What if I don’t feel grateful?

Honoring your feelings & the Crystals that guide us through

We’re encouraged to be grateful — constantly.
During the holidays.
During prayer and meditation.
When life is good.
When life is hard.
When we’re at our lowest and when we’re on top of the world.

So many of us grew up hearing, “Be grateful for what you have — other people have so much less.”

But instead of inspiring gratitude, those words often stir something else: worry, guilt, pressure, or even shame.

We’re told to keep gratitude journals, write daily lists, count our blessings, and “raise our vibration” by focusing on the good.

But what if, you’re just not feeling grateful right now?

What if what you’re actually feeling is anger… or envy… or grief… or numbness?

And what if…that’s completely okay?

The truth we rarely speak aloud

Forcing gratitude when your heart is breaking is not healing.
Trying to “snap out of it” when you’re depressed is not empowering.
Pushing yourself to “focus on the positive” when grief has hollowed you out is not loving.

When we pressure ourselves to feel grateful before we’re ready, we unintentionally label our real emotions—sadness, loneliness, heartbreak, fear—as "bad.” And then we label ourselves as bad for feeling them.

But here’s the deeper truth:

✨ Sometimes we need to feel our real emotions before we can feel gratitude.
✨ Sometimes we need to move through the darkness before we can see the light.
✨ Sometimes we need to let grief expand before joy can return.

The trick isn’t to force gratitude.
The trick is balance— to allow gratitude to rise naturally, gently, at its own pace.

You can make space for joy and still honor your pain.
You can appreciate your blessings and acknowledge your sorrow.
You can feel grateful and feel human.

When gratitude feels far away

In the world we live in, it’s no wonder gratitude feels out of reach at times.

On one side, media pulls our attention toward the worst tragedies of the world—amplified, repeated, dramatized. On the other, social media shows us the most polished, glamorous versions of people’s lives—often exaggerated or entirely fabricated.

These extremes pull us into constant comparison and overwhelm. We end up feeling either fear or lack…with little space left for truth.

But the truth is simple:

Real life is not an extreme.
Real life lives in the middle.
And so does real gratitude.

When the world feels heavy, the heart needs support—gentle, grounded, loving support.

And when I asked, 

“What if I don’t feel grateful?”

Three crystals came forward.

✨ one for depression
✨ one for grief
✨ one for hope—the light that guides us back home

Their wisdom was pure, compassionate, and timely. And I want to share these crystals with you.

1. Holey Stone—When you can’t see the shore

It’s almost impossible to feel grateful when you’re in the center of depression.

When everything feels grey, heavy, and endless, gratitude feels far away—not because you don’t appreciate your blessings, but because you can’t access them. Your heart is underwater.

Depression feels like being out at sea for days or weeks…
Nothing but ocean in every direction.
No land in sight.
No sign that anything will ever look different.

This is when the Holey Stone steps forward.

Weathered by waves and tiny creatures who burrow sacred openings through its body, this stone becomes a physical reminder:

✨ The shore still exists, even if you can’t see it.
✨ You came from land.
✨ You are moving toward it again.

Holey Stones help us navigate the emotional waters—not by forcing us to “think positive,” but by keeping us steady, oriented, and moving toward light instead of drifting deeper into darkness.

2. Rainbow Obsidian—When grief takes all the space in your heart

It’s hard to feel grateful when you’re grieving.
Grief takes up the whole room.
It fills every corner of your inner world.

In these moments, you may not have space in your heart to feel joy, blessings, or appreciation—and that is not only natural…it is sacred.

Grief is not something to rush or bypass.
It is something to move through, slowly, compassionately, at your own pace.

This is where Rainbow Obsidian becomes a gentle guide.

Black and glossy on the outside, but filled with hidden iridescent colour, it teaches us:

✨ We can feel our pain without suffering.
✨ We can let the sadness be what it is—without pushing ourselves to “be grateful” yet.
✨ We can trust that the light will return, even if we cannot see it today.

Rainbow Obsidian helps soften the heaviness of grief by holding a safe space for emotion. It lets us breathe in the darkness, without getting lost inside it.

3. Optical Calcite—When hope has gone

There are moments when we can’t access gratitude—because we can’t find hope in our hearts.

When hope disappears, we lose the ability to imagine anything beyond today’s storm.
When we can’t see the blessings and we don’t see beauty anywhere.

This is the time to invite in Optical Calcite.

Clear. Bright. Geometric. Prismatic.

It seems impossible for anything to be hidden in this vividly clear crystal. Yet rainbows will suddenly appear with the slightest shift. Its message is simple and profound:

The rainbow is already here.
You just need to look from a different angle.

Optical Calcite reminds us that storms are temporary, the sky will clear, and colour will return.

It reconnects us with possibility.
With inspiration.
With the softest whisper encouraging us to “keep going.”

You are allowed to feel what you feel

So… what if you don’t feel grateful?

You’re allowed.
You’re human.
And you’re not doing anything wrong.

Feel what you feel.
Let your emotions breathe.
Let your heart rest.

And when you’re ready—invite in joy, beauty, blessings, and gratitude gently, naturally, in the smallest of ways.

Lean on the crystals when you need support.
Lean on your friends, your community, nature, or quiet moments of peace.
Lean on whatever reminds you that the rainbow is still there.

You don’t need to force gratitude.
You only need to stay open to the possibility of its return.

And it will return.
Just like land after days at sea.
Just like dawn after the longest night.
Just like colour after grey skies.