Before The Glimmer
Several years ago, I met with a therapist shortly after being discharged from the hospital’s mental health ward. This appointment was part of the safety plan established upon my release—a plan that felt like a daunting step into the unknown. During the session, the therapist shared several diagnoses that shook me to my core. I was in my late 30s, and hearing these words for the first time left me reeling. How could I have lived so long without understanding the struggles that had been shaping my life? Looking back, I realize this lack of awareness had led to years of numbing myself to the pain—something I’ll delve into another time.
That session, however, became a significant turning point—not because of the therapist’s suggestion, but because of the decision I made afterward. When she brought up the idea of attending a day treatment program, I interpreted her words as judgmental and condescending, as though I was being passed off to someone else who could “handle me.” Her tone lingered in my mind, sharp and cold, making me feel like a burden rather than a person in need of help. It wasn’t framed as an opportunity for healing but rather a solution for someone who was “too much.” I left feeling small, broken, and resistant.
But somewhere deep inside, a spark of courage ignited. I realized I had a choice: I could let her tone discourage me, or I could focus on the possibility that day treatment might actually help. Deciding to look into the program—and eventually enrolling—took incredible bravery. That decision became the true turning point. It was me, not her, choosing to take control of my healing and seek support in an environment that felt more suitable for where I was at the time.
When I started the program, I was required to meet with one of the therapists leading it. From the very first interaction, I was made to feel like a human—something I hadn’t felt in a long time. There were no masks, no toxic positivity, no blaming. Instead, I was met where I was: broken but welcomed, guided but never judged. For the first time in what felt like forever, I could see the faint outline of a path forward.
The Day Treatment Program
I can vividly recall the first day I attended the program. I walked into a large meeting room. Windows lined the back wall, letting in soft, natural light. Words of encouragement and posters about feelings hung on the walls. The chairs were arranged in a large circle. Other participants filed in, choosing seats and engaging in small talk. I sat alone, nervous and ready to leave the moment I arrived.
Each morning in day treatment started with a round robin of three questions, one of which was, “What’s one thing you’re thankful for?” When my turn came, my mind went blank. I wasn’t the first to answer, but each response—gratefulness for food, being in treatment—felt hollow to me. I didn’t relate. I wasn’t thankful for anything. Deep down, I felt empty, just a shell of a person sitting there.
I could have passed or repeated something generic, but that wasn’t me. I’ve always valued authenticity, and if I don’t feel it, I won’t fake it. So, when my turn came, I said, “I’m grateful for nothing.” Surprisingly, some nodded, admitting they’d felt the same way before.
I instantly felt welcomed. I was in a place where others understood me. I wasn’t judged for my non-answer. I wasn’t cast aside for speaking my truth, and it was liberating. It was at that moment that my outer shell, hardened by mental illness, began to soften. I could finally hear what others shared about the reasons behind gratitude—and I started to believe that practicing gratitude might be worth my time and effort.
Invitation To Notice With Curiosity
We are all walking unique paths through life, and I won’t pretend to know exactly where you are on yours. Maybe you’ve just been released from the hospital. Maybe you’re feeling stuck, repeating old patterns. Or maybe you’re looking for a small nudge forward. Wherever you find yourself, ask yourself this: Where are you on your gratitude journey?
Is it hard to think of even one thing to be thankful for, as it once was for me? Or are you beginning to notice glimmers of gratitude in your day-to-day life?
Here’s my invitation: Take a moment to reflect. Where are you now? No judgment. No need to act yet. Just notice with curiosity. Make a mental note—or share in the comments below if you feel comfortable.
As this blog unfolds, we’ll explore gratitude and other skills step by step. For now, let’s begin with this simple practice: just notice.
