Every November, specifically this past November, like clockwork, the world suddenly remembered gratitude exists. One minute, everyone was arguing over whether the turkey was supposed to be brined, basted, massaged, or just prayed over to keep it from tasting like seasoned drywall or whether Aunt Linda’s stuffing should legally be classified as a choking hazard, and the next? Boom. Philosophers.

Instagram captions devolved into inspirational hostage notes overnight. Your feed was filled with people clutching post-Thanksgiving lattes, wrapped in scarves the size of HVAC ducts, whispering into the void: “Feeling blessed after a beautiful holiday.”

Oh, please.

Let’s be honest. Most of us don’t practice gratitude because we’re spiritually evolved; we practice it because the calendar slapped us with Thanksgiving and basically said, “Say something heartfelt, or you’re socially defective.” So we haul out the emotional decorations, right next to the inflatable turkeys and the “Gather” signs, we pretend we didn’t panic-buy at Hobby Lobby on November 20th.

But gratitude isn’t seasonal. It’s not produce. It doesn’t expire the moment the last sad spoonful of mashed potatoes is shoved into a plastic container with a mismatched lid. Gratitude is supposed to be a year-round habit. A lifestyle. A mindset. A daily ritual.

And yet? We treat it like that fancy bottle of wine we swore we’d open “for Thanksgiving dinner,” only to forget about it until Christmas Eve, when it’s basically a festive bottle of liquid regret.

Here’s the real problem: once the Thanksgiving leftovers hit the Tupperware, gratitude packs its bags, grabs its charger, and hitches a ride out of town. By the time December rolls in, wearing its twinkle lights and peppermint-scented aggression, we’ve replaced “thankful hearts” with Christmas shopping lists so long they violate zoning laws.

We act as if grateful people just blossom out of the earth, humming with Zen and enlightenment. Newsflash: they don’t. Gratitude takes work. Annoying, repetitive, grown-up work.

Kind of like laundry, except gratitude doesn’t sit unfolded in a chair for three weeks.

Being grateful on Thanksgiving is easy. Anyone can muster warmth while passing the gravy boat, but being thankful on a random Tuesday in December when someone steals your parking spot at Target two weeks before Christmas? That’s Olympic-level gratitude. Gold medal. Standing on the podium with your hand over your heart and everything.

Stop waiting for perfect conditions to feel grateful. Gratitude does NOT require:

• A holiday
• A pumpkin spice anything
• A Hallmark-movie-worthy tablescape where Martha Stewart descends from the heavens
• A moment where your family actually listens to you (good luck this month)

Gratitude can absolutely happen while:

• Scooping dog-hair tumbleweeds off the floor again
• Watching your teenager pretend that helping decorate the tree violates the Geneva Convention
• Sitting in traffic listening to the same three Christmas songs on loop until your eye twitches
• Opening a fridge full of actual food while hearing, “There’s nothing to eat!” on repeat

You don’t need a gratitude journal color-coded by mood to be a better human. Start with something realistic:

• “I’m grateful I didn’t lose my sanity today, even though the universe dared me.”
• “I’m grateful for coffee, which is basically seasonal cheer in liquid form.”
• “I’m grateful the dog only ate one ornament instead of chewing through the entire lower half of the tree.”
• “I’m grateful Amazon returns exist, especially this month.”

Boom. You’re spiritually aligned.

If gratitude were easy, everyone would do it. But the truth hurts: gratitude is a muscle. And just like going to the gym, we happily ignore it unless someone bribes us with a holiday, a theme, or a casserole.

We don’t need Thanksgiving to remind us to be grateful.
We need Thanksgiving to remind us how badly we need practice.
Because here comes Christmas,  the Super Bowl of emotional endurance,  and if you can keep gratitude alive through December, you’re basically a monk.

So yes:
Be grateful now.
Be grateful when the tree lights won’t untangle.
Be grateful in April.
Be grateful when the universe is kind, and especially when it isn’t.

Gratitude shouldn’t be a seasonal sale that ends at midnight on November 30.

And honestly? If you found something to be thankful for on Black Friday and survived shopping without committing a misdemeanor, congratulations, you’ve ascended.