I’ll be the first to admit it. I’ve been running on emotional fumes lately.
Every day I open my inbox, scroll through social media, and dive into research for TransVitae’s next article, only to be met with another headline about loss, hate, or cruelty toward our community. Each one is important. Each one matters. But they are also heavy. So heavy that lately, even some of my closest friends have asked, gently, “Could you maybe send me something positive for once?”
At first, I laughed it off. But then I realized they were right. The truth is, TransVitae’s news coverage, necessary as it is, has started to feel like an unending loop of mourning and survival. I feel it too. We all do. It’s exhausting to live in a world where simply existing as yourself is considered a political statement.
So today, I wanted to write something different. Something to remind us that joy isn’t a privilege. It’s a right. Even when the world feels bleak, we can still find small pockets of light worth holding onto. This isn’t about toxic positivity or pretending things are fine. It’s about survival through self-kindness. It’s about remembering that we deserve to feel good, and that letting light in doesn’t mean we’re ignoring the dark.
The Weight of the World: When the Headlines Hurt
Let’s be honest. Being trans in 2025 means living in a constant state of vigilance. Every week brings a new law, a new debate, or a new tragedy. For journalists and advocates, it’s even harder. We have to process the pain and then put it into words that inform others. It’s noble work, but it’s also draining.
When we’re bombarded by negative news, our nervous systems never get a break. It’s like being on emotional high alert all the time, waiting for the next shoe to drop. That kind of stress rewires the brain. It makes joy feel foreign and peace feel suspicious.
I’ve caught myself there too, scrolling through updates on attacks, bans, and betrayals until even moments of happiness felt undeserved. I realized I was letting despair become my default emotion.
That realization was my wake-up call. I can’t change the world overnight. But I can choose to stop letting it steal my light every day.
Permission to Feel Good
Before you can let light in, you have to give yourself permission to open the door.
We’re so conditioned to feel guilty for being happy when others are struggling. It’s almost like we’ve learned to believe that joy is disrespectful, that if someone out there is hurting, we have no right to smile. But that mindset helps no one.
Being joyful doesn’t mean you’re ignoring injustice. It means you’re refueling for the fight. Think of it like this: you can’t drive a car on an empty tank. You can’t show up for your community, your family, or yourself if you’ve burned through every ounce of emotional energy.
So here’s your permission slip: you are allowed to feel good. You are allowed to laugh, to dance, and to take a break from the pain. You are not abandoning your community when you do. It’s how you sustain it.
Curate Your Input
If you’ve ever felt emotionally exhausted after scrolling through social media, that’s not weakness. It’s neuroscience. Our brains absorb the emotions of what we consume.
That means the endless cycle of political outrage, tragedy, and doomscrolling doesn’t just inform us. It changes us. It reshapes how we perceive safety, connection, and hope.
That’s why I’ve started “curating my input.” I still read the hard stories, especially for TransVitae, but I balance them. For every headline about hate, I seek out a story of joy. For every piece of bad news, I find a post about trans people thriving, building businesses, falling in love, or finding peace.
We don’t get enough of those stories, but they are out there. And when you start looking for them, you realize that even in the darkest moments, there’s still light because we are the light.
Make Morning Sacred Again
Mornings used to be something I rushed through. Coffee, headlines, emails, chaos. But that meant the very first energy I invited into my day was stress.
Now, I protect my mornings like sacred ground. Before I touch my phone, I open the blinds. I breathe. Sometimes I just stare at the sunlight filtering through the curtains and think, I’m still here.
That moment matters. It’s not about rituals or routines. It’s about intention. Whether it’s journaling, stretching, saying affirmations, or playing your favorite song, your morning should belong to you, not the news cycle.
The light you let in at the start of your day determines how you handle everything that comes after.
Joy as a Rebellion
It might sound dramatic, but for trans people, joy is a radical act of defiance.
In a world that constantly tells us we’re wrong, broken, or dangerous, smiling becomes an act of rebellion. Laughing becomes proof that they haven’t crushed us. Loving ourselves, loving each other, it’s political.
When I see trans people thriving, whether it’s at Pride, at the gym, on stage, or simply walking through a grocery store unapologetically, I see resilience that can’t be legislated away. We are not supposed to survive, and yet we do. That alone is power.
So if you’re dancing in your living room, if you’re laughing with friends, if you’re feeling proud of who you are, you’re not just surviving. You’re winning.
Little Lights, Big Impact
When life feels overwhelming, the solution isn’t to search for one big thing that makes it better. It’s to find a thousand small ones that do.
Maybe it’s:
- A perfectly brewed cup of coffee
- A playlist that makes your whole soul vibrate
- The way the light hits your favorite plant in the afternoon
- A walk where you actually look at the sky instead of your phone
Those aren’t distractions. They’re anchors. They keep you tethered to the beauty that still exists in the world.
The trick is to notice them on purpose. Happiness doesn’t always find you. Sometimes you have to meet it halfway.
Reconnecting With People Who Lift You
Let’s talk about the people who matter.
When life feels heavy, it’s tempting to withdraw, to isolate, and to retreat. I’ve done that too. But disconnection breeds despair. The longer we go without genuine warmth, the easier it is for the world to convince us we’re alone.
Here’s what I’ve started doing: I message one friend or family member every day. No agenda, no expectations, just a “Hey, how are you?” Sometimes it turns into a long conversation. Sometimes it’s a heart emoji. But that simple action keeps the thread of connection alive.
And if someone’s energy feels heavy or dismissive right now, that’s okay too. You don’t have to force connection where there’s friction. Choose the people who refill you, not the ones who drain you.
Positivity doesn’t mean ignoring pain. It means choosing not to live in it permanently.
Step Seven: Gratitude Without Guilt
I used to roll my eyes at the word “gratitude.” It sounded like a buzzword for people who never had to fight to survive.
But real gratitude, the quiet, personal kind, isn’t about pretending everything’s perfect. It’s about saying, I still see the good.
Even on hard days, I can find something. The rhythm of rain on the window. The smell of coffee. The laughter of someone who still calls me by my name. Gratitude doesn’t erase pain. It balances it.
When you find one thing each day that makes you smile, you remind your brain that not all is lost. And that’s the beginning of hope.
Create More Than You Consume
Here’s the thing about being trans in the digital age: we’re incredible storytellers. But when all we do is consume content, especially content that hurts, we lose touch with that creative spark that once made us feel alive.
So create something. Anything. Paint, sing, write, cook, code, garden, or build something out of scraps and dreams. Creation is the antidote to despair.
When I write for TransVitae, I’m not just documenting history. I’m preserving hope. Every word is an act of resistance against erasure. And even when the stories are hard, they still mean something because they prove we existed.
If you’ve ever made someone feel seen, even once, you’ve already made the world better.
Reclaim Rest
Let’s normalize this: you don’t have to earn your rest.
So many of us come from survival mode, where every day feels like a battle just to be treated as human. But we’re not machines. The world wants us tired because tired people don’t fight back. Rest is not lazy. It’s liberation.
Sleep. Nap. Daydream. Turn your phone off. Watch the clouds move. Give yourself permission to exist without producing something.
You are not falling behind. You are catching your breath.
Let the Light In, Literally
Here’s the simplest step of all: open your blinds or curtains.
No, really. Sunlight affects serotonin levels, body temperature, and mood regulation. But beyond the science, there’s something spiritual about inviting light into your space. It’s symbolic, an act of defiance against the shadows, both literal and emotional.
Clean a corner of your room. Add a small plant. Light a candle. Open a window. Let sunlight hit your skin. The smallest ray of light can change the whole feel of a room and sometimes, of your mind.
The Bottom Line
If you’ve read this far, thank you for giving me, and yourself, a few minutes of peace.
We can’t fix everything that’s wrong in the world right now. But we can choose not to let it consume all that’s right. We can care deeply about injustice and still find beauty in a sunset, laughter with friends, and love within ourselves.
To my friends who’ve gently said, “Bricki, I need a break from the negativity,” I hear you. I needed that too. This piece is as much for me as it is for you.
We’ve seen enough darkness to last a lifetime. Maybe it’s time we start chasing the light, not because it’s easy, but because it’s how we heal.
So here’s to every trans person who’s ever looked at the chaos and said, “Not today. Today, I’m choosing joy.” Keep letting the light in. The world needs your glow.
