returning the gift of being gifted
This is me, reporting live from the chrysalis — that sticky, tough part of the growth spiral where old narratives dissolve, and new ways of being take form. This time, the transformation is centered on shedding the weight of "Special," "Gifted," and all the identities wrapped in shiny gold foil.
Let’s say you grew up in a chaotic home. Maybe emotional attunement was rare, at best. Maybe the energy in your house was unpredictable, critical, or downright explosive. And maybe, in the midst of all that, the warmest, safest moments you had were the ones where you were being celebrated—when your talents, wins, or report cards brought a rare sense of feeling seen.
Maybe the straight A’s guaranteed that no one would flip out at you. Maybe they became a thin paper shield, giving you a moment of reprieve. Maybe you kept hearing, “You’re special! You should share your voice. You’re destined for greatness.” And it made you feel real—something every child is always, in some way, searching for.
But childhood attachment strategies don’t always translate well into adult life. You might have expected that same warmth to follow you into your twenties and thirties. Instead, you find yourself continuously striving to be a useful friend and taking on countless extra-career projects, clinging to the “cool” medal awarded around your neck.
Yet the adult world doesn’t hand out scratch-and-sniff stickers like you thought it would. You’re staring at this quarter’s life report card, and it’s blank—so blank that your inner critic has taken it upon itself to grade you with harsh red ink.
You thought this was the part where you’d finally “arrive.” But instead, you’re faced with questions that can’t be answered with a trophy or a gold star:
Can I let go of the need to be celebrated and find joy in simply being?
How can I cultivate connection and love without attaching it to performance?
What does it mean to live a meaningful life, not because of accolades but because of authenticity?
Who am I if I am not doing or doing for others?
Recently, I found myself spacing out, watching the sun pour his orange into the ocean. I had a realization: The warm celebration you’re seeking exists in just you, being. Not producing, not excelling, not dazzling — simply existing. Your presence is actually enough.
Maybe the report card is blank because there’s nothing to grade anymore. Maybe it’s time to crumple it up, throw it away, and let the warmth of being alive be the celebration.
