Sorry for your loss of family. It took my breath away. I survived when my six year old daughter died in a car crash. Now regarding "special." To me, we are all special, but not unique. Peace, Dwight Lee Wolter
I am so sorry to hear about your daughter, I can't imagine a harder loss. And as you know, I have known loss. It's amazing what we can survive when we are pushed to.
I am always in covenant with people who cannot, for many reasons, survive such loss as we have endured. Hunks of me are still missing. I have authored two books on loneliness. I am doing quite well in many respects. But not all. My son, who is now 30, is a different person that the 10 year old who was in the car with his sister. He was badly injured. But survived. Differently. I try to live life on life's terms. That helps.
Thank you for sharing that. Yes I think fighting against life. Terms often does more damage than accepting. But I know that looks different for all of us and can feel and possibly hard.
Thank you for naming what it feels like when someone calls you “special” and it touches both the wound and the wisdom. Your words reminded me of the younger me who wanted to be everyone’s everything… and the woman I am now, who lets love land without bracing.
I love that this also explores the true affection and care a therapist can hold for a client, even if the client is one of many; it doesn't diffuse the relationship. Thank you for sharing.
This is beautiful, and deeply human, which frankly makes me suspicious because most of us can barely manage to text back. Hearing the word “special” twice in a week from people who actually know your history is like getting upgraded to first class without asking. You sit there wondering if it’s a mistake or if the universe finally read your file.
What hits hardest here isn’t the word itself, it’s the evolution behind it. As kids, “special” is basically emotional currency. We scramble for it like it’s on sale. But adulthood does the uncomfortable thing of teaching us that being special because we’re performing is just a fancier version of hiding. You spent years learning to be a curated edition of yourself for other people, and now you’re getting called special for doing the opposite. That’s not just growth, that’s a full software update.
The part that stands out most is how these two people see you. Not the polished you, not the “Surface You,” but the one who walked through loss, sat with conflict, stopped running from hard conversations, and actually came back stronger. Being recognized for who you are instead of who you’ve pretended to be is a kind of miracle that doesn’t need a burning bush. It just needs two humans paying attention.
You earned this, not by auditioning for anyone’s affection but by living in a way that doesn’t require a spotlight to feel real. If that’s not special, I don’t know what is.
And here, my tears again. Thank you for this. It is amazing how different it feels to be called special when you are really being yourself. It changes it from painful to beautiful.
This reflection feels like someone opening their heart and letting you sit inside it for a while. The way the author describes being called “special” is not about flattery it’s about healing old wounds that once made love feel conditional. You can feel the ache of that teenage girl, longing to be seen, and the quiet joy of the adult finally hearing the words she needed. It’s not just about being loved it’s about being loved as you are. No performance. No masks. Just truth. And in that truth, something shifts. You realise that being special isn’t about standing out it’s about being held, gently, by those who truly see you.
This distills my words down to exactly what is most important. Being special means being seen and accepted when you allow yourself to be fully vulnerable.
You’re speaking my language, friend.
Thank you for reading and showing up here. We can be in anti crisis together.
Sorry for your loss of family. It took my breath away. I survived when my six year old daughter died in a car crash. Now regarding "special." To me, we are all special, but not unique. Peace, Dwight Lee Wolter
I am so sorry to hear about your daughter, I can't imagine a harder loss. And as you know, I have known loss. It's amazing what we can survive when we are pushed to.
I am always in covenant with people who cannot, for many reasons, survive such loss as we have endured. Hunks of me are still missing. I have authored two books on loneliness. I am doing quite well in many respects. But not all. My son, who is now 30, is a different person that the 10 year old who was in the car with his sister. He was badly injured. But survived. Differently. I try to live life on life's terms. That helps.
Thank you for sharing that. Yes I think fighting against life. Terms often does more damage than accepting. But I know that looks different for all of us and can feel and possibly hard.
Thank you for naming what it feels like when someone calls you “special” and it touches both the wound and the wisdom. Your words reminded me of the younger me who wanted to be everyone’s everything… and the woman I am now, who lets love land without bracing.
I could not love this comment more. The idea that it touches both the wound and the wisdom lands hard. Thank you for this.
I love that this also explores the true affection and care a therapist can hold for a client, even if the client is one of many; it doesn't diffuse the relationship. Thank you for sharing.
Absolutely. I had to learn it as a therapist to really believe it, but it is absolutely true.
This is beautiful, and deeply human, which frankly makes me suspicious because most of us can barely manage to text back. Hearing the word “special” twice in a week from people who actually know your history is like getting upgraded to first class without asking. You sit there wondering if it’s a mistake or if the universe finally read your file.
What hits hardest here isn’t the word itself, it’s the evolution behind it. As kids, “special” is basically emotional currency. We scramble for it like it’s on sale. But adulthood does the uncomfortable thing of teaching us that being special because we’re performing is just a fancier version of hiding. You spent years learning to be a curated edition of yourself for other people, and now you’re getting called special for doing the opposite. That’s not just growth, that’s a full software update.
The part that stands out most is how these two people see you. Not the polished you, not the “Surface You,” but the one who walked through loss, sat with conflict, stopped running from hard conversations, and actually came back stronger. Being recognized for who you are instead of who you’ve pretended to be is a kind of miracle that doesn’t need a burning bush. It just needs two humans paying attention.
You earned this, not by auditioning for anyone’s affection but by living in a way that doesn’t require a spotlight to feel real. If that’s not special, I don’t know what is.
And here, my tears again. Thank you for this. It is amazing how different it feels to be called special when you are really being yourself. It changes it from painful to beautiful.
While I say
Your writings are a favorite of mine
I have to admit,
Sometimes the title of the piece
Sets me off “processing”
Going inward with
What comes up.
That is so special tears roll.
You connect me to deeper me
I guess that makes “us” an alchemical
“special” of sorts, Connection
across the random platforms of life.
Thank you!!! 😊
Thank YOU! Yes, we have become a special something. I smile every time I see you on my notifications.
This reflection feels like someone opening their heart and letting you sit inside it for a while. The way the author describes being called “special” is not about flattery it’s about healing old wounds that once made love feel conditional. You can feel the ache of that teenage girl, longing to be seen, and the quiet joy of the adult finally hearing the words she needed. It’s not just about being loved it’s about being loved as you are. No performance. No masks. Just truth. And in that truth, something shifts. You realise that being special isn’t about standing out it’s about being held, gently, by those who truly see you.
This distills my words down to exactly what is most important. Being special means being seen and accepted when you allow yourself to be fully vulnerable.
Thank you so much:)