Let's talk about micro-joys and why you need them in your life

As life gets busier we might not be able to rely on big stretches of 'me time' but what if I told you there was another way to sustain yourself?

Did you know that people micro-dose psychedelic drugs? The idea is that you take one tenth of a dose to ‘sharpen the senses’ without sending you over the edge.

I just cackled over my tea while writing this because what if everybody knows this? What if this is a really commonplace piece of information I've somehow missed?

I heard this from a friend, because one thing you might not know (although you could probably hazard a guess because of everything about me) is that I've never taken drugs. And, I don’t mean I’ve never taken them on a regular basis. I mean I've never taken them.

While I don't understand it in the literal sense, the premise of micro-dosing interests me. No, I'm not going to become a magic mushroom convert, but what if we could micro-dose other areas of our lives? Contentment, for example.

I'm 33 now, and I've had two children since I turned 30. While my life is fuller in a lot of other areas, it's no secret that time for myself has taken a nosedive off a cliff. That's why I've started looking for micro-joys; little moments of pleasure in every day life.

For most of us, our 30s represent an intense period of change and busyness. While the sustained period of contentment I used to get from sitting in a coffee shop reading a book isn't realistic right now, micro-joys definitely are.

We're always on the pursuit of something. The promotion, the bigger house, the followers. If you're anything like me, when you reach that milestone, you'll create a new one almost instantly, barely taking a breath to let your achievement sink in.

Those highs feel great, but wouldn't we feel more sustained by micro-doses of contentment that happen everyday? I decided six weeks ago that I needed to find out.

I was sitting in the garden, my baby asleep in my arms, my toddler playing in the sunshine and the smell of chargrilled chicken weaving its way out of the kitchen where my husband was cooking. I experienced something akin to a micro-dose of joy. It's not life-changing, but enough of these little feelings spattered throughout my week could certainly make me feel good.

On my journey of discovery, I came across an article by Ellen Scott in Stylist entitled What are glimmers and how can they benefit our mental health?, I realised this feeling has a name; a glimmer. Coined by social worker, Deb Dana, as an opposite to a trigger, this word has been doing the rounds on social media recently without me noticing.

There's a reason that the smell of freshly cut grass is most people's favourite smell. It represents so much more than a smell; it's a feeling brought on by the smell.

Your micro-dose might make you feel content, or safe, or nostalgic, or calm. It might only last for a second, but when you know, you know. It's as if everything in your world has just fallen into perfect alignment for a brief moment in time.

And guess what? The more you pay attention to them, the more often they happen.

I started with a journal. Yes, journaling is probably a cliched place to start on my journey of self-discovery, but I can confirm, it’s working.

Each day I write down what I'm grateful for. There have been a few days over the past few weeks that have been utterly dreadful; like the day we put my beautiful dog to sleep. But, even in those days - days that will go down in history as being properly rubbish - I found moments.

This has also helped me in ways I didn't expect, because I've uncovered themes. When I'm not rushing, for example, I'm a lot happier and micro-doses of joy are a lot easier to find.

And because of this realisation, I’ve started writing a non-negotiable list.

I was in the car with my friend the other day. We'd been to visit another friend in Kent and then we sat in traffic for almost two hours because I stupidly said yes to a plan that involved the M25 on a Friday. My then four-month-old was screaming. SCREAMING, I tell you.

And in this space, my non-negotiable list was born. This list represents the antithesis of joy. The points on this list are guaranteed to suck any chance of a micro-joy moment right out of me. The first item on this list? Never commit to a plan that involves the M25 on a Friday afternoon.

Let's move onto some of the things that do bring me joy, starting with taking photos for myself.

Somehow, somewhere along the line I've started taking photos for social media. 'No, no, look at my face', 'no, don't show Isaac's face in that photo', 'move it to the side a bit so you can see the view a bit more'.

I stopped doing this on holiday and the photos are, quite frankly, shocking, but it's also fairly liberating. We never used to get attempt after attempt at a photo when we all walked around with film cameras.

We blink at the wrong times, we never look good at the same time. We have lines and wrinkles and always want to lose weight or grow our hair. I wish I wasn't so bloody pale.

Giving up on this quest for the 'perfect photo' has led to the most perfect photo. It's of me and my son cuddling on the sun lounger, our faces bound together by a mixture of sun lotion and sweat, our eyes squinting in the sunshine. It's so perfectly imperfect and that my friends, is a micro-joy.

And, speaking of sunshine, micro-joys are easier to come by in nature. In the past six weeks, my most intense feelings of joy have come from being outside. I'm not telling you anything we haven't been told time and time again, but nature is healing. The pure joy I got from laying some grass seeds and seeing the grass grow is - well - borderline weird. Our brains are funny little things.

Ultimately, what I realised from the grass seed euphoria was that simplicity is a key factor in achieving micro-joys. I've been watching Live to 100: Secrets of the Blue Zones on Netflix and one key finding from author Dan Buettner's research is that people with simpler lives seem to live longer. Spending time in the garden, growing things, cooking, reading, being present; they don't just feel good in the moment. They sustain your micro-joys way beyond those micro-seconds.

When I spend time gardening or take some time out to read a book I find myself feeling a lot more motivated, too. My brain feels emptier to soak up new ideas, I feel more present in other areas of my life. The second-time-parent fog lifts when I strip everything back to basics.

Both being in nature and shedding my layers to a more simpler version of myself have been the two main driving forces of micro-joys for me. Not only do they produce a higher concentration of that feeling, but they last far beyond that moment.

My six week micro-joy project has come to an end for the sake of this article, but I'm going to carry on. My takeaway? You've got to leave space to appreciate this feeling. If your brain is full to capacity from the moment you wake up until the moment you go to sleep, finding little moments of joy will not come easily.

I've managed that by trying to make smarter choices. I don't always choose the pile building up in the kitchen sink when I have a moment to myself. Sometimes I just take that moment. It might seem like a luxury when life is exceptionally busy, but I think you'll find it lifts some of the fog, particularly as we go into autumn.