Thanksgiving has always been a time to reflect on the things we’re grateful for. Family, friends, health, recovery, and all the other things that sometimes get lost in the busyness of everyday life.
This year, though, something happened that reminded me that gratitude isn’t always about what we have. Sometimes it’s about what we’re privileged to witness.
Recently I finished facilitating another Phase 2 group at The Gatehouse, an organization that supports survivors of childhood sexual abuse. Over the course of 15 weeks, I had the privilege of sitting alongside a remarkable group of people on their healing journeys.
Everyone completed the program and found the courage to tell their story. By the time we gathered for our final evening, a potluck dinner that has become a tradition, there was a genuine sense of connection in the room.
We even had a birthday cake. One of the participants was celebrating a year of sobriety, and there was no way we were letting that milestone pass without acknowledging it.
It was a wonderful way to end our time together. As it turns out, the ending wasn’t really an ending.
After the group finished, they created a WhatsApp chat so everyone could stay connected. Over the past few days, the messages have been filled with warmth, encouragement, and expressions of gratitude.
And then, this Thanksgiving morning, I read a message that stopped me in my tracks.
One of the participants expressed their gratitude for being accepted exactly as they were when they first walked into the group, exhausted, overwhelmed, and struggling. They spoke about finding the courage to become their authentic self and thanked the others for helping them get there.
I sat with those words for a while.
Having been there at the beginning, I could see the transformation they were describing. I remembered the person who first walked into the room and thought about the person who had just written that message.
And I felt two things.
Pride and gratitude.
Pride in the courage it takes to show up, particularly when you’re carrying years of pain and uncertainty. Pride in someone who was willing to do the difficult work of looking inward, sharing their experiences, and discovering parts of themselves that may have been hidden for a very long time.
And gratitude for having been allowed to witness it.
I’ve been involved in recovery and healing for more than 40 years, first through my own journey and, more recently, through my work as a peer facilitator. One of the things I’ve learned along the way is that healing rarely happens in isolation.
We need connection. We need to know that we can speak honestly about our experiences without being judged, dismissed, or told how we should feel. Sometimes, we simply need to sit in a room with people who understand.
There’s something powerful about being accepted as we are, rather than as someone thinks we ought to be.
That acceptance doesn’t magically erase the past. It doesn’t mean the work is finished, or that life suddenly becomes easy. But it can create the space in which change becomes possible.
And when that happens, the transformation belongs to the person doing the work.
As a facilitator, I don’t heal anyone. Neither does my co-facilitator. We help create and maintain a safe space, encourage people to explore their experiences, and offer support along the way. The courage, the vulnerability, and the willingness to change come from the participants themselves.
And often, the most meaningful support comes from the other people sitting in the circle.
That’s what made this particular Thanksgiving message so special. It wasn’t simply a thank-you to the facilitators and group members. It was an expression of gratitude to the entire group for the acceptance, compassion, and connection they had shared.
It was a reminder that something meaningful had happened in that room, and that its impact was continuing long after our final session.
I sometimes think about how different my own life might have been if I’d found that kind of acceptance much earlier. But then I remember that my experiences, including the difficult ones, have helped shape the person I am today and the work I now have the privilege of doing.
There’s a certain satisfaction in that. Not because the past was necessary or justified, but because something worthwhile can grow from it.
So, this Thanksgiving, I’m feeling particularly grateful.
Grateful for the people who trusted us enough to share their stories. Grateful for the courage they showed, the connections they formed, and the growth I was fortunate enough to witness.
And grateful that, after all these years, I still get to be part of something that reminds me just how remarkable people can be when they’re given the opportunity to heal.
Happy Thanksgiving.