I didn’t know how ungrateful I was. I would hear this “be grateful” mandate and list things I was grateful for, then look at the list and conclude that I’m a terrible person. For not being happy when I have so much. For not treating people with the gratitude I supposedly had for them.

You can’t be truly grateful for others when you’re spending so much time berating yourself. People try to get this across by saying “you have to love yourself first” and “you can’t give from an empty vessel”.

I don’t believe in the “love yourself first” idea. However, I used the fact that it’s unbiblical as a shield, to hide from what would confront an attitude I had grown quite comfortable with: self-hatred.

For too much of my life, if I wasn’t actively hating myself I was simply tolerating my loathsome self without argument.

I’ve slipped back into that lately. But it’s not as bad as it used to be, and I don’t feel like it’s going to be this way forever anymore.

When my second beautiful boy was born, I think it was the first time I actually accepted help without cursing myself for needing it. And when I stopped beating myself up, something amazing happened: I actually felt good letting my husband put away the clean clothes and I felt blessed when my mom offered to watch kids so I could nap.

For those who can’t comprehend what I’m talking about and believe I’m simply an ingrate for not being born happy to be helped, this post is not for you.

But for those people like me, there is hope. Things can change. You don’t have to be stuck in the negative feedback loop you’ve resigned yourself to. Hating yourself, whether actively or passively, keeps you from being truly grateful.

What better time to lay down a hindrance to our gratitude than Thanksgiving?