When Gratitude Doesn’t Work & Hope Feels Out of Reach (Kindness Saves the Day)
Why speaking gently to yourself calms the mind and body in ways gratitude can’t
Hey friend,
For years, I’ve practiced gratitude like it was medicine. Whenever my anxiety spiked, I’d start listing things I was grateful for. The logic made sense. Gratitude rewires the brain toward appreciation and calm, right?
And it did help.
At least, during the day.
But here’s what surprised me: over the past week, I stopped doing gratitude at bedtime and started doing something simpler, speaking kindly to myself. Nothing fancy. Just quiet phrases like:
“You’ve done enough today.”
“Your friends and clients appreciate you.”
“It’s safe to rest now.”
And the difference? Massive.
I fell asleep faster. I woke up less tense. And my body felt like it finally exhaled after years of being politely grateful but secretly on guard.
I’ve been waking up feeling rested, ‘rested’ I tell you. I haven’t felt rested in 20 years. Between pain, sleep apnea and an AuDHD driven brain that never shuts up, I thought rest wasn’t in the cards for me.
So I started digging into why that might be. Turns out, gratitude and kindness operate in different corners of the nervous system.
Gratitude looks outward
Gratitude is mental. It asks you to think, recall, evaluate, compare. “What’s going right?” “Who helped me today?”
That’s powerful during the day because it redirects your attention from danger to safety. Your brain stops scanning the world for threats and starts noticing good things instead.
But at night, your focus isn’t out there anymore. Gratitude keeps your brain active, running inventory while you’re trying to drift off. It’s a bit like trying to meditate by writing a to-do list.
Kindness speaks inward
Kind self-talk, on the other hand, isn’t about thinking. It’s about soothing. It’s the emotional equivalent of being wrapped in a blanket.
When you whisper, “You’re okay,” you’re not trying to convince yourself. You’re regulating yourself. You’re switching on your parasympathetic nervous system (the body’s rest-and-digest mode).
It’s like self-co-regulation. Instead of needing someone else to calm you, you become the safe person your nervous system’s been waiting for.
Research backs this up. Studies show self-compassion practices lower cortisol, slow the heart rate, and improve emotional resilience faster than gratitude journaling alone (Neff et al., 2021; Kirby et al., 2017).
Nighttime anxiety needs safety, not stimulation
When your body’s winding down, it doesn’t want positive thinking. It wants permission. Permission to stop. To soften. To exist without proving your worth.
That’s why kindness works better than gratitude at bedtime. Gratitude says, “Look how good life is.”
Kindness says, “Even if it isn’t, you’re still worthy of rest.”
And sometimes, that’s the exact lullaby your nervous system needs.
Kindness compared to hope
Hope and kindness often get lumped together, but they’re not the same medicine.
Hope says, “Things can get better.”
Kindness says, “You’re okay right now.”
Hope lives in the future. It gives direction. It’s the spark that says, “Keep going, this isn’t the end.”
But when you’re exhausted or anxious, hope can feel too far away—like something you have to earn.
Kindness doesn’t ask you to imagine a better day. It creates a better moment. It’s what steadies you when hope feels out of reach.
You could say:
Hope is a compass.
Kindness is fuel.
Hope reminds you where you’re heading, but kindness gets you there in one piece.
When you practice self-kindness, you refill the tank that hope runs on. Without it, hope becomes another demand from a world that already asks too much.
So when hope feels too heavy, start smaller.
Start kind.
That’s how you find your way back to hope—one gentle word at a time.
Try this tonight
When you lie down and your mind starts listing worries, don’t fight it with gratitude lists. Try this instead:
Put a hand on your chest.
Take a slow breath.
Say quietly:
“You did your best today.”
“You’re allowed to rest now.”
“Whatever happens tomorrow, you’ll meet it when it comes.”
NOTE: Make sure you say these phrases with the same loving feeling behind them as when you’re comforting someone you care deeply about.
No journaling required. Just kindness.
It’s not about being positive. It’s about being gentle with the person who’s been holding it together all day.
I teach kindness to my clients throughout our work together, this a-ha adds another important piece to helping them get better sleep with their busy minds.
Sleep well, my friend. You’ve earned it.
Thanks for being you,
Brian
Want guidance on being kinder to yourself?
References
Kirby, J. N., Tellegen, C. L., & Steindl, S. R. (2017). A meta-analysis of compassion-based interventions: Current state of knowledge and future directions. Behavior Therapy, 48(6), 778–792.
Neff, K. D., Tóth-Király, I., & Yarnell, L. M. (2021). Self-compassion: What it is, what it does, and how it relates to mindfulness. Annual Review of Psychology, 72, 1–26.