The Fine Line Between Grateful and Full of Shit
I caught myself trying to duct-tape my feelings with gratitude the other day. Like, “Oh, you’re facing the reality of limited disposable income? Quick, distract yourself by being thankful for running water and Netflix.”
Which, yes—I’m glad my toilet flushes. But that doesn’t magically make Publix BOGO prices feel like a blessing when you’re side-eyeing the total at checkout like it’s a bad Tinder date.
Here’s the thing: gratitude is wonderful… until it turns into a hostage situation.
“Your car broke down again? Be grateful you have legs.”
“Your kid just used permanent marker on the dog? At least you have a kid!”
“You’re lonely? Be thankful you don’t have to share the remote.”
See how quick that can turn into “shut up and be grateful, bitch”? It’s like the Hallmark version of tough love, and somehow even more insulting.
Gratitude is supposed to be a perspective shift, not a silencer. It’s seasoning, not a cover-up. Imagine dumping a whole shaker of garlic salt into your sadness—congrats, you’ve made inedible grief casserole.
And don’t get me started on the “others have it worse” line. Yes, Karen, someone out there lives in a cardboard box, but that doesn’t mean I have to feel #blessed while enjoying my ramen noodles for the 3rd day in a row.
Gratitude culture is wild. You can be crying in your car, mascara running, screaming at traffic, and some influencer will pop up like: “But did you try being grateful?” Yeah, Susan, I did. I’m grateful I didn’t ram my Hyundai into the Starbucks drive-thru. Does that count?
Now, full disclosure: I don’t really engage in the “crying in the car over every idiot without a blinker” scenario anymore. I’m doing the work. Turns out not every blinker-challenged mid-life Mark deserves front-row access to my emotional system. I’m learning to respond rather than react, and it’s empowering as hell to know I can save the big feelings for the big things. I control my emotions—not some random Honda weaving across three lanes like it’s an Olympic sport.
And listen, this is definitely personal. I grew up in a house where emotions weren’t exactly encouraged. Gratitude was safe. Gratitude didn’t piss anyone off. “Be thankful for what you have.” Which translated to: “Don’t bring your messy, human feelings to the table.” So yeah, no wonder I try to bypass my lack, my anger, my longing, with a quick little “I’m grateful for coffee” bandaid.
But here’s the kicker: you can’t regulate what you refuse to feel. Gratitude doesn’t erase lack. It doesn’t cancel envy. It sure as hell doesn’t pay the damn rent. What it can do is sit alongside the mess. Like, “Yes, I’m annoyed af that I can’t just impulse buy the $40 candle at Target… and also, damn, this Goodwill blazer makes me feel like a boss.”
Because real life is both. It’s:
being grateful for your partner while fantasizing about throat-punching them when they chew too loud.
being thankful for your job and also plotting its murder every Monday.
loving your kids and simultaneously Googling “cheap boarding school” after the fourth meltdown of the day.
That’s the spectrum. Gratitude that tries to cancel the other stuff is fake as hell. Gratitude that coexists with it? That’s where the power is.
So maybe the better question isn’t “Am I grateful enough?” but “Am I being real?” Because nothing says growth like admitting: “Yes, I’m blessed, and also, Publix can still go to hell for charging $7.49 for a small cut fruit cup”
And if all else fails? Hit up Goodwill. Gratitude alone won’t fix your life, but a $7 blazer can trick the world—and sometimes even you—into believing you’ve got your shit together.
xo,
Jade