By Deborah Blackwell

It all shocked me. From the planning to the afterglow, I couldn’t believe most of it. I didn’t even know if I could do it after years of immeasurable strain and drain. But I did. And not only did I do it, but this trip to Disney indisputably changed my life.

Just days after my mother died — after twelve years of her long, exhaustive, dramatic, and traumatic health problems — my sons, Sir Husband, and I booked a week-long trip to Disney. While we didn’t see it coming, and nope, it’s not a cheap trip, we realized, wow, we had earned it.

I love Disney. It really is the happiest place on earth. Utopian, even. The whole outside world drops away as soon as you walk through the gate. There’s an overwhelming, immersive sense of magic in the air (across all 25,000 acres). There’s breathtaking, ambient beauty everywhere you turn. The castle. The sphere. The scenery. The colors. The characters. The sweet aromas. The music. How the parks light up at night, like something from a fantasy. The mind-blowing rides. The iconic food. The enchantment. The nostalgia. And get this — people are kind. Not just Disney staff (cast members), but regular people. This isn’t your parents’ Disney World. It’s a magical bubble of joy.

But in all the times I’ve been to Disney, it had never changed my life, until now. This trip hit me deep down and brought me back to a place I had forgotten. Joy is embedded in our wiring, but it’s so easy to let it go or leave it behind in our daily lives as we trudge through, facing whatever problems we may have. The outside world has a way of hammering away at our joy, depleting our reservoir, and zapping our resilience. Experiencing something this happy, joyful, and magical was a rare occurrence in my everyday life, which, from a very young age, was built on survival.

My mother, in Disney-speak, was a villain. I don’t know what happened before my sister died when I was three, but after that, all I remember is being on the receiving end of my mother’s rage until the day she died. As an adult, I went from that house of pain to other houses of pain, laden with problems that needed to be dealt with. I felt pretty beaten up. Then I married Sir Husband, which brought unparalleled joy. Guess what. His ex was a villain, too — like one from a blockbuster movie. Then I got Long COVID.

I’ve really needed to heal.

For most of my life, I’ve been the one to ensure everyone else’s needs were met. Making happiness a guarantee for everyone around me was my mission. I did my best to fix whatever needed fixing, carry the weight and burdens, and be sure they were satisfied. This mission felt mandatory.

But this trip felt mandatory, too. My nervous system was shot. I needed something joyful. Something that felt familiar, safe, and guaranteed to bring happiness.

Either you believe Disney is the happiest place on earth, or you don’t. I know plenty of people who don’t. Even Sir Husband was a nonbeliever. He went once as a kid and once as a young dad, and neither visit left its mark. This time, though, his happiness quotient soared. So did our kids’. We had the. best. time.

Disney has a way of doing that. For the first time in what felt like forever, I was jolted into joy. High performing fell away. Obligation disappeared. Caregiving, meeting needs, searching, trying, fighting, pushing, winning, fixing, have-to-ing, it all vanished. And it became so clear: I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to compete, or perform, or prove, or fix.

Wait, I think *I* matter.

The death of a parent can change your perspective on life, but sometimes it also takes some magic. Disney, for me, was an awakening to, and a reminder of “This is what joy feels like!” and “I can actually feel good!” So now I want to be part of that daily vibe. I’m ready for something joyful. Energizing. Something that is authentic and isn’t pressure, urgency, and struggle. I want to build a new life filled with that rediscovered magic. I’m on a mission for simple, steady, satisfying joy.

Even the thought of uprooting our lives, moving away from the kids and home as we know it, and working at Disney was never in my wildest dreams. Will we do it? I don’t know. But, like the glass slipper, it’s OK to try something on to see if it fits. To lean in and explore. Exploring isn’t committing; it’s an opening to the possibilities of what’s ahead on the path, wherever that path may lead. In the words of Winnie the Pooh, “Life is a journey to be experienced, not a problem to be solved.” Gosh, how quickly we forget.

Have a magical day.