"What if I'm not grateful this year?"

and other things we don't put on blast

What if we’re having a tough time being grateful this year?

What if that empty seat, those empty seats at the table, remind us of what we’ve lost this year or in years past?

What if the messages of gratitude and smiling families in matching sweaters and glittering tablescapes is too much.

What if you want to close your inbox, turn off your phone, and delete the social media apps for good because you don’t want to be reminded of what you wish you had? What you hope for? What feels like decades of longing and ache?

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Though some wise words say that we are to be grateful in all circumstances, in all things, it can be tough to follow this guidance.¹

With our minds, we might know this to be true: Gratitude shifts perspective, keeps us focused, and helps us stay “right-sized.”

But, what is also true is that gratitude (when life is hard) can feel like someone is sucking our hearts out with a vacuum cleaner.

Photo by averie woodard on Unsplash

A couple of weeks ago, I met a woman who lost all three of her young adult sons to a Fentanyl overdose in three years’ time.

Three sons. All of them.

[yes, you just read that right. Please take a moment and let the gravity of that sink in]

Another person I know is struggling with their past self and choices, including selling their body to maintain their substance use habit and take care of their kids. At the time they made those choices, they didn’t see another way.

Someone else I spoke with is trying to stay sober and committed to life change, but they have nowhere to go after they leave treatment. Their small town doesn’t have a recovery home for women.

A dear friend’s child just got a diagnosis that will change their family and their child from the moment they heard the news in the doctor’s office.

It all happened so fast echoes, upends, changes life in an instant.

[the list could go on and likely you have your own stories to add here, too]

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While much of what we are seeing this week is shiny, happy, and saturated with thanks—it’s important to remember that it’s okay if gratitude feels impossible.

It’s okay to admit that you don’t can’t shouldn’t won’t be grateful this year.

That you are angry, sad, lonely, anxious, overwhelmed, depressed, destroyed by grief.

Friends, can I share a message with you today that you might not be seeing enough of this week?

We can be real about how we are doing. We can let each other into the days that are too much for us to bear.

When gratitude feels like an ocean away, it is okay to feel this way. It’s okay to share it too.

We can have a challenging time feeling thankful—and still be thankful.

The woman I met whose sons will not be around the table for Thanksgiving this year had tears in her eyes as she held both of my hands in hers and told me how grateful she was for me that I found recovery.

“It makes me so happy when I meet people like you.”

When we encounter troubles, trauma, and hardships, we can be certain of this: We are not alone. On the one hand, there is the trauma; on the other hand, well, something else can be born from the pain.

Just as recovery is a journey and not a destination, gratitude is a practice. It is a muscle we can build. Regardless of our circumstances or heartaches.

Today, it might be something small and simple like the way a leaf falls or the way your neighbor smiles or the taste of that seltzer on your tongue.

It can also be bigger, as big as that ocean of hardship once was. It can span the galaxies and generations. It can spread across tables of food and fellowship and laughter, and it can also exist in quiet tears among strangers. Holding hands in a parking lot. Sharing a moment of both grief and gratitude.

Photo by Jake Weirick on Unsplash

Thanks for the pic, Amanda.

What are you grateful for this season—and what are you not wanting to put on blast about the season you are in? Share in the comments (if you are feeling bold) or send me a direct message. I’d love to hear from you.

1. 1 Thessalonians 5:18