Pain and Gratitude Can Coexist

Sit with the hard stuff, positivity can wait.

I recently finished a 7-Day Gratitude Series. I’d always heard that practicing gratitude could shift your mood, help you focus on the good things, and set a better tone for your day. I’d been curious about it for a while, but recently, I felt really influenced to give it a try. There was this energy around it that pulled me in, like it was the reset I needed. I was excited, honestly. I wanted to see if it would help me feel lighter, more grounded. And in some ways, it did! But now, looking back on it, I’m realizing that gratitude doesn’t make the hard stuff disappear.

We live in a world where we’re constantly told to “just be positive,” to “look on the bright side.” And while I see the value in gratitude (I’ve felt it firsthand) there’s a line we cross when we use it to bypass the full scope of our emotions. It’s like we’ve been conditioned to believe that we can’t be grateful and struggling at the same time. But why? Why is it that acknowledging our blessings seems to come at the cost of feeling our pain?

Recently, I went through something hurtful. And when I finally opened up to a friend about it, hoping to just talk about what I was going through, they immediately shifted the conversation to, “Well, at least it’s not worse,” or “Look at it this way…” I know they meant well, but it felt like I was being rushed past my pain, as if I wasn’t even allowed to sit in it for a moment. And after coming off that gratitude series, I couldn’t help but feel conflicted.

Yes, I am grateful. I’ve been actively reminding myself of the good things in my life every day. I know how fortunate I am, and I don’t take that for granted. But that doesn’t mean what I’m going through doesn’t matter. It doesn’t mean my pain isn’t real. I can be grateful for my blessings and still be hurting at the same time. Those two things don’t cancel each other out.

I think about how often we use gratitude as a way to silence ourselves or others. When I made that list each day, I felt the pressure to focus only on the positive, to ignore the other feelings that were bubbling just below the surface. And I kept wondering, Why can’t I acknowledge both? Why can’t I be thankful for my blessings and still admit that what I’m dealing with right now is hard?

There’s this false idea that if we focus enough on the good, the bad will somehow disappear. But that’s not how it works. Pain doesn’t just go away because we count our blessings. It still lingers, still shapes us. And if we don’t let ourselves feel it, if we rush to positivity too quickly, we’re only doing ourselves more harm in the long run.

The pressure to stay positive, especially as a Black woman, feels like an unspoken rule sometimes. We’re expected to be resilient, to carry our burdens with grace, and to never complain because, after all, we’ve survived worse, right? But I’m tired of that narrative. I’m tired of pretending that I’m always strong just because that’s what the world expects of me.

What if I don’t want to be strong right now? What if I just want to admit that this hurts, that I’m struggling, that I don’t feel like “looking on the bright side” today?

Coming out of this gratitude practice has shown me that the two, gratitude and pain, can and should coexist. It doesn’t have to be one or the other. I can be thankful for my health, my home, my loved ones, and still feel the weight of what I’m carrying. One doesn’t invalidate the other.

But we’ve been taught that admitting to pain, to struggle, to vulnerability, somehow makes us weak. Like we’re failing ourselves or others by not always having it together. And so, we keep smiling, keep pushing forward, keep telling ourselves to be grateful and move on. But what happens to the parts of ourselves that need more time to heal? What happens when we don’t allow ourselves to fully feel what we’re going through because we’ve convinced ourselves that gratitude is the only acceptable response?

I’ve spent too long trying to balance this act. Telling myself to focus on the good while quietly stuffing the hard parts down. But I’m done with that. I’m learning that true strength isn’t about rushing through the hard stuff to get to the silver lining. It’s about sitting with the pain when it comes, acknowledging it without rushing to fix it or explain it away with gratitude.

I’ve always thought strength meant keeping it all together, not letting anyone see the imperfections. But I’m starting to realize that real strength is letting myself break when I need to, letting myself feel the full weight of my experiences without constantly looking for the bright side. It’s knowing that I’m allowed to have hard days, dark moments, without having to justify my pain by comparing it to someone else’s struggle.

That’s what I needed when I reached out to my friend. I didn’t need them to remind me of how lucky I am or how things could be worse. I just needed someone to sit with me in that moment, to say, “I hear you. What you’re feeling is valid.” Because… pain is pain. There’s no hierarchy. What might seem small to one person could be monumental to another. And it’s not our place to decide whose pain is worth feeling.

So, I’m learning I can be both grateful and hurting at the same time. I don’t have to choose. I can make my gratitude list, reflect on all the things I’m thankful for, and still honor the parts of me that need time and space to heal. I’m learning to give myself permission to feel everything, even the hard, uncomfortable emotions that don’t have a place on a gratitude list.

If there’s one thing I want to carry forward from this, it’s that I don’t owe anyone my constant positivity. I don’t have to pretend I’m okay when I’m not, just to make the world more comfortable. My pain is valid, my feelings are valid, and I’m allowed to take up space with them. And you are, too.

I’m still grateful. Deeply, incredibly grateful. But I’m also still healing. And that’s okay. I don’t have to rush to the light just because someone tells me to. I’ll get there when I’m ready. On my own terms. And when I do, I’ll know that it’s because I’ve honored my pain, not ignored it.

Because real strength isn’t about “just being positive.” Real strength is allowing yourself the freedom to feel everything.

Now, let me happily go weep in the shower.