I Forgot to Be Thankful

Ah, Thanksgiving. I've said it before and I'll say it again--I don't believe thankfulness and gratitude are things to practice one day a year. This year, though, I was given cause to stop and think - really think - on what I'm forgetting to be thankful for this year. That's a tall order, considering most days I feel like gratitude is all that keeps me from losing my way. Having spent all of my adult years on the verge of (or in) poverty after enjoying a youth built by the 1%, I can attest to the fact that the less you have, the more grateful you become for it.

Sometimes, though, even living in a perpetual state of gratitude isn't enough. It doesn't make us any more aware of what we're forgetting. So when the reminder showed up unexpectedly, I balked. Of course I'm thankful for what I have. For my loved ones. For the opportunities I've been allowed at the hands and generosity of others. Of course I am. Those things are never out of my mind or my heart. In fact, they're kind of in my face every moment of every day, whether I want them to be or not! But when I separated out the resentment, I found something else hiding beneath it. That it happened right before Thanksgiving is a coincidence (if you believe in such things) only.

So this year, I'm not going to tell you what I'm thankful for today. I'm going to tell you about the things I forgot to be thankful for all year long.

I forgot to be thankful for my resilience. That no matter what life throws at me, I take a breath and dive in. Sometimes, when life throws a seemingly endless barrage of storms at us, it's hard to remember that we're weathering them. This has been one of those years. But I forgot to be thankful for all the times I've picked myself up in the past, all the times I've offered an umbrella; all those things that became a resilience that may stretch thin, but never breaks. All those troubles gave me strength, which in turn allowed me to do what I needed to do this year.

I forgot to be grateful for my downtime. Instead of beating myself up for being lazy, for missing all my writing goals and not filling out enough job applications, I should have jumped straight on into my great project of the year. The one that has nothing to do with productivity or words written or money made. The only reason I could do what I've been doing for myself this year, to make me healthier and happier in the long-run, is because I didn't have to focus on a job, or on writing.

I forgot to be thankful for my heart. I always thought it was the reason I accrued so much baggage that I had to take this year off from life to sort through it. Turns out, it didn't deserve the blame. It wasn't my heart, it wasn't my head. Much of it wasn't my fault at all. I worry a lot that I feel too much and overwhelm others too easily. I should, instead, be thankful for being given my mother's tenet to love without conditions, my father's ability to give without reservation, and my grandfather's example to be the rock in the storm. Those are so much the core of who I am, and I should be proud of them.

Those are the things I should have been thankful for this year. The things I forgot to see, or pushed away because they felt too selfish. I will be thankful for them tomorrow.

Today (okay, I guess I lied about not mentioning them), I'm thankful for friends who surprise me; relationships that age and change and yet stay exactly the same; silly siblings; memories; and my grandma's mashed potatoes (which I am always for on Thanksgiving, and for which I will stop being grateful in a week when the scale forgets which way it's supposed to move).

But most of all, I'm deeply thankful for my great project. The one thing I've held onto all year is how proud I am that I reached a place where I could face it and grow stronger. It's been weird and scary and heart-crushing and eye-opening and painful, and I haven't enjoyed it one bit. But I am thankful that I am strong enough and peaceful enough to face it, and that I found the courage to begin.