Unconventional Thanksgiving Gratitude Post

Everyone is going to write their traditional Thanksgiving gratitude posts tomorrow, expressing how thankful they are for everything going well and for the things that bring happiness and joy to their lives. Of course, I am grateful for many of those types of things in my life as well, but this post isn’t about that. This is your unconventional Thanksgiving gratitude post, and I hope it resonates with some of you.

This year, I’m grateful for the things that didn’t feel like blessings when they arrived.

I’m grateful for the people who left—because their absence forced me to step into parts of myself I had abandoned.

I’m grateful for the doors that slammed shut, the plans that fell apart, and the moments that brought me to my knees—because they pushed me into growth I never would’ve chosen but desperately needed.

I’m grateful for the boundaries I used to be terrified of setting, and for the version of me who finally whispered, “no more,” even when my voice shook.

I’m grateful for the nights I felt lost, confused, or painfully alone—because they taught me that healing isn’t a straight line, and resilience is often built in the dark.

and I’m grateful for the quiet transformations no one else saw…the rebuilding, the relearning, the unbecoming, and the becoming.

This year, I’m grateful for the things that didn’t look or feel like gratitude material at all.

I’m grateful for the moments that cracked me open—The ones that made me question everything I thought I knew about love, safety, trust, and even myself. The moments I never would’ve chosen, but that somehow chose me anyway.

I’m grateful for the days I was holding it together with shaking hands, and the nights I sat in silence trying to understand how a life can look so stable from the outside and still feel like it’s breaking on the inside.

I’m grateful for the versions of me that showed up when I wanted to disappear—the one who still made the appointments, still answered the phone, still got out of bed, still was the boss, the coworker, the friend, the mother, the one who kept going even when the weight was too much, and the path ahead was unclear.

And, to sprinkle in the traditional gratitude-  I’m also grateful for the good that threaded its way through the mess—the unexpected laughter that broke through the heaviness. The tiny moments of peace that reminded me I’m not defined by the hardest parts of my story, and the people who refused to let me walk through any of it alone.

To the ones who checked in, the ones who held space. The ones who told me the truth gently or pushed me firmly when I needed it. To the ones who didn’t need me to be “okay” to love me well.

I’m grateful for the humans who saw the parts of me I was and am still learning to see in myself, and loved me anyway. And I'm grateful for the ones who walked away—because they made room for the ones who were meant to stay.

And I’m also grateful for the fact that I’m still in it. Still learning. Still healing. Still becoming someone I’m proud to know.

This year, gratitude looks like honoring the whole spectrum— the breaking, the rebuilding, the messy middle where I currently stand, and the quiet courage it takes to keep choosing myself even while the pieces are still rearranging. Because sometimes the deepest gratitude we can hold is for the journey that is shaping us even before we’ve reached the other side. And if you’re reading this and your gratitude this year also feels complicated…if it comes wrapped in grief, exhaustion, unanswered questions, or the kind of strength you never asked to develop—I want you to know this:

You’re not behind.

You’re not broken.

You’re not alone.

There is a quiet kind of bravery in still showing up, still hoping, still healing, even with a heart that hasn’t fully stitched itself back together yet.

So here’s to us—the ones holding gratitude in one hand and the remnants of a hard year in the other. The ones learning to honor the light without pretending the shadows don’t exist. The ones still becoming, still trying, still finding reasons—small or sacred—to keep going.

This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for that. For me. For you. For all of us walking through the fire and slowly, steadily, rising anyway.

This year, gratitude looks less like a highlight reel—and more like honoring the grit it took to get here. Because sometimes the most important things to be thankful for are the things that broke you open just enough to let the light back in.