The Gratitude Journal

“This is stupid. I don’t want to write about what I’m thankful for. Why do you always make me do things you like? I’m not you!” Maddison argued with her mom immediately after she had handed her a journal with ‘Gratitude’ written across the cover. Her mom was worried about her lately. Her attitude had slowly started changing along with her outlook on school and friends. She had come home from school a few days ago and called herself stupid, insisting that she had no friends and that no one liked her. For obvious reasons, she was concerned. She instantly scoured the internet for ways to help improve self-esteem, first signs of puberty and how to survive the tween years. She decided to start with the gratitude journal because it was one of the most popular suggestions and she remembered loving writing in her journal when she was young. Perhaps Maddison would, too. She hoped this would help change her thought patterns and create a good habit but lately she just felt overwhelmed by her daughter’s self defeat and unwillingness to try. 

”Please, just try it for one week. If you still think it’s stupid, I won’t push it anymore,” she pleaded. 

Maddison reluctantly agreed, but not without slamming her door first. 

Maddison walked over towards her bed. 

“What am I supposed to do with this thing? What does she want from me? What would writing down how angry and sad I am help?” Maddison asked herself as she plopped on her bed. 

“I just hate all of this, I’m not thankful for anything. Everything is hard and people are mean and there is not a single thing I could possibly be thankful for!” 

“Did I just say that last part out loud?” Maddison quietly asked herself. 

“I AM THANKFUL THAT I DON’T MEAN ANY OF THIS BUT CAN WRITE IT AND BE DONE!” She begrudgingly wrote. 

“Day one finished. This will be easy and my mom will lay off in under a week!” Maddison cunningly thought to herself. 

Day two came and went with a simple, “Nothing happened today but I’m thankful nothing did.” 

Day three, “Thankful I only have 4 days left.”

Day four was a little different. Maddison had gone to school and the girls she normally sits with at lunch decided she wasn’t “whatever” enough to sit with them that day. Maddison came home in tears. She tried to hide it from her mom but couldn’t. Her mom came up a few minutes after she threw her bag on the floor and ran to her bedroom. 

“Mad’s what’s going on? You okay?” Her mom asked as she entered the room, walking towards her bed. 

“Why are girls so mean?!” Maddison fought to say through tears and snot. 

Maddison’s mom’s heart sank. She completely understood, immediately reminding her of her adolescence. She crawled into Maddison’s bed and cuddled up with her grieving daughter. 

“I almost forgot how hard this season of life is. You know, I went through many hard times at school. May I tell you a story?” She asked her sullen daughter. 

Maddison didn’t say anything but she turned towards her mom, nodding slightly. 

“I moved here when I was a freshman in high school. No one was happy I was there. I made a few friends but most people were awful to me. They would make fun of me in the hallways, not sit with me at lunch and pull my hair in assembly. Trust me, I know what it’s like to be bullied and not know when it’s going to end or even why they’re doing it.”

Maddison started to turn her face towards her mom, wiping away the snot and tears, wanting to hear more. 

“You know what, I didn’t let them get to me. I held my head high and ignored it as best I could. Yes, it hurt, but by taking it and not giving them anything to work with allowed me to push through. When I got home, I would write my heart out. It was my only way to not hold onto the pain or have it overwhelm me. Does that make sense?” She asked her daughter. 

Maddison thought about it for a minute. She was so sad that her mom had to go through that but in a certain way it made her feel better knowing she wasn’t alone. 

“Thank you for telling me what school was like for you when you moved here. I’m really sorry that happened to you.” Maddison said compassionately to her mom. 

Leaning closer to her daughter, she brushed her hair out of her face along with one last tear that slowly fell from her eyelashes. 

“Thank you, Mad’s,” her mom said as she leaned over her and kissed her forehead. 

“You okay?” Her mom asked. 

“I am, much better,” Maddison responded. 

“We all go through it. It’s about opening up and sharing our experiences to help others know they’re not alone. These years are hard. I’m here for you and I need you to know that.”

“I do, now. Thanks, mom. I really love you,” Maddison said looking up at her mom. 

“I really love you, too, Mad’s,” her mom said as tears welled up in her eyes. 

Maddison laid in her bed and thought about everything her mom had said to her. She grabbed the journal and started her first real entry. 

A few days later, on the seventh day to be exact, Maddison’s mom entered her room to grab her laundry bin and saw the journal on top of her bed with a pen sticking out of the middle of the pages. She normally wasn’t a fan of breaking privacy agreements but after everything that had transpired the past week, she felt like it was her motherly duty to do so. She opened to the last entry. 

“I’m thankful for my mom. She is so brave. She went through a really hard time like I did and she made it though. She took the bad and made good out of it. Obviously she did, she’s teaching me how to do the same thing. I’m grateful for my mom. She is the best.”

Tears started streaming down her face. 

“I guess it really was all worth it,” she thought to herself.