As the trees grow bare and the chill of November settles in, I’m reminded that the most important growth often happens beneath the surface. The world above may look still, but the roots are alive-reaching deeper, anchoring stronger. Gratitude has become that root system for me. Unseen by many, but holding me steady through every changing season.
In my earliest days of recovery, gratitude felt impossible. I was weighed down by shame, fear, and the belief that I didn’t deserve good things. For so long, I compared my “behind the scenes” to everyone else’s “highlight reels.” I saw people living lives that looked effortless, full, and free, while I was still fighting to take my next breath. But comparison truly is the thief of joy.
Over time, I’ve met people whose stories broke my heart- those who have known grief so deep it seemed unbearable, and yet they radiate peace. People with little in their hands but so much light in their eyes. They taught me that joy doesn’t come from what we have, but from what we hold with gratitude in our hearts. Gratitude is the quiet miracle that turns “not enough” into abundance.
What I’ve come to understand is that the roots of gratitude do not grow in easy soil. They take hold in broken ground- in the soil of suffering, watered by tears, and fed by surrender. It’s there, in the pain we wish we could escape, that gratitude begins to dig deep and find its strength. The frost of our changing seasons can’t reach roots that have learned to grow beneath the surface of hardship.
This month, the one that begins with the day I marry the love of my life, my heart feels anchored in a gratitude deeper than I ever thought possible. The same girl who once believed she was unworthy of love, trust, or the true peace of recovery now stands in the warmth of a love built on honesty, steadfastness, and grace. This life is a miracle. One that grew quietly underground, nurtured by mercy and strengthened through every difficult season that came before. Anchored by my daily surrender, doing the deep work of recovery, and taking it one day at a time.
To the parents reading this: I know how hard it is to watch someone you love struggle. You may wonder if anything is taking root beneath the chaos. But healing often happens in unseen places. Gratitude grows there too- in the smallest acts of grace, in the hope that flickers even on the hardest days.
I used to cry out to God, asking why He left me in certain valleys so long, why He didn’t lift me out when I was desperate to escape. But now I understand: He was planting something. Seeds that could only grow in the dark, quiet soil of surrender. He was tending to things I couldn’t yet see, and watering them with tears I thought were wasted.
Today, I can look back and see the flowers growing in that valley- proof that even the most painful seasons were never barren after all.
This November, as I begin a new chapter I once thought was out of reach, my heart is full. Not because life is perfect, but because it’s real. Because I get to live it- sober, present, and grateful.
When others see weeds, I’ve learned to see wishes. And when I pause long enough to say thank you- for the pain that shaped me, the love that found me, and the grace that keeps me, I remember that deep roots are never reached by the frost.
And I am grateful beyond words for the wildflowers I see blooming in the valley I once thought was barren land.
-Jamie, In Recovery
