gratitude: readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness
Don’t we all aspire to be grateful? Maybe we’ve even dabbled in keeping a gratitude journal, diligently noting down five things we’re thankful for every day. Or every other day. Okay, once a week. Realistically, once a month. And then forgetting its existence for a long time only to fish it out one particularly rough day hoping it would soothe your violent heart. But no. Instead it seems forced. Your gratitude journal is one big fat lie. On one seemingly uneventful day you’d written ” I’m grateful for a quiet evening spent reading a book and sipping coffee”. But you’d spent said evening sulking at home and wishing you could go meet a friend.
Maybe you truly are grateful… but only on retrospect. The full force of it hit me now as I lay next to a sleeping D on the bed. I’m filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and moved to tears thanking the powers that be for the gift of this little squishy in our lives, for her enthu-cutlet-ness, her relentless curiosity, her sense of wonder, her overall cuteness and the boundless joy and love she brings.
Cut to a few minutes ago, though, I was a mess. I lost my cool while dealing with bedtime; I’ve never seen anyone fight sleep as much as my baby does. She was tossing and jumping about on bed, kicking me and biting while I was trying to keep calm and nurse her. And then something within me snapped and I literally yelled at D telling her she’s troubling me way too much and if she doesn’t sleep, I’ll go nuts. And I meant it. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to call my mom to help me settle D to bed, and while she slept peacefully in my mother’s arms, I broke down into tears.
I remembered just how grateful I really am for D, for my family, and felt guilty about what had just happened. I shouldn’t have yelled. She’s a baby. But at that moment, when I was battling bedtime with a fidgety baby, I was honestly not feeling grateful at all. When my mom came upstairs to help me, I wasn’t particularly thankful either. Why is this gratitude thing always an afterthought? Why is it so hard to remember to feel grateful when you are bang in the middle of that moment, no matter how happy, sad or overwhelming ? Is it just me or does anyone else have a problem with acknowledging the moment you’re in, being fully present and reacting in a way that does not make you cringe with guilt later on?
I used to jot down things I’m thankful for, as an exercise. And I noticed that it simply seemed too forced at times, especially on days when nothing significant really happened. Arbid entries like “grateful to be alive” or “thankful for a nice meal” evoke zero feelings of genuine gratitude. It’s also confusing because I don’t know whom I should be directing my gratitude to for staying alive, for instance. The Beegees? (Worst joke) Plus, there were entries that seemed to suggest I was grateful but I really wasn’t; definitely not when I was in that predicament. “Grateful for the long wait at metro station and conversations with a stranger”. That’s a lie. So not grateful at all because who likes to wait endlessly for the train after a long day at work? In retrospect though, it just seemed like something you ought to have been thankful for. It’s very tricky, this gratitude thingy; even when it’s real, it seems fake. And when you ought to be genuinely thankful for something, it’s always too late, it’s always on hindsight. If only we knew we are grateful when we are in the thick of the moment! If only we were more mindful and consistent, there’d be no need for things like gratitude journals on bedside tables. Or therapy.
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