It’s funny how easy it is to overlook thankfulness until November rolls around and then we collectively remembers it matters. But this year, gratitude feels less like a seasonal theme and more like a grounding force — something that’s kept me steady as I stepped into new chapters, new risks, and a new kind of vulnerability.
2025 has been a year of building, experimenting, stumbling, getting back up, and learning who my people really are. And when I think about what I’m most thankful for, the answer is simple:
I’m thankful for the support that carried me, encouraged me, and reminded me why this work matters.
Not everyone gets that.
In fact, the more time I’ve spent writing, podcasting, and building The Mental Lens, the more stories I’ve heard from first-time creators who faced something very different: doubt, criticism, even mockery for daring to try something new. It’s heartbreaking to think about how many quiet dreams never made it off the ground because they weren’t met with encouragement.
But that kind of reaction says more about the world we live in than the people who dared to create in it. And it’s exactly why support — real, human, unconditional support — feels like something worth pausing for this Thanksgiving.
The People Who’ve Carried Me This Year
I’m thankful for my wife, my anchor in the chaos, who backed this journey from the moment it was a half-formed idea and never once made me feel foolish for wanting more. Her support didn’t just give me space to create; it gave me the courage to keep trying on the hard days.
I’m thankful for my boys, who keep me grounded in the most unexpectedly beautiful ways. Kids don’t care about book rankings or analytics dashboards. They care about presence. They care about connection. They remind me that the most important parts of life can’t be quantified or optimized. They’re lived.
I’m thankful for the people who’ve reached out: colleagues, friends, and even strangers, to say a piece of writing resonated or helped them feel seen. Every message feels like a quiet reminder that sharing your story matters more than you think it does.
And I’m especially thankful for the kindness I’ve felt from coworkers this year. A couple of them went completely above and beyond, promoting my book internally, sending emails to their divisions, and even posting heartfelt reviews on our company platform. One colleague wrote that Still Human should be “mandatory reading” for anyone touching AI — which, at this point, is practically everyone.
I didn’t expect that kind of support.
But it’s the kind of thing that sticks with you.
The kind of thing you carry forward.
Thankfulness as a Mental Health Practice
Thankfulness isn’t just a warm, seasonal sentiment, it’s a mental health tool. A grounding mechanism. A reminder to look for what’s going right in a world that makes it too easy to focus on what’s not.
This year taught me that gratitude doesn’t always show up as big, dramatic moments. More often, it looks like:
- The text message from a friend checking in.
- The partner who gives you space to create.
- The colleague who shares your work when they didn’t have to.
- The stranger who sends a note saying, “I felt this.”
When we recognize these moments — really recognize them — our nervous system relaxes. Our worries shrink just a little. Our sense of loneliness softens. Gratitude reminds us that we’re not doing life alone, even when it feels heavy.
A Gentle Challenge for Thanksgiving Week
As you move through this week: the cooking, the traveling, the family dynamics, the chaos and warmth of it all — I want to offer a simple invitation:
Take five minutes to reflect on your year and name three people or moments you’re thankful for.
Not the obvious ones. Not the ones that sound good in a holiday card.
The real ones. The small ones. The easily missed ones.
And if you feel up for it:
Tell one person that you’re thankful for them.
Send a quick message.
A short email.
A simple “hey, just wanted you to know.”
If this year has taught me anything, it’s that gratitude shared becomes gratitude multiplied. Support given becomes support returned. Kindness expressed has a way of echoing back.
Closing Thought
Thankfulness doesn’t fix everything.
It doesn’t erase stress, or pressure, or the demands of a world that moves faster than we were designed to.
But it does something quietly powerful:
It brings us back to center.
It reminds us what matters.
It helps us stay human in the deepest, most important sense of that word.
I hope this week brings you grounding, connection, and at least one moment of unexpected gratitude.
And if you’re reading this —
I’m thankful for you, too.
If This Season Feels Heavy, You’re Not Alone
Before I close, I want to acknowledge something important:
For many people, the holidays aren’t easy.
Maybe this time of year brings stress, complicated family dynamics, loneliness, anxiety, or just a wave of emotions you didn’t expect. If that’s you, please know you’re not the only one feeling that way, and there is real help out there.
I’ve put together a page of trusted mental health support resources, including crisis lines, text services, and places to find professional support when you need it. If you’re struggling, I hope you’ll take a moment to look through it — even if it’s just to know what’s available.
And if you’ve been thinking about therapy or looking for ways to support your mental wellbeing, I recently wrote a post on a guide to five recommended online therapy tools. It breaks down platforms, strengths, and how to choose the right fit for you.
You deserve support.
You deserve to feel grounded and cared for during the holidays and far beyond them.
Prefer to listen? The latest Podcast episode is available: Embracing Gratitude: Easy Ways To Feel More Thankful This Thanksgiving