The Case for "Basic Bitch" Gratitude

If you've been on the internet—like, ever—you know the term, "basic bitch," (aka "basic," because who has time for multiple word phrases anymore).

If this isn't a part of your repertoire (who are you?? I'd like to join the social-media-free world you're living in), just know that it's a derogatory way to say, "if you're not 100% original, or if you're living up to a stereotype, you're basic." or, more succinctly: "you're a sheep."

I'm torn on the term 'basic' because on the one hand I applaud authenticity and wholeheartedly believe we should all strive to be the most authentic versions of ourselves. On the other hand, though, I don't really love the whole 'shaming' aspect—and I especially don't love that the second something "authentic" becomes mainstream, it's deemed "basic." Especially because some of the things that become popular are healthy! Like an interest in self-care! And matcha tea! And yoga! I mean, yes. I get it. It's kind of obnoxious to witness something shift from authentically wonderful to a mindless trend, but it shouldn't keep you from practicing it if you're truly drawn to it.

My point is: sometimes it's okay to be basic.

And practicing gratitude is one of those things that is ALWAYS GOING TO BE OKAY TO DO, even when the tide turns on you.

Even when this tool you're practicing starts to gain mainstream traction.

Even when you find yourself chatting with a friend in a cafe, talking about how far your gratitude practice has come, and she giggles, "OMG listen to us, we're so basic."

Gratitude will never stop working for you.

Because here's the thing: it's pretty hard to use gratitude inauthentically.

Even the most "BASIC" expression of gratitude—you know, like the lowest hanging fruit on the gratitude tree, is good for you. Even "the sun is shining!" is an expression of gratitude I WILL TAKE. Because gratitude has this magical ability to sneak into your simplest expressions of it and GROW. It's like a weed—but the good kind. Wink.

Take this example from my own life: About a week ago, Los Angeles got hit by a sh*t-ton of rain. We don't see a lot of rain like this out here. So it's a thing. The downpour coincided with my grocery day. And unfortunately (or fortunately) for me, I was in the middle of a very busy season, so my schedule was tight. I didn't have the luxury of waiting out the torrential spray of sky-water. I had haphazardly prepared for the rain, not expecting anything like this. So I wasn't wearing a rain jacket and I didn't have an umbrella. But I WAS wearing a brand new pair of rain boots I'd gotten for Christmas. So there I was, walking through the rain to my car with no hood or umbrella, rain soaking through my canvas grocery bags. My car is 15 years-old, so the locks aren't so great, and it takes me an extra minute or so to open the doors and get inside.

Also: the windshield leaks a little bit.*

So I'm in my car, wet and cold, blasting the heat to dry myself off. And I exhale. The windshield lobs a consistent string of tiny water droplets onto my jeans. I can't help but find the humor here.

It would have been so easy to spiral into the mindset of "my life is so pathetic right now."

And then I noticed my feet. They were dry. No—they were warm AND dry.

And just like that, all my thoughts silenced as I acknowledged this warm wave of gratitude rising from my heart.

From something as SIMPLE as "owning rain boots." Because here's where it gets interesting: noticing that very simple detail got me thinking. It made me think about how that this was the first time—in 9 years of Los Angeles rainy seasons—that I owned a proper pair of rain boots. It was the first time I'd walked through the rain and made it out with dry feet. It made me think about how I'd never really valued dry feet before. It made me wonder why I'd never really valued dry feet before.

That spiraled, of course, to a realization that since I've been old enough to buy my own clothes (high school?) I had never invested in QUALITY 'equipment' for myself, even when I lived in snowy climates. Money was scarce at that time in my life, so I'd been conditioned to buy clothes from a perspective of 'lack.' I had learned not to value myself over money. My health, my comfort, was not worth the extra hundred dollars or so that would ensure I could walk through a blizzard without my feeling my bones chatter. I truly believed that.

Jaren, my husband, has a healthier outlook on money. He believes that we all deserve to feel comfortable. He believes that the 'investment' we make in good quality clothing—whether it's to protect from the elements or simply to look good—is worth it. Because he believes people are worth it.

This was a foreign concept to me. And even after 8+ years of being together, I struggle to apply it to myself. But I'm learning. This past Christmas, when I planned a trip to visit my brother in Colorado and realized I hadn't purchased a new set of snow boots in 10 years, I asked for a pair. It's all I wanted for Christmas. I found the perfect boots—perfect for snow, but also low-key enough to second as rain boots in those rare torrential downpours we'll get in LA. While I still struggle to buy that kind of thing for myself, I was able to bring myself to ask for them. And Jaren got them for me. So that TINY moment of gratitude for something as 'basic' as having a pair of rain boots grew into a massive appreciation for my partner, someone who has been serving as such a great role model on having a healthy financial outlook, and who has been unwittingly helping me open my eyes to my own limitations surrounding money.

And THAT is not a "basic bitch" expression of gratitude. That shit runs deep.

That's the magic.

There's no reason to get all up in your head about gratitude. This isn't a competition for "who can come up with the most mind-blowing moment of their day." It's okay to feel "basic" about how you express your gratitude.

You can be grateful for the food you eat, the weather outside, the joke you heard, the stranger who held a door for you, the compliment you received, the phone call with a friend, or the clothes on your back. You can be grateful for the same thing over and over and over again, if you want to.

Because the thing about low hanging fruit is this: it's attached a giant f*cking tree. And the more often you pluck this fruit, the more likely you are to notice the branches—and the leaves, and the trunk, and the roots, and the ground that tree is rooting into... and it goes on and on and on. The simplest expression of gratitude can flourish into something massive, especially if you allow yourself to sit with it. And no matter how wellness trends ebb and flow, no matter how 'authentic' you feel those trends become, that fact—and the power of your practice—will never change.

*(update: I did eventually get a new car. And talk about gratitude! I feel it every time I drive it still.)