Note to my subscribers: thank you for tuning in each week to read my little words. It brings me joy to know others find meaning in these posts. Special thanks to my paid subscribers. You know who you are, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting a writer in your life. :)
Increasingly, it feels like every email sendoff I receive lately is some combination of the following:
“Hope you are doing well, despite the fascism!”
“Stay safe due to [insert fire, floods, or some other extreme weather event].”
“Trying to stay productive despite the ongoing global chaos!”
Even the most zen person you know has been straining not to crack under the weight of multiple ongoing crises, from sky-high grocery prices to climate catastrophe to a shift toward far-right sentiment worldwide. And that’s on top of whatever personal crises they’re dealing with at the moment.
During times like these, I am tempted toward a desperate, last-ditch measure: gratitude journaling.
Don’t get me wrong: I’m a big fan of journaling. I think it helps to get clutter out of your mind and onto the page. I think it helps to reflect on your strengths and weaknesses and make a plan for your upcoming week. But I’ve struggled with gratitude journaling in particular.
I really like gratitude journaling — in theory. My problem with it lies in the execution. The times when I find it easiest to journal about the things I’m grateful for are the days when I least need to be reminded of them.
On these easy days, I notice the monarch butterflies practically floating by on the breeze, the palm trees seem to be singing in unison, and the barista’s “How’s your day going?” at the cafe makes me beam with, yes, gratitude.
But on my darkest days, gratitude seems so far out of reach. When I read about children dying of likely cold exposure from sleeping in an unheated car — in the U.S. — or when I hear about the resurgence of measles in the richest nation on the planet, I don’t feel compelled to crack open my journal and talk about how grateful I was to sniff my cup of tea this morning.

Enter my new strategy for exercising gratitude during tough times — the Katniss Everdeen way. Spoilers ahead for The Hunger Games! (For those who don’t know, Katniss Everdeen is the protagonist of the dystopian teen series, The Hunger Games, in which poor children from the “districts” must fight to the death for the entertainment of rich “Capitol” citizens).
At the end of the third and final book, Katniss has little reason left to believe in goodness in the world. Yes, she’s survived the Hunger Games, but at what cost to her soul? It’s hard to imagine a more difficult scenario in which to practice gratitude.
So how does Suzanne Collins, author of The Hunger Games, conclude her series with a remarkably good gratitude game to play when you live in a dark, uncertain world filled with unknowable terrors lurking around every corner?
Here’s how she does it. In the book’s epilogue, Katniss describes to her child how she finds solace — even on the really bad PTSD days when nightmares haunt her waking hours:
“I’ll tell them how I survive it. I’ll tell them that on bad mornings, it feels impossible to take pleasure in things because I’m afraid it could be taken away.
That’s when I make a list in my head of every act of goodness I’ve seen someone do…It’s like a game. Repetitive. Even a little tedious after more than twenty years.
But there are much worse games to play.”
Man, I get chills reading that final line every time. Yet, that epilogue accomplishes more than sending a pang of sorrow through my heart. It’s also an instructive guide on how to survive when each day seems like waking up to a new nightmare.
The way you survive: by remembering the humanity in others. Over and over and over again.
It’s not about forgetting we live in a world where school shooters exist or where politicians make budgetary decisions that result in children losing access to life-saving care.
It’s just about remembering that — alongside the real horrors of the world — there are also doctors saving the lives of young girls through innovative heart surgeries or people seeking out therapy so they can be better partners, parents, and friends.
So, on days when making a gratitude list feels too hokey or hard, I’m going to try out Katniss’ approach. I’ll start with today:
-In my book club, I saw many people smile, nod their heads & give kudos to others’ comments — a sure sign someone is listening closely and not just waiting for their turn to speak
-My roommate offered a tip about a great sandwich place in the LA neighborhood of Los Feliz
-I saw strangers offering kind words of support on LinkedIn to federal employees who had recently lost their jobs
-A family member called me today and remembered I took a walk and asked about it
-Another loved one sent me encouraging text messages about my self-growth and checked in throughout the day about my well-being
-A mom gently pushed her baby in a stroller while I was taking a walk
-Someone took the time out of their day to leave a comment on my Substack
-A friend gave me advance notice they couldn’t come to my book club and apologized, even though they were going through a busy time
Honestly, I feel like I had to reach today for some of these notes since I didn’t initially feel like I witnessed many acts of goodness. But when I looked deeper, these acts of goodness were flowing all around me.
Do you think you’d try Katniss’ exercise? Sound off in the comments.
Until next time…
This is awesome Tara and I loved how you put the Katniss quote in there as well! Some ways I practice gratefulness is by putting out a weekly gratitude post to people and always thanking everyone I meet and praying for them. But I love this idea of writing down the specific acts of kindness. It could really help open our minds to just how important various people in our lives are.💪💪💪💪
It's been so long since I read The Hunger Games but I really loved that final line. It's so hard to stay positive some days, but I do think remembering we're all still human and finding the more human/good parts of us is a big help in trying to keep your chin up.