On a whim, I decided to take the advice of my therapist to combat insomnia. I told her about how it often took me between one and two hours to sleep, and could take just as long to get back to sleep if I woke up.
She didn’t recommend medication or the typical abstinence from reading and electronics half and hour before bed. She simply suggested that I take deep breaths, focus on them and say, “Thank you,” to God.
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I wasn’t sure how well that would work. As a solution, it seemed too simple and too good to be true. But anyone who has had insomnia knows that at some point a person gets desperate enough to try anything. Friends of mine have tried not breathing or mixing NyQuil™ and ZzzQuil™ (both can kill you, by the way. One of them actually needed hospitalization. So don’t try it. It’s a bad idea.). I decided to thank God for the involuntary process of breathing.
The method is something I’ve had mixed results with, sometimes helping and sometimes not. However, it introduced me to a habit that is more helpful that even sleep: being grateful.
When the last words my mind uttered were ones of thankfulness, it changed the entire orientation of my days. As I started to be grateful for something, as routine as breathing, it became difficult not to see the underserved blessings everywhere else.
I have food that nourishes my body and allows me to live. I have a body that can move, breathe and interact with the world around me. I have a roof over my head and a family that I love and who loves me. I have caring friends. I have so many opportunities that I never would have gotten on my own, but are products of God’s grace through other people. I have means of provision. I have moments of rest throughout my day, and can see the beauty of nature that I had no part in creating—I was merely born into it—and it is a gift. I have Christ, His joy, His salvation, His peace, His fellowship and His Church. I know Who God is.
These are all amazing gifts I began to realize simply through being thankful.
Looking at the world around me, I saw how much I could be without—but I am not. None of this is because of anything I have done or anything that is in me. Everything that I have is given to me because of God’s grace.
I am often guilty of being impatient. It is a quality I was born with, living in New York, where the most common sort of road rage happens while walking on the sidewalk, and a trip to the city is enough to make almost anyone have a renewed hatred for the human race and its copious offspring. I frequently find myself holding back sighs of exasperation at every inconvenience and questioning why they are really necessary, snapping at anyone who dares to perpetrate them.
Perhaps some readers can relate.
The thing is, when a person begins to realize how many blessings they are given so freely and undeservedly, it becomes a lot harder to get annoyed about not having certain conveniences that he or she thinks they are entitled to.
In my case, I realized I wasn’t entitled to anything. When I was given good gifts by God or others, I began to see it for the grace that it was. When I wasn’t given something, there was no loss—how can there be a loss when I did not get that which I am not owed?
Even as painful events confronted me, I began to see how much there was still to be thankful for. I may struggle with mental illness, but God has so richly provided me with medication, therapy and the support of my peers. I may have friends who don’t know God, which is saddening, but in that I realize how amazing my own relationship with God is and how undeserved is my salvation—He has shown such grace toward me. Even in hardship, there are many blessings.
I am still learning what it means to be grateful. Sometimes, I still act like that entitled, impatient, miserable human being—but I'm learning.
It's certainly an odd result for something that was recommended to fight insomnia, but I don’t mind. It’s brought more joy to my life than sleeping thus far, and is something I would recommend to anyone, whether they sleep soundly or glare at the clock around 3 a.m.
