I'm always thankful for the stuff I went through and thankful

The words of Tyrann Mathieu resound with a spirit both humble and heroic, for he proclaims gratitude not only for triumphs but also for trials. “I’m always thankful for the stuff I went through,” he says, embracing the hardships of his past as necessary stones in the path that brought him to the present. He speaks not as one who has known only ease, but as one who has been tested in fire and emerged tempered. To be thankful even for the bad times is to recognize that suffering itself can be a teacher, and that every wound, when endured with courage, carries within it the seed of wisdom and strength.

This truth is as old as humanity itself. The ancients taught that the road to greatness is never smooth. The heroes of old—whether Gilgamesh, Odysseus, or Aeneas—were shaped as much by storms, losses, and betrayals as by victories. In the same way, Mathieu’s words remind us that life is not divided into good and bad in vain, for both light and shadow weave together to form the full tapestry of existence. To reject one half is to deny the wholeness of life; to embrace both is to walk in wisdom.

Consider the story of Nelson Mandela, who endured twenty-seven years of imprisonment. To many, those years would seem wasted, a cruel injustice. Yet Mandela himself declared that prison had refined his patience, his humility, and his vision for South Africa. Without that long night, he might not have become the leader the world would one day revere. Like Mathieu, he was thankful even for the dark times, because they forged the steel within him that no enemy could break. His suffering was not a detour from destiny—it was the very road to it.

To see hardship in this way requires courage of a different kind—the courage to look back upon sorrow without bitterness, and to see in every misstep or wound the hand of growth. This is what Tyrann Mathieu offers us: the reminder that the past, no matter how painful, is not our prison but our foundation. Each trial adds to our strength; each failure teaches resilience; each loss shapes the compassion with which we meet others. Even our mistakes are teachers, for they carve humility into our hearts and remind us that no one rises without first having fallen.

When he says he is thankful for the people he has met, he speaks to the eternal truth that every soul who enters our journey—whether friend or foe—plays a role in guiding us. The kind lift us with encouragement; the cruel sharpen us with adversity; the indifferent force us to learn self-reliance. All are teachers, though not all appear so at first. Like a sculptor who strikes marble with hammer and chisel, life sends others to shape us. The pain of the strike is real, but from it emerges form and beauty.

The lesson, then, is clear: do not despise your trials, nor curse the path that wounded your feet. Instead, give thanks for every step, every burden, every hand that touched your journey, whether in kindness or in cruelty. For all of it has conspired to make you who you are in this moment. To reject the past is to reject yourself; to embrace it is to stand whole and unashamed.

Practical wisdom flows from this teaching. Each day, practice gratitude not only for the obvious blessings but for the hidden ones—those cloaked in difficulty. When you encounter hardship, whisper to yourself, this too is shaping me. Keep a record of both joys and struggles, and when you look back, see how each played its role in guiding you. Forgive the missteps, honor the lessons, and walk forward with thankfulness.

Thus, in the spirit of Tyrann Mathieu, let us declare: We are thankful for all things, for all people, for all times. The good and the bad alike are stones laid beneath our feet, forming the road that leads us to the place where we stand. And with gratitude in our hearts, we walk forward, not weighed down by regret, but lifted by the wisdom of having lived.