Thanksgiving has always been one of my favorite times of the year—not because of the food (though I’ll never turn down any of the yummy fare!) and not even because of the traditions, but because of the pause it invites. There’s something sacred about a collective moment where we all slow down, breathe a little deeper, and remember what matters. It’s a holiday that nudges us toward gratitude, even if only for a day.
But over the years, I’ve learned that gratitude isn’t meant to be a once‑a‑year practice. It’s meant to be lived. It’s meant to be woven into the fabric of our days, into the way we speak to ourselves, into the way we move through the world, into the way we choose to see our lives.
And I can say without hesitation: living in gratitude changed my life.
I learned this practice years ago from a mentor who is no longer with us. I’d like to take this moment to remember V.C. Garrett because she taught me how to live in gratitude. And she touched not only my life, but the lives of hundreds of people in a very profound way. I know that many of us miss her more than words can convey. My life was forever changed by her teaching me to practice gratitude. And Thanksgiving was one of her favorites too!
Gratitude doesn’t change life in the fluffy, inspirational‑poster way. Not in the “just be grateful and everything will magically get better” way. But in the real, grounded, parts‑aware way that slowly shifts the shape of your inner world until one day you look around and realize you’re living differently. You’re breathing differently. You’re choosing differently. You’re becoming someone you actually like being.
This Thanksgiving, I want to share a little of that journey—what gratitude has meant to me, how it’s reshaped my life, and why I believe it’s one of the most powerful practices we can carry with us long after the holiday season ends.
Two Heavy Years and My Return to a Practice of Gratitude
Last year and this year, I’ve experienced many challenges and a lot of heaviness. Not dramatic, not catastrophic, just heavy in that quiet, persistent way that wears you down over time.
I was running a practice, coordinating dog adoptions, fostering dogs, training my own dogs, managing a household, engaging in a marriage, navigating a major office move, showing up for clients, showing up for my team—and all the while, my protectors kept me moving while the parts of me that needed rest went unnoticed.
I didn’t realize how depleted I was until I caught myself moving through my days on autopilot. I was doing everything I needed to do, but I wasn’t in my life. I wasn’t present. I wasn’t connected. I wasn’t awake to the goodness around me.
And when you stop noticing the goodness, the hard things feel even harder. Overwhelm becomes a constant state of being.
Last month, after a couple of particularly exhausting weeks, I realized this and just… paused. I didn’t cry. I didn’t fall apart. I just sat there in my car, staring at the steering wheel, feeling the weight of everything I’d been carrying.
And then, almost without thinking, a burdened protector whispered, “I need something to change.”
Not the external pressures. Not the responsibilities.
It was my system asking for internal change — for more Self energy, more compassion, more connection.
Looking back now through an IFS lens, I can see exactly what was happening. Many of my protectors—that had been working overtime for months—finally let me feel how tired they were. Another part, the one that keeps everything running smoothly, was stretched thin. And beneath them, an exile was quietly longing for rest, connection, and breath.
From that moment came my return to my gratitude practice—not because I suddenly felt grateful, but because I realized I had stopped noticing all that was good. I had stopped letting myself feel supported, connected, or grounded. I had stopped letting myself receive.
Gratitude became the pathway back to myself.
The Smallest Things Saved Me First
People often think gratitude has to be big—life‑changing events, major blessings, dramatic shifts.
Sometimes, it is.
But the truth is, gratitude can start small. When you’re overwhelmed, you may not have the capacity to reach for the big things. You may need something simple, something accessible, something you can hold onto without effort.
So I started with the smallest things.
The warmth of my coffee cup in the morning.
The way Lucy’s ears perk when she hears her name.
The incredible attention Rowdy gives me in the Obedience ring. And when we’re driving in the car. I adore the way he looks at me.
The quietness of my living room at 4:15 am, before going to the gym.
The beauty of my new office.
The way Moo leans her whole body into me when she wants affection.
The comfort of my husband Charles’ dry humor at the end of a long day.
The feeling of my muscles supporting me during a workout.
The joy of being in eight classes at Tulsa Dog Training Club.
A Sunday afternoon win for the Steelers.
Tiny things. Ordinary things. Things I had been walking past for months without noticing.
And something interesting happened.
The more I noticed, the more there was to notice.
From an IFS perspective, I now understand that gratitude gave my protectors something they desperately needed: evidence that the system wasn’t only carrying burdens. Evidence that there was goodness, support, and nourishment available. Evidence that they weren’t alone.
Gratitude didn’t erase the hard things. It didn’t make my responsibilities disappear. It didn’t magically lighten my workload.
But it did something far more important: it shifted the way I experienced my life.
It reminded me that even in the middle of stress, there was beauty.
Even in the middle of exhaustion, there was support.
Even in the middle of overwhelm, there was joy.
Gratitude didn’t change my circumstances. It changed my lens. And it changed the way my parts related to my life.
My Return to The Practice That Changed Everything
I didn’t set out to move away from my daily gratitude practice. It happened slowly, like the proverbial “frog in boiling water.” But once I realized how much it I was missing it, I became intentional about moving back to a practice of gratitude.
Every morning, before I checked my phone or opened my laptop or stepped into the swirl of the day, I named three things I was grateful for.
Sometimes they were profound.
Sometimes they were silly.
Sometimes they were so small they barely felt worth mentioning.
But I named them anyway.
And over time, something inside me softened. My nervous system felt steadier. My mind felt clearer. My heart felt more open. I started moving through my days with a sense of groundedness I hadn’t felt much in the last couple of years.
From an IFS lens, gratitude became a way of inviting Self energy into my system—calm, curiosity, compassion, connectedness. It became a way of helping my protectors relax, even if only a little. It became a way of letting my exiles feel seen, even in tiny moments.
Gratitude became a way of orienting myself toward what was good again—not in a toxic positivity way, but in a deeply human way. It helped me remember that my life isn’t just a list of responsibilities. It is a collection of moments.
And many of those moments are beautiful.
I was reminded of this simple thing:
Gratitude is not a reaction. It’s a posture.
It’s not something you feel only when something good happens. It’s a way of living that allows you to see the good even when life is complicated, stressful, or uncertain.
It’s a way of saying, “I choose to notice what supports me.”
“I choose to notice what nourishes me.”
“I choose to notice what brings me joy.”
“I choose to notice what reminds me I’m alive.”
And when you live that way—when you choose gratitude as a daily practice—your life begins to respond.
There’s a quote I’ve loved for years, one that feels especially true now:
“She loved her life, and it loved her right back.”
I didn’t understand that quote fully until I started living in gratitude.
When you love your life—not in a perfect, everything‑is‑amazing way, but in a grounded, intentional, parts‑aware way—your life begins to love you back. It begins to show you more beauty, more connection, more meaning, more joy. It begins to reveal things you couldn’t see before. It begins to feel like a place you want to be, not just a place you’re trying to manage.
Gratitude is how you love your life.
And when you do, your life responds.
The Ripple Effect
One of the most surprising parts of this journey has been the ripple effect. Gratitude didn’t just change my inner world—it changed the way I showed up in my outer world.
I became more patient.
More present.
More compassionate.
More grounded.
More connected to my team.
More attuned to my clients.
More open with my family.
More playful with my dogs.
More generous with my time.
More intentional with my energy.
Returning to a practice of gratitude has made me softer in the places I had become more rigid and stronger in the places I had become depleted. It helped me lead with steadiness instead of urgency. It helped me make decisions from clarity instead of overwhelm. It helped me build a life that felt aligned instead of chaotic.
And the people around me felt it.
Because when Self energy increases in one person’s system, it naturally increases in the systems around them. Gratitude became a way of accessing Self, and Self became a way of relating to others with more openness, warmth, and presence.
Gratitude doesn’t just change your life. It changes the lives of the people who share it with you. I’m certain that this is why V.C. Garrett had such a profound effect in the lives of so many.
What I’m Grateful for This Thanksgiving
This year, my gratitude list feels especially full.
I’m grateful for my husband Charles, who has been my steady place for more than fifteen years.
I’m grateful for the team at Empowered Life Counseling—six other therapists and one intern, all who show up with skill, heart, and integrity, and who make our practice a place of genuine healing.
I’m grateful for the clients who trust us with their stories, their pain, their hope, and their courage.
I’m grateful for the move to South Tulsa for the practice and the new chapter it represents, even with the huge challenges we’ve faced with it.
I’m grateful for the dogs who fill my home with chaos and joy and unconditional love.
I’m grateful for Tulsa Dog Training Club and all of the great friends who love their dogs like I love mine.
I’m grateful for Boston Terrier and Short Nose Rescue of Oklahoma and the meaningful place it has in my life.
I’m grateful for the work I get to do, the community I get to serve, and the life I get to live.
And I’m grateful for the woman I’ve become—someone who no longer rushes past her own life, but who pauses long enough to notice the beauty in it.
Someone who loves her life.
And someone whose life loves her back.
A Thanksgiving Invitation
As we move into the holiday season, I want to offer you an invitation—not a challenge, not a task, not another thing to add to your list, but an invitation.
Notice one thing each day.
Just one.
One moment of goodness.
One moment of beauty.
One moment of connection.
One moment of joy.
One moment of support.
One moment that reminds you you’re alive.
Let it be small. Let it be simple. Let it be ordinary. Let it be yours.
And see what happens.
See how your parts respond.
See how your protectors soften.
See how your exiles feel seen.
See how your system shifts.
Gratitude doesn’t require perfection. It doesn’t require everything to be okay. It doesn’t require you to ignore your pain or pretend your struggles don’t exist.
It simply asks you to notice what is good.
And when you do, your life begins to open.
Your life begins to expand.
Your life begins to love you back.
This Thanksgiving, I hope you feel surrounded by warmth, connection, and meaning. I hope you find moments of joy tucked inside the ordinary. I hope you feel supported by the people who love you. And I hope you feel proud of the life you’re building—one moment of gratitude at a time.
Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
May your life love you back in ways you can feel.
