I used to roll my eyes at gratitude practices

Not because I didn’t believe in them, but because they felt forced. Like one more thing I was supposed to do. So, I’d sit with my journal, staring at prompts that asked me to list three things I was grateful for. And I’d think, Really? This again?

But I kept showing up. Not perfectly. Not enthusiastically. Just consistently enough to notice something: even when I wasn’t writing, I was practicing gratitude. Quietly. Internally. In the way I softened toward myself. In the way I noticed beauty in the mundane. In the way I allowed discomfort to sit beside me without needing to fix it. I never expected to say it, but one day I did…