My goal isn’t perfection. It’s not hustle for the sake of hustle, or applause, or proving anything to anyone. My goal is simpler, quieter, and somehow much bigger than all of that.
I want to wake up every morning feeling overwhelmingly grateful for the kind of life I have created for myself.
Not the kind of gratitude that shows up only on vacations or milestone days. Not the highlight reel version. I mean the ordinary-morning kind. The kind that shows up before the phone is checked. Before the day begins asking things of me. The kind that sits there gently and says, you’re okay. You built something that fits you.
Gratitude like that doesn’t come from luck. It comes from alignment. From a thousand small choices made consistently, often quietly, often when no one is watching. It comes from deciding what matters, and then having the courage to let other things matter less.
For a long time, I thought a good life was something that happened after you arrived somewhere. After the promotion. After the recognition. After the chaos settled down. But the truth is, life doesn’t pause while you’re chasing the next thing. It’s happening while you’re becoming. And if you’re not careful, you can build a life that looks impressive from the outside but feels exhausting from the inside.
The kind of life that inspires real gratitude is one that feels honest. One where your days aren’t constantly at war with your values. Where the way you spend your time actually reflects what you say you care about. Where success doesn’t cost you your peace, your health, or your relationships.
It’s waking up knowing you don’t have to pretend today. Knowing you don’t have to abandon yourself just to keep up. Knowing that even on hard days, you’re living in a direction that makes sense to you.
Gratitude, I’ve learned, isn’t passive. It’s built. It’s designed. Sometimes it’s protected fiercely. It means saying no more often than feels comfortable. It means choosing rest when the world rewards burnout. It means choosing presence when distraction is easier. It means redefining winning so it includes joy, not just progress.
Some mornings, gratitude looks like contentment. Other mornings, it looks like relief. And on the best mornings, it looks like quiet excitement. Not because everything is perfect, but because nothing feels wildly out of place.
I want a life where my mornings don’t begin with dread. Where Sundays don’t feel like a countdown. Where success doesn’t require me to shrink parts of myself that matter. I want a life that leaves room for laughter, for faith, for stillness, for growth that doesn’t feel violent.
That kind of life doesn’t arrive fully formed. It’s shaped slowly, through intentional living. Through learning what drains you and what fills you back up. Through paying attention to how your body responds to your choices. Through honoring seasons instead of fighting them.
And yes, there will always be more to want. More to fix. More to chase. But gratitude isn’t about having everything. It’s about recognizing when you have enough, and letting that be a source of joy rather than guilt.
If one day I can wake up, take a deep breath, and feel genuinely thankful for the life I’ve built, the pace I’ve chosen, the people I’ve kept close, and the person I’m becoming, then I’ll know I did something right.
Not because life was easy.
But because it was mine.
Kenrick Vaz 