Today I Choose to be Exuberant – How to be Exuberant

Exuberance doesn’t come naturally to me — I’m not the one leading conga lines or shouting with glee at sporting events. But sometimes, it sneaks up when I least expect it. Like the day Curtis came home from the hospital after nearly a month. He was frail, pale, tethered to tubes — and I was beyond exhausted — but the moment I saw him in our doorway, I clapped my hands and laughed and cried all at once. It wasn’t planned. It was pure, unfiltered exuberance — the kind that spills over because your heart can’t hold it in. At this age, I don’t chase exuberance; I let it erupt when life delivers something so precious, so unlikely, it demands an over-the-top response. Exuberance isn’t about being loud — it’s about being so grateful you can’t help yourself.

That moment — Curtis shuffling through our door with his walker, down 50 pounds, wearing someone else’s sweatpants because none of his fit — my body did things without my permission. I jumped up and down (my knees protested later). I made sounds that weren’t quite words, weren’t quite sobs, weren’t quite laughter. The home health nurse looked alarmed. Curtis looked confused. But I couldn’t stop. The exuberance had taken over.

For weeks, I’d held it together. Measured responses. Controlled reactions. Appropriate hospital behavior. But seeing him HOME, in OUR space, alive and returning to me — my body exploded with joy it had been storing, waiting for this exact moment to release.

The Surprise of Midlife Exuberance

I used to think exuberance was for extroverts, children, and people who use exclamation points in every text. I’m none of those. I’m the one who responds to good news with “That’s wonderful” while internally doing cartwheels. I’m measured, controlled, appropriate.

But exuberance doesn’t care about your personality type. It ambushes you when life cracks you open with something so unexpected, so precious, that containment becomes impossible.

Like when Jesse called to say he’d finished his latest stained glass project — the one he thought was impossible. I screamed. Actually screamed. In my office. With the door open. My assistant came running, thinking I was hurt. Or when the new surgeon said he thought Curtis’ reconnection was possible and scheduled the surgery! Whoops of joy! Just exuberant. Just unable to contain the pride and joy exploding out of me.

The Physical Takeover of Exuberance

Exuberance bypasses your brain entirely. It’s your body’s coup against propriety. When it hits:

• Your hands move without permission — clapping, flapping, reaching
• Your voice abandons its normal register — squealing, shouting, making sounds you didn’t know you could make
• Your face contorts into expressions you’d be embarrassed by if you could see them
• Your whole body vibrates with energy that has to GO somewhere
• Tears and laughter merge into something unnamed

It’s overwhelming and embarrassing and absolutely glorious.

Why We Suppress Exuberance

The Dignity Trap
Somewhere around 40, we decide we need to be dignified. Composed. Adult. Exuberance seems childish, inappropriate, too much. So we tamp it down, moderate our responses, keep our cool.

But what are we saving our exuberance for? The perfect moment? The appropriate venue? By the time we’re 61, we should know — those moments don’t come with warning labels.

The Fear of Looking Foolish
I’ve spent decades curating my professional image. Competent. Reliable. Serious. Exuberance threatens all of that. What if people see me jumping around like a fool? What if they think I’m having a breakdown?

Let them think what they want. Exuberance is too rare, too precious to sacrifice for image management.

The Energy Conservation
At this age, we’re careful with energy. We budget it, save it, protect it. Exuberance seems wasteful — all that jumping and squealing and carrying on. But here’s what I’ve learned: Exuberance creates energy. It’s not a withdrawal; it’s a deposit.

The Unexpected Triggers of Exuberance

It’s never what you’d expect. Not the planned celebrations or the milestone moments. Exuberance comes from:

The Medical Miracle
“The scan is clear.” Four words, and I’m dancing in the oncologist’s office. Not gracefully. Not quietly. Full-on, arms-flailing, happy-dancing while Curtis tries to pretend he doesn’t know me.

The Unexpected Text
Tyler, my steady, logical son who communicates in single syllables, sends a paragraph about how proud he is of what I’m building with Enlightenzz. I shriek. Actually shriek. Curtis thinks I’m being murdered. Nope. Just exuberant.

The Perfect Moment
Sitting on the deck, golden hour light, Curtis laughing at something stupid on his phone, both kids healthy, bills paid, nothing hurt. The ordinariness of it hits me, and I’m suddenly whooping with joy at absolutely nothing and absolutely everything.

Exuberance vs. Happiness

Happiness is sustainable. You can be happy for hours, days, weeks. It’s a steady state, a background hum, a general condition.

Exuberance is explosive. It lasts seconds, maybe minutes. It’s too intense to sustain. Your body can’t maintain that level of expression without combusting.

Happiness is a warm bath. Exuberance is being shot out of a cannon made of joy.

I’m happy Curtis is recovering. I was exuberant when he walked through that door.

I’m happy Jesse has a career. I was exuberant when he got that impossible commission.

I’m happy with my life. I’m exuberant in tiny, explosive moments when that life reveals its magic.

The Contagion of Exuberance

Exuberance spreads. When I exploded with joy at Curtis’s homecoming, he started crying. Then laughing. Then the nurse started laughing. Within minutes, we were all ridiculous — crying, laughing, carrying on in our living room like lunatics.

When I shrieked about Jesse’s commission in my office, my assistant started jumping too. She didn’t even know what we were celebrating. Didn’t matter. Exuberance doesn’t require context.

This is the gift of exuberance — it gives others permission to feel big feelings too. In a world that asks us to moderate everything, exuberance says: “Not today. Today we feel it ALL.”

Creating Space for Exuberance

You can’t schedule exuberance, but you can create conditions where it’s more likely to appear:

Stop Pre-Editing Your Reactions
That moment between feeling and expressing — where you decide if it’s appropriate? Skip it. Let your body respond before your brain interferes.

Surround Yourself with Exuberance-Safe People
Some people make you feel foolish for big expressions. Others join in. Know the difference. Save your exuberance for those who won’t shame it.

Practice with Small Exuberances
The perfect cup of coffee. A green light when you’re late. A text from someone you miss. Let yourself overreact to small joys. It primes the pump for bigger ones.

Remember: You’re 61, Not Dead
We’re not too old for exuberance. We’re exactly the right age — old enough to know how rare joy is, young enough to express it fully.

The Vulnerability of Exuberance

Exuberance requires vulnerability. It reveals what matters to you, what moves you, what cracks your composed exterior. It’s exposing.

When I erupted over Curtis’s homecoming, I revealed how terrified I’d been. When I shrieked over Jesse’s success, I showed how invested I am in his joy. Exuberance tells your secrets.

Maybe that’s why we suppress it. Not because it’s undignified, but because it’s honest.

The Memory-Making of Exuberance

I don’t remember all my happy days. But I remember every moment of exuberance:

• Dancing in the kitchen when Curtis’ reconnection surgery was scheduled.
• Screaming in the car when Tyler got an interview.
• Jumping on the bed (and immediately regretting it, knees-wise) when Enlightenzz hit its first milestone
• That ungodly sound I made when my first Dutch pour painting actually worked

Exuberance burns itself into memory. These moments become the highlights reel of a life well-felt.

When Exuberance Feels Impossible

Some seasons, exuberance seems laughable. During the dark months of Curtis’s illness, during grief, during fear — exuberance felt like a foreign language I’d forgotten how to speak.

But then it ambushes you. In the middle of the darkness, something breaks through — a laugh, a moment of pure gratitude, a tiny victory — and suddenly you’re exuberant in the middle of hell. Those are the most powerful exuberances. The ones that insist on themselves despite everything.

Today’s Choice

Today, choose to be exuberant — even if it doesn’t come naturally. Especially if it doesn’t come naturally. Don’t wait for the perfect moment or the appropriate venue. Let life surprise you with moments worth celebrating with your whole body.

When good news comes, don’t just smile — squeal. When someone you love walks through the door, don’t just greet them — celebrate them. When something beautiful happens, don’t just appreciate it — let it overwhelm you.

At 61, after all we’ve survived, all we’ve lost, all we’ve learned — we’ve earned the right to exuberance. We know how precious the good moments are. We know how quickly they pass. We know they deserve more than measured responses.

So clap your hands. Make ridiculous sounds. Jump (carefully, knees permitting). Let your face contort with joy. Let your body override your brain. Let gratitude explode out of you in whatever messy, undignified, glorious way it wants.

Because exuberance isn’t about being loud — it’s about being so grateful you can’t help yourself. And at this stage of life, we have so much to be grateful for, even in the midst of everything else.

Let it out. Let it overflow. Let yourself be exuberant.