You are NOT Special

 

Worthiness was not my birthright.

The light, the heart of me that could illuminate the world got shrouded in doubt.

When you are

NOT SPECIAL

you are alone. You trust no one, because to trust is to risk. You build walls.

 

As a child, I fought hard to be worthy, but I was just

NOT SPECIAL.

I wanted to use my life to serve the world, but made terrible choices. Stifled my blessings.

More reminders of unworthiness. Undeserving of joy.

 

It was time to take responsibility.

All life is energy.

We beam our signals like radio frequencies, transmitting responsibility for our own lives.

And it was time for me to put aside that I was

NOT SPECIAL.

Your life is speaking to you. What is it saying?

It told me to

Breathe Again.

 

Just because you deeply desire an exceptional life.

And he was the first person to feel that breath.

Just because he was lonely

And you were there,

 

And he used phrases like “kindred spirit,”

And words like “brilliant,”

 

Those are words.

This is what writers do.

Use words to elicit feelings.

Just because he wrote things that made you feel special,

YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL.

 

You’re just someone he wrote to. That week.

In the middle of who he wrote. Last week. And next week.

 

YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL

You were just New.

 

Those who feel unworthy habitually relate to our inner life

in the same way that others attended to us.

We disconnect and banish parts of ourselves.

You never completely rid yourself of this, but in good times,

you allow yourself to dance with it.

And there is joy.

 

But then –

Someone shows up to remind you, and take you back

To the place where the pain and memory of old experiences reside.

And, past reality IS present.

The emotional self does not live in linear time. “Then” becomes “now.”

 

 

I kept trying to rewrite this script

So that you would not become a filter through which I saw the world.

And set myself up to be reminded repeatedly. That I was

NOT SPECIAL. 

I only know now how bad it was

By how hard it is for me to breathe while I write this.

“I don’t treat you the way I treat my real friends.”

And now I clench my fists just to feel my fingertips

To make sure I exist.

 

 

Now, when I interact with others,

I rarely see the potential for love, only for hurt and rejection.

How ironic that you are healed.

The conscienceless of the Internet was the perfect way

to not hear the pain in my voice.

I’m building walls again.

I’m raw and broken.

Even the slightest touch can trigger waves and waves of overwhelming pain

from your ‘Hit and Run’ blog attack.

Yes. Roadkill.

The perfect description of what this feels like.

 

I was strong, but my strength was in my empathy. Once I was not allowed to feel, I became weak.

I was beautiful, but not allowed to heal. I became filled with emotional waste. Ugly and sick.

I had purpose; to breathe and reflect feelings. My purpose was invalidated. I am unimportant, superfluous, diminished.

I was powerful, but my power was guided by my purpose. Once that was gone, my power became self-destructive.

I was capable of great love. I was not allowed to be heard. My love got lost in the maze of my subconscious, buried under piles of unhealed pain.

 

 

I understand the manifestation of grace and God, so I know that there are no coincidences.

I was meant to be reminded

That I am

NOT SPECIAL.

 

Don’t ever believe that it is only our “choice” to feel;

That others cannot make you feel a certain way.

Maya Angelou, one of the great writers of contemporary literature, said:

“I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did,

but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

 

I live out of that place everyday.

So many months where I was made to feel

YOU ARE NOT SPECIAL

A lesson I won’t soon forget.

 

 

 

 

In my heart, I’m listening. 

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Things are never what they seem.  Please be careful,
Samara.