"Joy, Riley wants you."

I was not emotionally prepared for Inside Out 2.

One Sunday night in 2024, I was flicking through Disney Plus and came across it. I’d loved the original film, so I settled in expecting a feel-good final night of the weekend.

Ten minutes in, I was already sobbing on my sofa. It felt like someone had climbed inside my brain, taken notes, and turned them into a film.

If you haven’t seen it (and btw, you should), here’s the gist. Inside Out is set inside the mind of a young girl named Riley, where her emotions live as little characters in the control centre of her brain. In the first film, there’s Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust.

But then Riley grows up, as we all do, and in the second film, new emotions arrive: Anxiety, Envy, Ennui, and Embarrassment.

And Anxiety quickly decides that at this stage of Riley’s life, she’s more useful than Joy, so she pushes Joy out.

The whole film is essentially Joy fighting her way back in.

And I think that’s what got me. Because somewhere along the journey from child to woman, a lot of us quietly stop letting Joy run the show.

There’s a moment in the film where we see Riley’s Sense of Self for the first time. A glowing structure built from all her memories, experiences, and what she’s come to believe about herself. And you hear Riley’s voice saying: “I’m a good person. I’m a good friend.” Simple, clean beliefs about who she is.

I sat there wondering when I’d last heard my own voice say something like that. Because somewhere along the way, the thoughts became:

“I’m a good person, but I could be better.”

“I’m a good friend, but I’ve been distracted lately.”

“I’m doing okay, but I should be further along by now.”

And that’s the thing about Anxiety. She doesn’t lie to you exactly. She just adds the small print until the original statement is buried.

There’s another moment where Anxiety has Riley’s imagination workers projecting every possible worst-case scenario into her mind, genuinely believing she is protecting Riley by preparing her for the future.

This was the first time I’d actually seen Anxiety in this way: meaning well, trying to keep me safe. Weirdly, it made me feel softer towards her.

But at some point, the protection becomes the problem. We’re so busy being managed and cautioned and prepared for every possible disaster that Joy can’t get a look in.

Anxiety said something that stopped me in my tracks: “I’m doing this for you. This is all so Riley can be happier.”

And Joy fires back: “If you wanted her to be happy, then you’d stop hurting her!”

You better believe I rewound it, watched the scene again, and cried again. Because I suddenly saw how much of my life had been run by fear disguised as protection.

The overthinking.

The worst-case scenarios.

The staying safe.

The trying to make sensible decisions.

And somewhere in all of that, I think I stopped hearing Joy altogether.

Watching the film, I found myself asking a question I hadn’t really asked before:

What if Joy got a say?

Not instead of fear. Not instead of anxiety. They’re there for a reason. But alongside them.

What would Joy do?

Then there’s this beautiful scene where Joy fights back in the only way she knows how. She turns to the imagination workers and tells them to stop showing Riley everything that could go wrong and instead show her what could go right. The good things. The possibility. The joy.

Cue absolute chaos, a giant pillow fight, and Anxiety’s control system falling apart.

Iconic.

But there are moments in the film when even Joy nearly gives up. Exhausted and locked out, she says quietly: “Maybe that’s what happens when you grow up. You feel less Joy.”

Honestly, Joy deserves a better PR team.

Because somewhere along the way, so many of us seem to absorb the idea that growing up means becoming more sensible, more practical, more responsible. And somehow, less joyful.

What a thing to absorb without ever being told directly.

But the moment that completely broke me comes near the end.

Riley has a full-on panic attack. Everything has unravelled and the emotions don’t know what to do.

Joy turns and wraps herself around Riley’s Sense of Self, and one by one, all the emotions join her, holding Riley from the inside.

Then, as Riley’s panic starts to settle, tiny glowing drops of light begin floating toward Joy. Sadness turns and says: “Joy, Riley wants you.”

Gone. Absolutely gone.

Because I think that’s the whole point. Even with Anxiety screaming the loudest, Riley consciously chose Joy. Not because life was perfect. Not because fear disappeared. But because Joy deserved a say too.

And maybe that’s what this whole thing is about. Maybe joy isn’t just something we accidentally stumble into on particularly good days. Maybe joy is something we can choose, again and again. Even when life feels messy – especially then.

I guess that’s the origin story of WWJD: What Would Joy Do? Not a strategy. Not a business idea. Not an attempt to fill a gap in the market. Just a film I watched alone that somehow spoke the truth, simply and clearly, straight to my soul.

I’d already quietly started what I was calling my Joy journey: the slow (slightly terrifying) process of asking myself what I actually wanted, rather than what made sense or what was expected.

But Inside Out 2 gave me something I didn’t have before.

A question.

A framework.

A character to root for.

Now, when Anxiety shows up loud and insistent and projecting worst-case scenarios onto every available surface, I try to remember that she means well. And then I ask Joy to go start a pillow fight.

Ridiculous? Perhaps. But it’s genuinely changed my life.

We don’t need to silence the other voices; they’re all there for a reason.

We just need to let Joy be louder.

Tell her we want her.

Let her back in.