Feeling Grateful for Yourself

A woman I spoke with this week had just done something hard.

For two weeks, she worked to understand what her organization's senior leader expected of her. She was stressed the whole way through. Then she delivered, and it impressed the exact person she'd been so worried about.

I asked how she was going to celebrate.

"I'm not."

She wasn't being modest. She looked at me as if the question didn't quite make sense. She had already moved on.

If you're a woman in midlife, you may know that look from the inside.

Most of us are fluent in what we should have done differently. Ask about the meeting that went sideways and the details come right back. Ask what we did well and the subject changes.

For some of us, that inner commentary has been running since we were small. It's so familiar we mistake it for the truth.

Gratitude for yourself might be the least practiced kind of gratitude. It's also one of the most quietly powerful, especially in a season of life when so much of who you were is being rewritten and who you're becoming hasn't fully arrived yet.

Why Self-Appreciation Feels So Uncomfortable

Think about the last time someone complimented you.

Maybe they loved your hair, or something you were wearing. Did you say thank you and leave it there? Or did you launch into an explanation about where you bought it, how long it's been in the closet, or that you just had your hair done last night?

I'm the one who explains. Someone tells me they like my hair, and I hear myself offering the backstory, as though I owe them an explanation. Saying thank you and stopping there is something I'm still practicing.

Here's what I've noticed, in myself and in the women I'm lucky enough to be surrounded by. Many of us don't like attention on ourselves. A compliment is a small spotlight. If you're not used to standing in it, or you're not sure you agree with what's being said, deflecting is the quickest way out.

So we change the subject. We hand the kindness back.

It's the same reason gratitude for yourself can feel strange. It's a muscle. If you haven't used it much, it's no wonder it feels awkward. That doesn't mean there's nothing there to appreciate.

The Parts of You Measured Against Everyone Else

Let me tell you about my legs.

Two hereditary conditions, venous insufficiency and lymphedema, have shaped them since my mid-to-late twenties. My lymphatic system doesn't work the way it should, which means constant swelling, and at times one leg can be as much as two inches larger than the other. I've worn compression stockings for decades.

For a long time, I watched other women's legs. In skirts. I could never wear skinny jeans, because I needed a boot cut with room for the swelling below my knee. I measured mine against theirs, and I always came up short.

Somewhere along the way, as part of a gratitude practice I'd been building, I stopped. I stopped scanning the legs on social media and the ones walking past me on the street. I started asking a different question: what do these legs do for me?

The answer surprised me. They carried me around Ireland. They took me to Italy. They get me into the woods, which is where I feel most like myself. They get me to dinner, and to my son's hockey games.

Here's the part I keep coming back to.

My legs haven't changed. If anything, they're slightly more swollen now. What changed is how I see them.

It makes me wonder how many other things we've criticized for years, or barely noticed at all. Your body, maybe. Or your sense of humour. Your curiosity. The way you make people feel welcome. That you listen well. That you'll try something new even when you're scared.

When did you last let yourself notice any of it? When did you last appreciate your eyes, even if you're hunting for your glasses for the fourth time today, for everything they let you see?

And this isn't only about what other people can see. Gratitude for yourself reaches past your hair, your legs, your face. It's about the person you are and how you show up, day after day, in the small moments no one is watching.

What Celebrating Yourself Looks Like

Back to the woman who moved on.

She did have a vacation coming. Time away with her spouse, time she'd chosen for herself. I love that. But it was still days off, and it was already booked for a different reason. It wouldn't acknowledge what she had just done.

So I suggested something smaller. Today or tomorrow, make a cup of tea. Sit with it. And while you drink it, let yourself remember what those two weeks took. The patience. The tenacity. The willingness to keep going when you weren't sure what was needed.

I wanted her to see more than the result. I wanted her to see what it took to get there.

I asked for one more thing. Don't only tell someone about it. Let your body feel it. There's a real difference between describing a win and letting yourself register it, and for her, that meant a shift away from worry and feeling unsafe, toward feeling safe and knowing the patience had paid off.

Notice, too, that she didn't need to do anything dramatic. The effort was already hers. The only thing missing was the pause.

It doesn't have to be tea. It doesn't need a ceremony. It needs a few minutes you would otherwise spend moving on to the next thing.

It's easy to skip, like crossing something off a list. But it took a lot out of you, and it showed you who you are. That's worth a few quiet minutes.

Grateful and Still Growing

None of this means pretending you don't want to change. Of course there is. You're growing. So am I.

But so much of midlife is spent leaning toward the next thing. The next goal, the next version of ourselves. The woman you're becoming matters. So does the woman who walked into that meeting tired and nervous and did it anyway.

Both can be true together. You can work toward something and still feel deeply grateful for who you are today.

I also believe, and I feel this in my gut, that whatever you look for, you find more of. If you're watching for what went wrong, what you could have said differently, you'll keep finding it. If you start watching for what you're grateful for, that begins to show up instead.

Choosing where to look doesn't erase the hard things. It simply stops them from being the only thing you see.

I've been practicing gratitude for almost a decade, and it has changed how I experience my life. Turning it toward myself has been the newest part, and in some ways the most tender.

A Small Place to Start

You don't have to begin with your body, or the biggest thing you've ever accomplished. Choose one small thing you do well, or one quality you've been taking for granted. Say thank you to yourself for it, and stop there. Leave it unexplained. It might feel awkward at first. That's allowed. Muscles usually do.

There's a freedom in knowing who you are. And when you know, you get to choose what comes next. What might shift if appreciating yourself became a small, ordinary part of your day?

If this stirred something for you, the Midlife Clarity Guide can help you get to know who you are: www.thecourageousmiddle.com/midlife-clarity-guide

Reminder: you have always been courageous for everyone else; it's time to turn that courage inward.