Life in New York City can feel like riding a rollercoaster on fast-forward. The energy is electric, but it can also leave you stressed out and exhausted before you even finish your bagel. I’ve been a New Yorker my whole life, and I’ve always felt a deep love for this city’s chaos—until it started overwhelming me. Between work pressures, rising costs, crowded subways, and that one neighbor who strums his guitar at the strangest hours, I found myself in a near-constant state of tension.

One day, while scrolling through yet another round of late-night articles (because sleep is optional in the city that never sleeps), I stumbled on something about gratitude journaling. As I read, I thought: “Well, I’ve tried everything else to manage stress—why not this?” Little did I know that making a simple morning list of five things I was grateful for would completely change how I see the world around me.

The First Scribbles

That first morning was an experiment. I woke up in my tiny Manhattan studio, made some coffee, and sat down at my vintage kitchen table—a piece I’d rescued from a curbside discard. I wrote the date at the top of the page, tapped my pen a few times, and stared at the blank paper. My mind was surprisingly uncooperative. It felt weird to think, “So what am I grateful for, exactly?”

Eventually, I started small: “I’m grateful for this mug of coffee.” Not exactly life-altering, but at least it broke the silence in my head. After that, I jotted down the comfy pajamas I was wearing, the text from my best friend checking in, the bird that insisted on singing outside my window, and the calm before the city’s daily roar. Nothing revolutionary, but each one made me smile in a subtle, refreshing way. It was like flexing a new mental muscle. Sure, it felt a bit forced at first, but by the end of my mini-list, I already felt lighter—like I’d let a little sunlight into a dark room.

Building the Habit

I decided to keep at it. Every morning, five things. Some days, the list flowed out of me like I’d discovered an underground spring of positivity. Other days, I had to wrestle my grumpiness to the ground before I could come up with even one. But I stuck to the rule: five items, no matter what. If I was running late, I’d scribble them quickly on a sticky note; if I had more time, I’d write them neatly and take a second to reflect.

By week two, something started to shift in my mindset. Even as I moved through my daily routine—commuting on a packed train, grabbing lunch at a busy deli, rushing off to my next appointment—I found myself noticing little positives in the moment. Maybe it was a street performer rocking out on the subway platform, or a kind stranger who held a door open. Without consciously trying, I was hunting for good things all day because I knew I had to come up with five items the next morning. It was like my brain had turned on a “gratitude radar,” actively scanning the city for small blessings.

Finding Joy in Unexpected Places

Before this experiment, I used to see New York primarily through a lens of stress. Everything felt urgent, cramped, and intense. But gratitude journaling forced me to zoom in on pleasant details I’d previously overlooked. Take my subway ride: once a dreaded trip spent frowning at my phone, it became a chance to appreciate the murals in the station tunnels or the mother gently calming her toddler with a silly song.

Even the towering skyscrapers—structures I used to view as cold monuments of corporate life—began to take on a new beauty under the pink glow of sunrise. The city was still loud, messy, and, on some days, borderline insane. But I began to see it as a place bursting with life and endless little moments of humanity.

Gratitude and Relationships

One of the biggest differences I noticed was in my relationships. I started paying attention to the people around me in a deeper, more caring way. My roommate, who used to drive me nuts by leaving mugs in the sink, suddenly became someone I appreciated for her random dance parties in the kitchen. My boss, who I’d always thought was too harsh, began to seem more like a mentor than a tormentor. Even my friends commented that I seemed brighter—more engaged and patient, less likely to snap at minor annoyances.

It wasn’t that I became some perpetual ray of sunshine who never had a bad day. Trust me, I’m still human, and I still live in New York City (stress capital of the world). But I found myself more capable of putting frustration in perspective and remembering that, in the grand scheme of things, most of my irritations were small and fleeting.

Overcoming the Tough Days

There were mornings when I woke up on the wrong side of the bed—groggy, cranky, and absolutely not feeling grateful for anything. On those days, I could barely muster the will to open my journal, let alone reflect on life’s blessings. But I forced my pen across the page anyway, even if it felt mechanical. I’d jot down the sunshine through the window, the sound of a friend’s laughter from the night before, or the creamy texture of the peanut butter on my morning toast.

On paper, it might have looked trivial, but it helped. On the toughest days, I’d reread old entries. Reminding myself of past moments of gratitude had a way of lighting up the present, no matter how gloomy it felt.

Embracing Authentic Positivity

A common question I get is: “Isn’t it fake to force yourself to find something good when things are objectively going wrong?” My answer is that it’s not about putting on blinders or pretending that pain and problems don’t exist. Real gratitude acknowledges that life can be messy and difficult. It’s about making a conscious effort to look beyond the chaos and see that there’s still something—anything—worth appreciating.

It doesn’t make your problems disappear, but it does keep them in perspective. It’s a gentle reminder that not everything is awful, even when parts of your life feel like a swirling storm. For me, gratitude is like a lifeline back to reality, a reminder that life is a mix of ups and downs, and both can coexist.

The Lasting Shift

After a few months of consistent practice, I realized I wasn’t just jotting down a list anymore—I was living it. The small details I used to gloss over became sources of genuine wonder. My favorite street cart coffee tasted richer, the local park felt more inviting, and the constant chatter of the city started sounding less like noise and more like a shared symphony of human life.

My outlook on New York hasn’t become purely romantic—it’s still the city of random latenight wails, chaotic construction, and frantic rush hours. But now, I see it in full color, noticing the sparks of kindness and joy in every corner. That’s the biggest gift gratitude gave me: a new lens to see the same old world, revealing beauty I never knew was there.

If you’re curious about trying it yourself, grab a notebook, or even just the Notes app on your phone. Write down five things you’re grateful for each morning—big or small, silly or profound—and see if it doesn’t gently nudge your perspective toward hope. In a place like this, or wherever you call home, hope can be the difference between simply existing and truly living. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my city, it’s that life becomes infinitely richer when you’re open to seeing its hidden treasures, five items at a time.