Thankful Anyway

“Giving thanks” is heard, written, and displayed everywhere around this time of year. We all know November is a time for giving thanks for family, friends, loved ones, homes, schools, opportunities, and anything else one might be thankful for. But what does giving thanks look like on a regular basis? What does it look like in the midst of despair and tragedy? We talk about giving thanks when things are good, but what about when they’re bad? What about when there is heartbreak all around?

As I write this, my city is enshrouded in smoke, an ominous and constant reminder of the raging fire burning 150 miles north. The air quality in Berkeley is unsafe and the sun is constantly red, shining an eerie orange light on everything. People are being displaced, entire communities are being destroyed. Similar fires are also consuming a city 350 miles south of here in a community that already faced great tragedy less than 24 hours’ prior due to a devastating shooting. People I love have lost friends, loved ones, houses, and schools. People I love are hurting. I am hurting.

So where is thankfulness found in all of that? Where is thankfulness found amidst great pain? Where can we look for the good in the ugly?

I tend to focus on all the things that are going wrong, which makes it so easy to feel immense anger toward the chaos all around. I have a difficult time staying positive and an even harder time when people tell me to stay positive. The thought of positivity almost feels insulting and I resent when people tell me to “look on the bright side;” I feel that this sentiment invalidates the turmoil that myself and/or many others are experiencing.

But that’s not true.

Being thankful for what is good does not mean ignoring or diminishing what is not good. Being thankful for what is good means recognizing that even in the thick of distress, devastation, or grief, hope is not lost. It means acknowledging that what is bad is really bad but also that what is bad is not everything.   

So, this season, I choose to be thankful for the people who have come around me and carried me through heartbreak so many times. I choose to be thankful for the people being met with great resistance, but fighting for justice and tolerance anyway. I choose to be thankful that I am surrounded by strong, powerful women who remind me that all the bad things in the world cannot undermine my strength.

I choose to be thankful for the small things too, like the way the sunlight on my house looks during my favorite time of day. I am thankful for pasta with butter sage sauce. I am thankful for ballpoint pens that write smoothly, and for the mint tea I drink before bed. I am thankful for music and for late night drives around the city.

None of that lessens the weight or reduces the magnitude of all that is going on in my city, state, and world right now; all it does is remind me that sorrow is not the only thing that I know.

Thankfulness is not a seasonal notion. It is not a “limited time only!” item like Pumpkin Spice Lattes or peppermint candy. Thankfulness is a framework that should transcend the month of November and exist in the midst of anger, brokenness, grief, and sorrow. There will always be reasons to focus on the constant chaos in our lives. There will always be reasons to not be thankful.

I am going to choose thankfulness anyway.

By Bella Townsend

UC Berkeley student, poetry enthusiast and firm believer in Taco Tuesday