’s laughter, a warm cup of coffee, or a walk outside. Notice it. Gratitude is not denial. It is defiance. It is the quiet voice that says, “I see the pain, but I choose to see the beauty too.”Turn Pain Into Purpose
Ask yourself, “How can this experience make me more compassionate, more aware, and more kind?” Use your story to help others. Purpose is the bridge that carries us from suffering toward healing.Let Others In
You do not have to be strong alone. Connection is medicine. Reach out to friends, family, community, or support networks. Let people show up for you. They want to.Keep Choosing Hope
Hope is not blind optimism. It is the steady belief that something good can still grow from what feels broken. You do not need to see the whole path. Just take one step forward. Every step counts.“Joy is not what comes after pain. It is what we choose in the middle of it.”
About the Author:
Danielle Campo McLeod is a decorated Paralympian, award-winning humanitarian, and National Ambassador for Muscular Dystrophy Canada. She is the author of Resurrection: My Will to Survive is Olympian and a passionate advocate for resilience, connection, and compassion in everyday life.
