Gratitude in the Everyday: Holding the Good and the Hard
Lately I’ve noticed a part of me getting a little salty—and honestly resistant—toward the pop-culture push to “just write a gratitude list” as the cure-all for mental health.
I don’t discount the power of appreciation at all. Gratitude matters. But it’s not a quick fix, and it doesn’t magically erase the harder feelings we’re carrying. For me, gratitude is about learning how to hold appreciation alongside frustration, grief, exhaustion, or disappointment.
It’s the “both/and” of motherhood.
And when I think about this, I always come back to Rick Hanson’s work on the brain’s negativity bias.
Why Our Brains Go Straight to the Hard Stuff (And Why It’s Not Your Fault)
Rick Hanson explains that our brains are wired to latch onto anything that feels stressful or threatening. It kept our ancestors alive, but today it often looks like:
replaying the hard moments
minimizing what went well
focusing on the meltdown, not the hug
feeling like we’re failing, even when we’re doing so much right
Gratitude becomes less about “thinking positively” and more about gently retraining the mind to notice the full picture. It’s like telling your brain:
“Yes, the hard stuff is real… and there was good here too.”
Not to override the hard. Just to keep your lens wide enough to see all of it.
When Parenting Feels Overwhelming: Gratitude as a Balancing Tool
I notice negativity bias most on the messy parenting days—the ones where the inner soundtrack is something like: This f-n sucks…I’m failing at motherhood. Why is this so hard?
The negativity bias shows up when my parts are hyper-focused on the problems—what’s wrong or what I need to fix about my kids/house/career instead of what’s going right.
On those days, gratitude isn’t about pretending I’m having a magical day with my kids. It’s about finding balance: the good AND the bad. The joys AND the sorrows.
Sometimes at night I pause and ask myself:
“What was one tiny win today?”
Maybe one kid made the other laugh.
Maybe I took a breath instead of snapping.
Maybe we shared a quick moment of connection.
Maybe I was a little kinder to myself.
These small things don’t erase the struggle, but they widen the frame. They remind me that I am a good mom, that my kids feel safe and loved, and that the hard parts aren’t the whole story.
Holding Hard Feelings Without Forcing Positivity
Here’s the truth: gratitude doesn’t cancel out frustration, sadness, or disappointment. True gratitude doesn’t mean we invalidate the parts of us that are carrying pain.
You can feel grateful and wish parts of the day were different.
You can appreciate your kids and need a break from them.
You can love your life and still have parts that long for something else.
And layered underneath this is one of the biggest myths of motherhood:
the myth that a “good mother” must love every part of motherhood and feel grateful for every moment.
This belief sets us up to feel ungrateful or like we’re failing when we don’t — and it’s simply not true.
Not loving every aspect of motherhood does not make you a bad mother.
It makes you human.
I tell my kids all the time:
“You’re allowed to feel upset. Let’s sit with it.”
We get to offer ourselves that same care.
Holding space for the hard doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful.
Holding space for gratitude doesn’t mean ignoring what hurts.
Both belong.
How “Both And” Creates Real Emotional Safety
When I let myself feel the full mix—frustration, gratitude, tenderness, exhaustion—I’m modeling something essential for my kids:
All feelings matter. All parts belong. None of them make us bad or wrong.
Naming what I appreciate, even on a hard day, isn’t about forcing positivity. It’s about widening the space inside so there’s room for everything. This helps my inner system relax and feel accepted, and it models to my kids that they can show up with curiosity, care, and kindness to all of their inner parts too. This builds resilience. This helps them develop what they need to navigate all the feels of this human life.
A Gentle Invitation
As you move through these next few weeks, consider this:
Can you make room for all your parts?
The frustrated ones.
The tired or lonely ones.
The ones who wish things were different.
The ones who feel grateful.
Pause before reacting. Give each part some space, attention, and care. Let it know its feelings make sense.
When we stop shaming parts to force positivity, something softens.
We reconnect with ourselves. We model resilience for our children.
And everyone—every part—feels a little safer and more understood. That’s something to be grateful for.