What Are You Grateful For?
What Are You Grateful For?
Every so often, someone asks a simple question.
Here is one:
“What are you grateful for?”
It’s one of those questions that sounds almost too easy. We hear it in self-help books, gratitude journals, podcasts and social media posts. Sometimes it feels overused.
But for me, gratitude isn’t always easy. Sometimes it’s really tough.
But it’s vital.
It’s part of how I have stayed sober since the 5th of November 2010.
I’m not talking about pretending life is perfect. Life isn’t perfect. Mine sure as hell isn’t. There are days when my work is boring, long and exhausting. My money is always tight, and there is never enough to do the things I want. My health problems are sometimes frustrating and sometimes embarrassing. Family life with two SEN adult kids is complicated and can be like walking on eggshells, and the Mazda Bongo I blew my inheritance from my Dad on seems determined to break at exactly the wrong moment.
Gratitude doesn’t make those things disappear. Sometimes I cry my eyes out in the bath, or when everyone else is asleep, as I have to be strong the rest of the time.
It does help me to realise that all of those things are not the end of the world, and that someone, somewhere, would love to have my problems.
The Alternative
When I drank, my mind had a habit of collecting evidence that life was unfair. It’s amazing how convincing that inner voice can become when you feed it. It was my violent ex-husband’s fault. It was my troubled kid’s fault. It was my parents’ fault. It was my childhood abuser’s fault. It was the fault of all the adult men who took advantage of me as a teenager. I blamed anyone and anything, apart from myself — the one holding the vodka bottle. I drank until I had liver problems, hallucinations, constant shaking, my hair was falling out, my teeth too… and the Doctor was telling me I would not see Christmas if I carried on. The more I drank, the worse my life got. So in some ways, my mind was correct.
Gratitude interrupts that internal conversation.
I learned this in AA. While I didn’t really gel with all the higher power stuff (I’m a Pagan and they were VERY Christian), after going for a year and not picking up a drink, some of the teaching must have stuck with me.
The other bits of advice that worked were:
- “Stay out of the pub”
- “Live in today-just worry about getting to bed sober tonight, and worry about tomorrow when it is here”
- “Always have an escape planned for social occasions. And if you drive, always bring the car”
- “Nobody wants to drink after eating six Mars Bars”
Instead of asking, “Why is this happening to me?” I started asking, “What is still good today?”
The answers don’t have to be profound, deep, or mysterious.
A hot cup of black coffee.
My dog Twyla making me laugh and wiggling in the way only she can.
My partner Peter buying me sweeties at the garage on his way home from work because he knows I like Percy Pigs.
Watching Catti the cat asleep in the old broken birdbath in the front garden, with his full belly after visiting half the street’s other cats’ food bowls.
A student finally understands a difficult piece of English.
The sound of rain when I’m warm in my bed
Sometimes, that’s enough.
For the times when life feels tougher, I tell myself that I have a roof over my head; food in my belly; love in my life from a kind and gentle man whom I adore; two kids who made it to adulthood without me strangling them; the ability to read and write; the use of all of my body; Dogs exist and I live with the best one in the world.
How many people would trade places with me? Many millions, I am sure.
Plus, I saw Michael Jackson live in concert at the old Wembley Stadium when I was 12. That just about tops off the list of things that make me extremely bloody lucky.
Gratitude Doesn’t Ignore Reality
People sometimes mistake gratitude for denial and toxic positivity.
It isn’t that.
I can be worried about paying bills and still be grateful I have a roof over my head. It’s a good problem to have, but a problem nonetheless.
I can be in pain with numb legs and bleeding from my hoohah like I’m giving birth to farm machinery and still be grateful that the NHS exists.
I can have an awful day where I’m full of grief and missing my departed loved ones, and still notice the flowers growing in the garden. Sweet Williams always seems to pop up when I need a pick-me-up. They are my favourite flower, and they randomly appeared in my garden a couple of years ago, popping up in various places.
Those things don’t cancel each other out. Both can be true. I can feel like shit, but still see that I am extremely lucky in many ways.
It Changes What I Reach For
Recovery has taught me that we all reach for something.
Some people reach for food. Admittedly, I do too. Who doesn’t love a nice bit of cake or a chocolate bar?
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Some reach for shopping. I would if I had more money. So maybe I should be grateful I don’t?
Some reach for endless scrolling. My partner is a sod for it.
I used to reach for alcohol. Lots of it.
Now I try to control my behaviour and instead reach for perspective.
Gratitude gives me a pause.
It reminds me that the difficult feeling I’m having is temporary, but the damage caused by drinking again wouldn’t be.
One drink wouldn’t solve the problem that upset me.
It would simply add another one. And another one. And another one. Because I could never stop at one.
Sometimes it is just as simple as walking away from a problem, instead of letting it control my mood. Sometimes it means backing down in an argument over something silly, just to keep the peace — my peace. Sometimes it means just having a moment to think and be still.
The Small Things Matter Most
I’ve noticed that gratitude rarely arrives with a fanfare, wrapped in fancy paper and ribbons.
It’s usually hidden in ordinary moments.
Walking the dog and noticing how beautiful the trees in the forest look in the sunshine.
A robin hopping across the lawn. My mum always told me that they are our loved ones checking in on us.
Fresh bread. Especially the Rye and Spelt loaf that I discovered in Tesco two days ago.
A conversation with my partner about something funny that leaves me smiling.
A student’s confidence growing week by week.
A quiet evening at home with Twyla, my dog, just chilling in front of the TV.
Sitting in my van, on the back seat with its beautiful throw and cushions, drinking coffee while looking over the town from up a hill, on the heath.
These moments are easy to overlook because they’re ordinary.
But ordinary is exactly what I nearly lost.
Ordinary is the best.
A Different Kind of Wealth
When I stopped drinking, I thought I was giving something up. But instead, I gained so much.
Peace.
Family.
Self-respect.
Health.
Time.
And the ability to notice just how much I already have. How lucky I am.
Gratitude hasn’t removed anxiety, stress or sadness.
But it has stopped those feelings from taking over my life.
So… What Are You Grateful For?
Not the things you think you should say. But the things that really matter. That matter right now.
Maybe it’s your morning coffee.
A wagging tail attached to a scrummy beast.
Someone you love, or who loves you too.
A quiet moment in a noisy world.
The fact that you’re still here when so many are not.
Sometimes, staying sober is simply about remembering that today contains enough reasons to stay. Being grateful for those reasons.
There are always reasons to be grateful.
Be grateful.
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