Gratitude Found in Ordinary Moments

Part 6 The Woman who Notices

Gratitude used to feel forced.

Like something you wrote in a journal because you were told it would make you happier.
Like something you were supposed to feel even when your nervous system was exhausted, and your body was just trying to get through the day.

But healing has changed the way I see gratitude.

It’s no longer about listing big things.

It’s about noticing small ones.

The ordinary ones.

The ones that don’t make it to social media.

The quiet cup of coffee before anyone else wakes up.
The way the light hits the kitchen bench in the late afternoon.
The sound of rain against the roof.
Warm water on tired muscles.
Fresh sheets.
A text that simply says, “I’m thinking of you.”

Gratitude, I’ve learned, isn’t about pretending everything is perfect.

It’s about recognising that even in the middle of hard seasons, there are moments of softness.

And those moments matter.

When you’ve lived in survival mode, your brain scans for danger.
It notices what’s wrong.
It anticipates what might go wrong.
It prepares.

That’s not weakness.

That’s protection.

But part of healing is gently teaching your brain to also notice what’s safe.

What’s steady.

What’s good.

Not in a toxic positivity way.
In a nervous-system way.

When I pause long enough to notice the warmth of the sun on my face, I’m not just being poetic.

I’m giving my body evidence.

When I sit by the ocean and let the rhythm of the waves steady my breathing, I’m not escaping.

I’m regulating.

When I take a moment to feel the ground under my feet, I’m reminding myself:
I am here.
This moment is okay.

Gratitude found in ordinary moments is powerful because it’s accessible.

You don’t need a life overhaul.
You don’t need everything to be healed.
You don’t need the perfect relationship, body, job, or bank balance.

You need awareness.

The woman I’m becoming doesn’t wait for milestones to feel grateful.

She finds it in:

• The smell of clean washing
• The quiet after a long day
• The first deep breath that actually lands
• Laughter that catches her off guard
• The feeling of showing up for herself

These are not dramatic victories.

But they are evidence of growth.

When your life has known chaos, ordinary can feel sacred.

Predictable can feel safe.

Simple can feel like peace.

And that’s something to be grateful for.

Not because everything is fixed.

But because you can finally notice it.

Gratitude, for me, is no longer a performance.

It’s presence.

It’s the choice to slow down enough to see that even in the middle of healing, there are still small, steady gifts woven through the day.

And sometimes…

That’s more than enough