When it’s Hard to be Thankful

You know that moment when you catch yourself doing that thing again, the one you promised you’d stop or at least manage better? Maybe it’s the extra drink, the late-night scrolling, the apology you owe but keep avoiding, the anger that flares too easily, or the constant reaching for something to quiet the ache inside.

When I was struggling, the word addiction felt too strong. I preferred softer names: relaxing, detoxing from the day, stress relief, you know, the excuses we use. You probably have your own version, something that began as comfort but grew into something you can’t quite steer anymore.

We rarely call it what it is. At least while it still has a powerful influence over us.

Relationships are usually the key indicators that something is seriously off. Relationships are messy, but they can be good indicators that our unwanted behavior is steering the ship. It’s terrifying because it will either force us to recognize our unhealthy pattern of behavior or burn bridges.

Why do we allow our unhealthy, unwanted behaviors to break relationships? Because our deepest addiction is often to our false self. It’s a counterfeit connection because what looks like comfort steals the capacity to give and receive love. But it can only be somebody else’s fault for so long.

There is a particular kind of pain that comes with unwanted behavior, a heaviness that settles on your chest like a weight you can’t shake off. The darkness doesn’t arrive all at once; it creeps. It shows up in moments of grief, stress, loss, or loneliness. It shows up when life breaks apart through illness, heartbreak, failure, or unmet expectations. And at some point, you find yourself a bystander in your own story, watching the slow-motion collapse of everything you love.

What I didn’t understand then is that this cycle is common. At Unbound Grace, we see this every day: unwanted behavior that springs from pain, shame, disconnection, and the deep ache to be soothed and seen.

People often assume the turning point in recovery is strength. But for many of us, strength was the problem. My imagined strength, the “I’ve got this” voice, was the very thing that blinded me.

Unwanted behavior forced a bitter but necessary collapse. It peeled away masks I had welded tight:

“I’m not as bad as others.”

“I can control this.”

“I don’t need help.”

But as those masks cracked and fell, I found something I hadn’t expected: grace. 

True recovery, the kind we all need, isn’t behavior management, it’s restoration. It’s the process of being rebuilt in the presence of Christ and in the safety of community.

I didn’t become stronger. I became friends with honesty. I began to embrace the gift of humility. I became dependent on God in ways I never imagined. And strangely, that dependence became freedom. I’m on a long journey, but by God’s grace, I’m trusting his direction. 

Because God often creates out of nothing, He sometimes loves us enough to bring us to nothing so He can rebuild us into someone whole. Not better. Not shinier. Whole.

When everything that propped up my identity was stripped away, I found myself joined to the cross in a way I had long avoided. It felt like dying, because it was. Dying to illusions. Dying to self-salvation. Dying to the lie that I could fix myself.

But when things die in the presence of Christ, resurrection is not optional. It is promised.

At Unbound Grace, we see this repeatedly: people discovering that God doesn’t love us for what we bring Him, He loves us because He is love. He meets us in our collapse and calls us beloved sons and daughters. He did this in the first Garden and He is doing this in our wilderness.

If you’re facing unwanted behavior right now, if you’re exhausted, ashamed, confused, or numb, here is the truth:

Christ will not sever you from Himself. His love is stronger than your darkest moment. He’s not waiting for you to get better; He’s waiting for you to stop your harmful efforts of trying to save yourself.

And you can’t do this alone. Recovery happens in connection, not isolation. At Unbound Grace, that’s why we exist: to walk with you in this wilderness and help you find the way home.

A Thanksgiving Benediction

As we enter this season of Thanksgiving, I keep returning to a simple truth:

Gratitude is not the fruit of a perfect life, it’s the fruit of a rescued life.

I’m grateful not because my story is neat, but because God met me in the mess.

I’m grateful not because I became stronger, but because He proved faithful.

I’m grateful not because the unwanted behavior disappeared instantly, but because grace has always remained.

Thanksgiving invites us to pause, not to pretend everything is fine, but to remember that God is with us in everything that isn’t.

So wherever you find yourself today, in collapse, in healing, in progress, or in hope, may gratitude rise gently in you. Not forced. Not performative. But real. A quiet thank you to the God who brings life from death, light from darkness, and hope from the very places we thought were beyond redemption.