When ‘Thank You’ Becomes a Cage
Gratitude is not meant to be silence, endurance, or pretending you’re fine.
I distinctly remember the first holiday season after my divorce.
I tried to keep things as close to ‘normal’ as possible for the sake of the kids. I bent over backwards to include my ex in our celebrations, determined not to have the kids shuffled back and forth all day, or, worse, not see one of us during the celebratory times — a reality I experienced as a kid.
We did our ‘normal’ thing. But it hurt like hell.
For all of us, I’m sure. Because it was still a reminder that things would never be the same again. When we parted ways after the events, I was relieved to get my ex out of the house. But I could see the pain in my kids' eyes—reminding me of how my decisions would impact them for years to come.
This is a pretty heavy load during a time when “all is merry and bright.”
Here’s what no one tells you about gratitude during the hardest seasons of your life: it can become another cage. Another way to silence yourself. Another performance you’re expected to deliver.
Gratitude should not have to live in a cage
You should be grateful your ex is willing to co-parent. You should be grateful you have your health. You should be grateful for what you do have.
And you are. But you’re also drowning.
I was holding a lot that year. I love the holidays—the togetherness, the traditions, the celebratory vibe of it all. But that year, I was hurting too. Scared. Overwhelmed with the new responsibilities of becoming a single parent and all that goes along with it.
Back then, I dealt with this tension by white-knuckling my way through—putting on a happy face for everyone, even myself. I was determined to make things okay for the kids. However, I’m not sure I considered my own needs.
I thought being grateful meant being quiet about the pain. I thought saying “thank you” meant pretending I was fine.
That’s the cage.
Gratitude is not submission. It’s not silence. It’s not endurance dressed up in festive wrapping paper. It’s not pretending you’re fine when you’re falling apart. And it’s definitely not a replacement for acknowledging what’s actually true.
Real gratitude doesn’t ask you to bypass your grief. It doesn’t demand you plaster on a smile while your heart is breaking. It doesn’t require you to minimize your pain because someone else has it worse.
The truth is, we’ve been taught a version of gratitude that functions as a cage—a version that keeps us small, quiet, and palatable. Something that stops us from naming what’s hard. Something that keeps us performing, rather than feeling.
But here’s what I know now: you can be grateful for the new life you’re building AND angry about how you got here.
You can love your kids AND grieve the family structure you thought you’d have forever.
You can appreciate your ex’s presence at the celebration AND still feel relieved when they leave.
Gratitude doesn’t cancel out the rest. It sits alongside it.
If you’re heading into this season carrying loss, change, or disappointment—please know that you don’t owe anyone a performance of thankfulness. You don’t have to minimize what you’ve been through to make others comfortable. You don’t have to prove you’re healing fast enough or moving on gracefully enough.
What I wish I’d known that first holiday season? That taking care of myself wasn’t selfish. That naming my pain didn’t make me ungrateful. That I could hold space for both my love of the season and my grief over what had changed.
I wish I’d had permission to step out of the cage.
So I’m giving you that permission now.
You get to feel all of it. You get to be honest. You get to say “this is hard” and “I’m grateful” in the same breath without apologizing for the contradiction.
Because gratitude that requires you to lie about your reality isn’t gratitude at all.
It’s just another cage with a bow on it.
LYLAS,
Sara
What version of gratitude have you been performing? What would it feel like to set it down? Feel free to respond in the comments below.