Today, I received a small token of appreciation from someone I volunteer with. Just a little gesture — some sweets and the kind of tea I like. But it hit me harder than I expected.

I nearly cried.

And with that almost-crying came a wave of shame. Not because of the gift — but because of how much it meant to me. Because it quietly highlighted something I’ve spent most of my life avoiding: how rare it’s been to feel seen in this way. How starved I’ve been of this kind of care. How I used to brush off small acts of kindness because I didn’t know how to receive them. I wasn’t in a place that felt safe enough to let them in.

But today, I did.
And it meant everything.

It’s strange how something so small — a cup of tea, remembered from months ago — can soften a person in a way that years of effort can’t. Because it wasn’t about the tea. It was about being noticed. Held in someone else’s mind. Offered something without needing to prove I deserved it.

That’s what undid me.

There’s a grief in it too. A quiet mourning for all the times I didn’t get that. For all the versions of me that had to carry on without it. And maybe even for the times I was offered care, but wasn’t able to trust it enough to let it land.

But if there’s one thing I’m learning — it’s that being able to receive care is its own kind of milestone. It’s a sign that I’m softening. That I’m safe enough now to let kindness touch me, even if it still stings on the way in.

So this blog post is my thank-you. Not just to the person who gave the gift — but to the part of me that finally felt worthy enough to receive it.

That’s the real gift today.