“It was like one of those movie montages where the protagonist hits rock bottom before finding their footing,” I told my guy Reggie one day, reflecting on how a single small habit nudged my life into alignment. Except in my case, the “rock bottom” wasn’t dramatic—it wasn’t losing my job or a teary breakup in the rain. It was something quieter, like when you realize you’ve been mumbling through life without really showing up for yourself.

I was stuck on autopilot—teaching creative writing during the day, half-finishing essays by night, and in between, scrolling endlessly through highlights of other people's lives. Somewhere between this rinse-and-repeat routine, I began to lose touch with the rhythm that made life vibrant. That’s when I stumbled onto the habit that saved me: five minutes of intentional gratitude every morning, with a twist. Not just saying “thank you” in my head, but actually writing it down.

Now, before you roll your eyes and think, “Bruh, you mean journaling? Revolutionary,” let me explain why this wasn’t just another cute spiral notebook moment.

Finding My Morning Groove

Gratitude journaling might sound like the wholesome cousin of pumpkin spice lattes and crossfit—it’s everywhere and has a bit of a cult following. But for me, the habit clicked in a way hashtags and bumper-sticker slogans could never replicate. See, growing up South Side, there wasn’t much space for airy, disconnected positivity. It wasn’t like I could ignore real inequities or the reality outside my door, but I learned that even in the thick of it, appreciation could coexist with acknowledging struggles.

I’d wake up, coffee brewing and Miles Davis spinning low on my record player. (Yes, I’m one of those people who still uses a record player—it just feels more alive.) Notebook in hand, I started jotting down three things I was grateful for, but here was the kicker: no repeats. That's where the challenge—and the magic—came in.

Think about it. It’s easy to rattle off the big-ticket items like “family,” “health,” or “friends.” But when you can’t recycle those answers, you discover the hidden gems of daily life—in-between moments you usually overlook. Suddenly, I was tagging things like how the sunlight hits my fire escape just so in the morning or the way the crossing guard greets every kid with an extra pep in her salute. Small moments. Real moments.

Big Changes in Little Behaviors

Let’s talk ripple effects because gratitude didn’t just stop on the page. That five-minute shift snowballed into how I moved through the day. I became more observant, more present. You know how in rom-coms, the protagonist takes off their metaphorical foggy glasses and suddenly sees the world anew? It was kind of like that, minus the corny montage and upbeat soundtrack.

For example, take relationships. Practicing gratitude shifted how I communicated with my partner—let’s call her Maya. Instead of focusing on the fact that we always bickered over whose turn it was to do the dishes (my eternal struggle), I caught myself noticing how Maya remembered I liked my coffee slightly sweeter when I’d had a rough week. Gratefulness softened the sharp edges of my day-to-day annoyances. It didn’t fix every argument, but it sure made resolving them less like a chess match and more like teamwork.

Then there was my job. I love teaching creative writing, but there were days when the grind felt heavy, like pushing a stalled bus up 63rd Street. Intentional gratitude reminded me why I do what I do. That one kid, Jamir, who lit up the convo with his metaphor about “police sirens being city lullabies” became my anchor. It was no longer about teaching in general; it was about moments like this where I could help young voices find clarity and power.

Basically, writing down gratitude tuned me back into my "why."

The Unexpected Side Effects of Gratitude

Here’s the plot twist: gratitude writing, despite being about thankfulness, also taught me the power of no. You read that right. Figuring out what you’re genuinely grateful for has a way of clarifying what’s not feeding you.

Because here’s the thing—and maybe this is my Baldwin obsession talking—isn’t life too short to pour energy into connections that don’t reciprocate, jobs that don’t respect you, or routines that just maintain inertia? Focusing on gratitude made it easier to clear the clutter. I wasn’t avoiding hard stuff; I was just prioritizing the things and people that brought depth.

For instance, there was this Thursday happy hour crew I used to meet with—all professionals who loved swapping stories about their latest tech gadgets or how they shaved 20 seconds off their morning commute. Nice folks, but hanging out felt like working overtime on a group project I didn’t sign up for. Gratitude journaling helped me realize it wasn’t fulfilling me in the slightest. So, I bowed out gracefully, making more space for connections that mattered, like catching up with my childhood boys on someone’s stoop where the laughs were easy and the vibe effortless.

Starting Small but Starting Smart

Now, if you’re reading this and thinking, “Cool story, DeAndre, but I don’t write, and mornings are for hitting snooze,” I hear you. Five minutes is all you need to try this journaling gig. And if notebooks make you break out in a commitment sweat, start by tapping notes on your phone or even typing out a quick text to yourself. The medium doesn’t matter, just the mindset. Start small, and the rest can grow from there.

Here are a few gratitude pro-tips I picked up along the way:

  • Get specific: Don’t stop at “I’m grateful for my mom.” What is it about her that lights you up? That pep talk she gave you before your quarterly review? The chicken parm she brought over when you were stuck eating cereal for dinner?
  • Challenge yourself: No repeats for at least a week. Trust me—it keeps things interesting.
  • Use it as reflection: At the end of a rough day, grab your notebook (or phone) and write down something from earlier that felt like a win or a relief. It reframes negativity without denying it.

The Habit That Keeps on Giving

They say habits build character, and I don’t know about all that, but I do know this: life feels more three-dimensional now. Even when things ain’t perfect—and trust me, some weeks still feel like catching a crowded bus in heavy rain—I’m showing up for the smaller joys. Gratitude didn’t save me in a “heroic Hollywood last-minute rescue” kind of way; it held the door open for me to save myself, little by little.

So, whether you’re navigating a budding relationship, deepening a lifelong one, or just trying to connect with yourself, I’d offer you this: small doesn’t mean insignificant. Five minutes. A pen. A purposeful pause. It’s not magic, but it’s close. And who doesn’t need a little magic in their corner?