Inside The Brain

There are people who love gratitude lists. They write them in pretty journals, they feel softer afterward, they glow a little when they do it. I am not always one of those people. Most of the time, when I try to do a gratitude list, it feels forced. Like I’m trying to convince myself of something my body doesn’t fully agree with yet.

I’ve learned something over time that I didn’t expect.

Gratitude isn’t always a feeling. Sometimes a practice. A way of slowly bringing myself back into my body when everything feels heavy or loud or too much. There are days where I don’t feel grateful. I feel overwhelmed, disconnected, tired in a way sleep doesn’t fix. On those days, I still do the list anyway. Not because I feel it, but because I’m practicing coming back to myself.

At first, it looks very simple. Very basic. Things like: I’m grateful I got through today. I’m grateful my body is still here. I’m grateful for small things I can’t fully feel yet.

It’s not pretty. It’s not inspiring. It’s just repetition.
Something shifts over time.

My breathing changes. My body softens a little. The world feels slightly less sharp around the edges. I realize I’m not writing gratitude because I feel good. I’m writing it so I can eventually feel again. Gratitude, for me, isn’t the end point. It’s the bridge back to myself when I’ve gone too far out.

I still don’t always like it.

Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps me remember: I’m still here.
That’s enough to start with.