Today I Choose to be Grateful -How to be Grateful

It’s 5:47 AM and I’m lying in bed, doing my actual gratitude practice. Not writing lists. Not journaling. Just feeling it. Grateful for being born in the US. For being adopted by parents who wanted me. For my husband breathing next to me (even though he’s snoring). For my kids who still call. For this house. For my dog who’s about to demand breakfast in exactly thirteen minutes.

This is how I start every day. Not because a self-help book told me to. Not because it’s trendy. Because somewhere along the way, I discovered that starting with gratitude changes the entire color of the day.

But here’s the thing nobody tells you about being grateful at 61: sometimes you’re grateful for weird stuff. Like elastic waistbands. Like canceled plans. Like the mute button on Zoom calls. Like the fact that nobody expects you to understand TikTok.

The Gratitude Police Are Everywhere

Last week, my friend Linda asked about my gratitude practice. “Do you journal? Use an app? Have a gratitude jar?”

“I just… feel grateful,” I said.

She looked at me like I’d suggested performing surgery with a spoon. “But how do you track it? How do you measure your progress?”

Progress? It’s gratitude, not a CrossFit workout. I don’t need metrics for feeling thankful that my bladder made it through the night.

The gratitude industry wants to sell us journals, apps, workshops, retreats. They’ve turned a simple human feeling into a competitive sport. “I’m grateful for my challenges!” “Well, I’m grateful for my failures!” “I’m grateful for this kidney stone!”

Stop. Just stop. Sometimes a kidney stone is just a kidney stone, not a spiritual teacher in disguise.

What I’m Actually Grateful For (The Uncensored List)

Every morning, lying there in the dark, here’s what I’m really grateful for:

That I woke up. Seriously. At this age, that’s not a given.
That my husband still reaches for my hand in his sleep.
That my body, despite its complaints, still carries me through the day.
That I can afford good coffee. Not fancy coffee. Good coffee.
That my kids turned out okay despite my parenting.
That dogs exist. Just… dogs.
That cheese exists. In all its forms.
That I lived long enough to stop caring what everyone thinks.

It’s not profound. It’s not Instagram-worthy. But it’s real. And it takes about three minutes, lying there in the dark, to feel it all.

The Dark Side of Performative Gratitude

You know what I’m not grateful for? Being told to be grateful when things genuinely suck. When my mom was dying (years ago now), people kept saying, “Be grateful for the time you had.” You know what? Watching your mother forget your name isn’t a Hallmark moment. It’s hell.

Sometimes things are terrible and we need to acknowledge that. Forcing gratitude on top of genuine pain is like putting a Band-Aid on a broken leg. It doesn’t help and it might make things worse.

Real gratitude has room for both. I can be grateful for my life AND frustrated that my knees sound like Rice Krispies. I can be thankful for my family AND need to hide in the bathroom sometimes. These aren’t contradictions. They’re human.

The Small Moments Where Gratitude Lives

Being grateful isn’t a destination I arrived at. It’s something I practice, imperfectly, every day. Sometimes it’s the morning feeling in bed. Sometimes it’s a random hit of thankfulness in the middle of Trader Joe’s when I realize I can afford to buy the expensive cheese.

Yesterday, I was grateful for the pharmacy tech who pretended not to notice I was buying three different kinds of antacids. Small kindness. Huge gratitude.

Last week, grateful for the rain that canceled the outdoor event I didn’t want to attend. Nature’s own excuse generator.

This morning, grateful that my favorite jeans still fit. Barely. But they fit.

How to Practice Gratitude Without Losing Your Mind

Here’s my approach, refined over 61 years of living:

Morning Moment: Three minutes in bed, just feeling thankful. No lists. No pressure. Just feeling.

The Comparison Delete: Never compare your gratitude to others’. Your thankfulness for working knees is just as valid as someone else’s gratitude for their spiritual awakening.

The Both/And: You can be grateful AND annoyed. Grateful AND tired. Grateful AND over it. Life is complex.

The Tiny Thanks: Notice small things. The perfect temperature of your coffee. A text from your kid. The fact that you’re not in middle school anymore.

Why This Matters (And Why It Doesn’t)

Studies show gratitude improves everything – health, relationships, sleep, mood. But honestly? I don’t do it for the studies. I do it because starting the day with “thank you” feels better than starting with “oh shit.”

Some days my gratitude practice is deep and meaningful. Other days it’s “grateful I’m not dead” and back to sleep. Both count. The practice isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, even half-heartedly.

And here’s the secret: gratitude is like a muscle. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. But also like a muscle, if you overdo it, you’ll strain something.

The Permission Slip We All Need

You’re allowed to be grateful in your own way. Without journals. Without apps. Without performance. You’re allowed to be grateful for “wrong” things like wine and canceled plans and the fact that your mother-in-law lives three states away.

You’re allowed to skip days. To phone it in. To be grateful for stupid things. To refuse toxic positivity. To acknowledge when things suck while still appreciating what doesn’t.

Today’s Choice, Tomorrow’s Practice

Today I choose to be grateful. Not perfectly. Not completely. Not Instagram-worthily. Just genuinely grateful for this messy, imperfect, beautiful life.

For the morning practice that grounds me. For the husband who gets me. For kids who still need me (mostly for money, but still). For this body that creaks but carries on. For friends who laugh at my jokes. For wine. For cheese. For elastic waistbands.

For the fact that I get to choose, every day, to see the good alongside the difficult.

That’s my gratitude. Real, messy, sometimes ridiculous, always honest.

And that’s enough. More than enough.

That’s everything.