Describe one of your favorite moments.

How One Random, Unfiltered Moment Reminded Me I’m Still Here, Still Magic

The Moment That Changed Absolutely Nothing… And Everything

I was having one of those weeks. You know the ones. Where the to-do list grows fangs, your phone won’t stop reminding you how “productive” you should be, and you suddenly remember that spinach in your fridge has been decomposing since Beyoncé dropped Lemonade. Yep. That kind of week.

It was a Wednesday. It was humid. I had just left a meeting that could’ve been an email and a therapy session where I said “I’m fine” 17 times when I clearly wasn’t. My playlist was on shuffle, my thoughts were a mess, and then—because the universe loves a little drama—it started raining.

Not a polite sprinkle. A full-blown cinematic downpour. And I had two choices:

1. Dash to the car like a frazzled extra in someone else’s movie

2. Or stop running, close my eyes, and just… feel it

So I danced. Right there in the parking lot. In thrifted jeans and boots that weren’t even waterproof. I didn’t record it. I didn’t try to make it “a moment.” But it became the moment.

We Don’t Just Deserve Joy—We Need It

Let me be clear: I’m not out here romanticizing struggle. This wasn’t some poetic breakthrough in the middle of trauma. What it was… was a reminder. That my body still recognizes joy. That my spirit hasn’t given up on wonder. That even with bills due, knees cracking, and capitalism breathing down my neck—I still know how to play.

Because the older we get, the harder it is to catch those flashes of freedom. We’re taught to organize, optimize, and compartmentalize. Joy gets shoved into the “after I accomplish XYZ” folder.

But life’s not waiting on your milestone checklist to hand you peace. Sometimes, peace shows up soaking wet and uninvited, and dares you to dance with it anyway.

The Psychology of “Small Joys” (Yes, There’s Science)

There’s actually a term for what I experienced: awe-induced presence. According to mental health pros, small yet powerful experiences—like watching a sunset, hearing your favorite song unexpectedly, or yep, dancing in the rain—can jolt us back into our bodies. They disrupt the overthinking loop and activate parts of the brain associated with pleasure and connection.

Studies show these micro-moments can:

• Lower cortisol (the stress hormone we all pretend we’re not fighting)
• Increase serotonin and dopamine (hello, feel-good chemicals)
• Create a mini-reset for emotional regulation

So no, that random dance break didn’t pay my rent. But it did reroute my nervous system away from burnout. And in 2025? That’s revolutionary in itself.

[Awe as a Pathway to Mental and Physical Health]

A Word for the Control Freaks (Hi, Me)

If you’re the kind of person who thrives on structure (guilty), letting go isn’t easy. I didn’t plan to dance. I didn’t schedule a “romantic moment with the elements.” I was just tired—and then I was free.

Let that sit.

There’s a radical beauty in allowing yourself to not be in control. In giving your inner child the mic for once. Mine’s apparently still into 90s R&B, puddle stomping, and throwing side-eyes at people who forget to moisturize. She’s a vibe.

So often, we chase big answers. When really, it’s the little affirmations that restore us.

Your body knows.

Your spirit remembers.

Your joy is still accessible—even if it’s been on Do Not Disturb.

How to Find Your Rain Dance Moment

Not everyone’s going to drop everything and pirouette in a parking lot. I get it. But here’s what helped me re-tap into the kind of joy that doesn’t perform for Instagram:

1. Reclaim Spontaneity

Say yes to something low-stakes. Sing loudly in your car. Try a new lipstick for no reason. Order the fancy version of your usual coffee just because.

2. Schedule Unscheduled Time

Set aside 30 minutes where there’s no to-do list. Literally block it off in your calendar if you must. Wander, doodle, nap—whatever. But don’t try to make it “productive.”

3. Start a Joy Log

Write down one unexpectedly good thing each day. No pressure. No judgment. Just keep a running tally. Some days it might be “I found a fry at the bottom of the bag.” Celebrate it.

4. Move for Fun, Not Fitness

Go for a walk with zero performance goals. Stretch with your favorite playlist on. Hell, dance in your living room. Nobody’s watching (unless you invite them).

This Wasn’t a Hallmark Movie Ending. It Was Better.

I didn’t get struck by lightning and become a better person. I didn’t solve my life that day. I still had to go home, dry off, and figure out what the hell to eat for dinner. But I felt different.

Lighter.

Alive.

Unapologetically me.

And that—that—is what makes a moment your favorite. Not because it fixes everything. But because it reminds you of everything that still exists inside you.

So next time the skies open up, or the music hits just right, or your day feels entirely too heavy… consider this your nudge. Loosen your grip. Let yourself feel. Let yourself laugh. Let yourself live.

Because sometimes the rain isn’t ruining your day.

It’s rewriting it.