As we approach Thanksgiving, I've been wrestling with what gratitude looks like when life hits you with a sledgehammer.
I'll be honest, 2025 has tested me in ways I never anticipated.
In just six weeks, we lost three incredible matriarchs of our family.
Aunt Magda at 98, Aunt Dee at 96, and Cousin Marina at only 78.
These weren't just relatives - they were forces of nature.
Powerful, opinionated women who spoke their minds when that wasn't always welcome.
They blazed trails, shaped communities, and left fingerprints on countless lives.
Their absence has created a void that echoes through every family gathering.
Since late June, I've also been battling severe vertigo and vestibular migraines that have fundamentally altered my daily existence.
Some days, I can barely walk.
The constant dizziness makes it hard to think straight, let alone create content or run my business at the level I'm accustomed to.
For someone who prides himself on productivity and helping others, this forced slowdown has been humbling.
I could easily label this year as horrible.
I could focus on the losses, the limitations, the frustration of a body that won't cooperate.
But here's what I'm learning: Gratitude isn't about denying pain. It's about choosing what to amplify.
I have an amazing family, including two grandchildren who remind me daily that wonder still exists in this world.
Their laughter is medicine no doctor can prescribe.
I live in one of the most beautiful places on earth, the San Francisco Bay Area, where even on my worst days, I can enjoy the Pacific Ocean or redwoods and remember I'm part of something magnificent.
I can still travel, even if it requires more planning, more rest, more grace with myself.
The world is still there, waiting.
I have clients who've stuck with me through this challenging time, relationships built on trust that transcend temporary limitations.
I'm still here.
Still breathing.
Still able to share thoughts with you.
This Thanksgiving, I'm not asking you to pretend everything is perfect.
Life isn't a highlight reel.
I am inviting you to look for the gold hidden in the rubble of this year.
Maybe you've lost someone, too.
Maybe your body has betrayed you.
Maybe your career took an unexpected turn.
Maybe you're just tired.
That's okay. Feel it all.
But also notice: Who's still standing beside you?
What beauty remains accessible to you, even if it's just sunlight through a window?
What small victories did you claim that nobody else saw?
Our three family matriarchs taught me that strength isn't about avoiding difficulty; it's about facing it head-on while refusing to let it define your entire story.
So this Thanksgiving, I'm choosing to be thankful for what remains, what endures, and what's still possible.
Not because this year didn't hurt, but because focusing on the light is how we find our way through the darkness.
What are you choosing to be thankful for, despite everything?
With gratitude and hope,
Ted
P.S. If this year has been hard for you too, know that you're not alone.
Sometimes the greatest act of courage is simply choosing to see one good thing when everything feels broken.
Start there.
