“I Should Be Happy”

When gratitude becomes another way we silence ourselves.

Day in and day out, women sit across from me and tell me about the hard parts of their lives.

They're exhausted.

They're overwhelmed.

They're lonely.

They're frustrated with their partner.

They're struggling with motherhood.

They don't feel like themselves.

They feel angry, resentful, bored, disconnected, touched out, depleted—or sometimes just... unhappy.

And almost inevitably, somewhere near the end, comes the disclaimer.

"But things could be worse."

"I love my kids, though."

"I wouldn't change a thing."

"I know I'm lucky."

"I wanted this."

"I shouldn't complain."

As though admitting something is hard requires immediately proving that you're grateful for it.

As though two things cannot possibly exist in the same space.

I love this. And this is hard.

Why are we so uncomfortable allowing both to be true?

When Gratitude Becomes a Way to Silence Ourselves

Gratitude is a beautiful thing.

But somewhere along the way, I think many of us learned to use it against ourselves.

We feel overwhelmed and immediately think about someone who has it worse.

We feel lonely in our relationship and remind ourselves that our partner is a good person.

We struggle with motherhood and immediately list all the reasons we're lucky to have our children.

We feel unhappy and look around at everything we've built and think:

What the hell is wrong with me?

I have a home.

I have healthy kids.

I have people who love me.

I have a career.

I have things I once desperately wanted.

I should be happy.

And suddenly the original feeling isn't even the problem anymore.

Now we're ashamed that we had it.

“I Should Be Happy” Quickly Becomes “What's Wrong With Me?”

I think this is one of the most painful parts.

When the way we actually feel doesn't match the way we think we should feel, we rarely question the expectation.

We question ourselves.

Why can't I just enjoy this?

Why am I so overwhelmed?

Why am I not happier?

Why does everyone else seem to handle this better than I do?

Why can't I just be grateful?

And now we're not only struggling.

We're struggling and feeling guilty for struggling.

Social media doesn't exactly help.

Neither do unrealistic expectations of motherhood, relationships, careers, friendships, homes, bodies, families and what a "good life" is supposed to feel like.

We're surrounded by carefully curated evidence that everyone else is enjoying the same things we're struggling to survive.

And so instead of saying:

This is fucking hard.

We say:

Something must be wrong with me.

What Would It Mean If We Actually Said It?

I think sometimes we're scared to admit how we really feel because of what we think those feelings might mean.

What would other moms think if I said:

Sometimes I don't enjoy motherhood.

What would it mean if I admitted:

I love my partner, but I feel lonely.

What kind of person says:

I chose this life, and sometimes I don't want to do it.

Can I admit that I miss freedom without it meaning I don't love my children?

Can I acknowledge resentment without being ungrateful?

Can I have a beautiful life and still want something to change?

Can I struggle with something I chose?

Yes.

Because being human is complicated.

Parenting is hard.

Relationships are hard.

Careers are hard.

Change is hard.

Being responsible for a whole life is hard.

And something being difficult doesn't automatically mean it was the wrong choice.

Hard does not mean wrong.

It doesn't mean you shouldn't have become a mother.

It doesn't mean you chose the wrong partner.

It doesn't mean you're failing.

It doesn't mean you're ungrateful.

Sometimes it simply means:

This is hard.

And you're allowed to say that without immediately following it with a reason you shouldn't feel that way.

Maybe We Need Less “But” and More “And”

Listen to how often we use the word but when we're talking about our lives.

"I love my kids, BUT I'm exhausted."

"I love my partner, BUT I feel lonely."

"I'm grateful for my life, BUT I'm overwhelmed."

"I chose this, BUT sometimes I don't want to do it."

That little word does something interesting.

It makes it sound like one truth threatens the other.

Like we have to choose.

Grateful or struggling.

Happy or overwhelmed.

Loving or resentful.

Successful or unfulfilled.

A good mom or a woman who sometimes desperately needs a break from being needed.

But what if we stopped choosing?

What if we replaced BUT with AND?

I love my kids AND I'm exhausted.

I love my partner AND I feel lonely.

I chose this AND sometimes I don't want to do it.

I'm grateful for my life AND something is missing.

I know I'm fortunate AND I'm struggling.

Both truths get to exist.

Neither one cancels the other.

And maybe that's where we finally get to breathe.

Someone Else Having It Worse Doesn't Make This Easier

"Other people have it worse."

Of course they do.

There will almost always be someone experiencing something harder than what we're experiencing.

But I'm not sure when we decided that pain needed to win a competition before it deserved acknowledgment.

Someone else's suffering doesn't make your nervous system less overwhelmed.

It doesn't make your loneliness less lonely.

It doesn't give you more energy.

It doesn't make something hurt less.

And acknowledging your own experience doesn't take anything away from theirs.

You don't need to prove that your life is bad before you're allowed to admit that something feels hard.

You don't have to earn the right to struggle.

You Can Love Your Life and Still Need More From It

Maybe this is the part we don't say enough.

You can deeply love your life and still wish parts of it were different.

You can be grateful and still have needs.

You can be happy and still have hard days.

You can love motherhood and miss yourself.

You can love your partner and need more connection.

You can appreciate what you have and still want something to change.

You can choose something and later discover that carrying it is heavier than you expected.

None of that makes you ungrateful.

It makes you a person capable of holding more than one emotional truth at a time.

And maybe we don't need to immediately fix those feelings.

Maybe the first thing we need is permission to actually have them.

Without the disclaimer.

Without the comparison.

Without the guilt.

Without immediately reminding ourselves how lucky we are.

Just:

This is hard.

And that's okay.

Gentle Reflection 🌿

There are no right or wrong answers here—only an invitation to notice what comes up.

• What feeling do you most often follow with “but I know I'm lucky”?

• Where in your life are you trying to choose between two truths that might actually be allowed to exist together?

• What would you finally let yourself admit if you knew it didn't make you ungrateful, selfish, or wrong?

A Final Thought

Gratitude doesn't require pretending that everything feels good.

Loving something doesn't mean you have to love every part of it.

Choosing something doesn't mean you're never allowed to struggle with what it asks of you.

And having a good life doesn't mean every part of living it will feel good.

You don't need to prove that your life is bad before you're allowed to admit that something feels hard.

Because gratitude was never supposed to require the denial of your own experience.

You are allowed to love your life AND tell the truth about what it's like to live it. 🌿