Thank You, Adversity

A midlife reflection on gratitude and growth

I used to hear the opening lines of Alanis Morrissette's Thank U and think it was just a gentle ballad of appreciation.

“Thank you India / Thank you providence …”

But lately, in this chapter of life, I hear it differently.

Now I hear a deeper message.

A radical kind of gratitude.

The kind that comes after you’ve been knocked down and learn how to get back up.

After seasons of grief, reinvention, and growth you never asked for.

And wouldn’t trade.

She doesn’t just thank the beautiful or easy.

She thanks terror, frailty, consequence, silence.

That’s the kind of gratitude that comes when you realize resilience isn’t built by comfort.

It’s shaped by everything you once thought might break you.

And then there’s the forgiveness.

Not the easy kind; the radical, internal kind.

The kind Alanis hints at when she sings, “The moment I let go of it was the moment I got more than I could handle.”

For me, that kind of forgiveness isn’t past tense. I’m living it right now.

After years of carrying the weight of one big mistake.

That moment, that detour that shaped everything,

I’m slowly learning to put it down.

Not by rewriting the story.

By releasing the guilt.

I thought I had to keep dragging it as penance.

That somehow, holding onto the shame was the cost of growth.

But here’s what I’m learning:

Growth doesn’t demand guilt.

It invites grace.

And grace, when you let it in, doesn’t just soften the past.

It transforms it.

Midlife, it turns out, isn’t about having all the answers.

It’s about finally learning to live with the questions,

And forgiving yourself anyway.

So today, when I hear Thank U, I don’t just hear a song.

I hear a mirror.

One that reflects the hard-earned truths of midlife.

Wisdom comes not from avoiding pain, but from walking through it.

Gratitude isn’t about ignoring wounds.

It’s about honoring, healing.

Sometimes, the most transformative words you can say aren’t “I’m sorry” or “I wish”.

They’re simply - Thank U.

So maybe this is my own verse:

Thank you relapse.

Thank you job hops.

Thank you endless nights on the road.

Thank you grief.

Thank you loneliness.

Thank you anger always waiting to explode.

Each one forced me to grow in ways I couldn’t foresee, and gave me the wisdom to say:

I wouldn’t be who I am without every single fall and every climb back up.

Try This: What’s Your Verse?

So what would your Thank U verse look like?

Write it out and if you want to take a risk, email me or just hit reply.

I’ll hold your words with care. They won’t go anywhere.

Sometimes saying it out loud,

or sharing it with someone who understands,

is how healing begins.

Here are a few prompts if you’d like to sit with your own verse:

✅ Where in your life could you whisper “Thank you” to something you once saw only as failure?

✅ What changed in you because of it?

✅ What old story or regret do you still carry that you might be ready to let go?

✅ What lesson or strength did you earn the hard way — that you now share with others?

Your next chapter doesn’t begin with perfection.

It begins with a quiet thank you for how far you’ve come and the courage to keep going.

-Mark

Mark Wigginton, MS, Certified Professional Coach​
Personal Coach | Career Guide | Life Lyricist
📬 MarkW@FocusingOnResults.com​
🌐 www.focusingonresults.com​
🔗 Connect with me on LinkedIn​

Podcast Drop! I recently shared my story of finding purpose through grief on Debi Ronca’s podcast. Give it a listen here.

P.S. If this message resonated with you, it might speak to someone else too. Forward it to a friend who’s ready for their next chapter—you never know what kind of shift a few words of encouragement can spark.

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