Recently, I had a conversation with somebody who vividly recalled a tragic moment that occurred when they were five years old.
“I was sitting in church and playing with my Mom’s arms with my fingers; drawing lines on her veins. She pushed my hand away. As soon we we were out of earshot of others, she slapped my hand [so hard] and told me:
“Stop it with the pesky love!”
He went on to chronicle how the incident impacted him for the rest of his life; developing a deep fear of being pushed away for wanting to be loved – and display it.
When you hear a story like this, you might be inclined to mentally paint the person as some mousy guy, perched in a therapists office and complaining about his hurts. He’s not. He’s a bear of a man, military veteran and seasoned in the construction industry.
His story (or bearded apperance) isn’t an anomaly – at least to me; over the years, I’ve had countless conversations with people who have shared how childhood experiences created longlasting wounds they carried long into their adult years – or ‘grown up’ years.
The older I get, the more I believe all of us are just kids that have wrestled to catch their brains/feelings up to their outward appearance.
If I’m honest with myself (and you, the reader) I often feel a lot of pain from my younger years, that I have to process and reflect on as an adult. Hurts. Fears. Anxieties. That nagging fear that nobody likes you and that I somehow stick out…that’s a blog for another time.
There are a lot of people right now walking around with deep hurts that were given to them when they were much younger. I’m one of them.
In the dating/love world, there’s a popular book that talks about “love languages”. Touch, Gifts, Quality Time, Words of Affirmation and Acts of Service.
A common question you’ll hear is:
“Whats your love language?”
Is that the right question we should be asking? I don’t think so. See, I think that everybody is born with all five of these ‘languages’ deeply emeshed in their being.
It isn’t preference, but pain that creates distinction between the languages.
In the case of my macho friend, he felt like physical touch was/is his love language; yet, wrestles to express – and receive it – because of the slap he received from his mother when he was five.
“Which of your love languages was damanged the most by others in your life”
That’s a better question to ask somebody.
What sounds better than spending time with the person you love performing acts of service for, while enjoying gifts you gave each other – adorned with letters you’ll keep for the rest of your life, after waking up and having incredible sex where you’re both left breathless?
I can’t think of many times/places I’d rather be than the above scene.
“I’m sorry…but my love language isn’t….”
I’ve never seen a child that doesn’t long for love, care, touch and attention from their parents – unless this natural yearning was beaten out of them by somebody who didn’t have their best interests in mind.
A few months ago, I sat down and thought about the way that Atlas reaches out for affection during bedtime. At the end of the day, I’m usally on my last leg of energy and cuddling is the last thing that I want to do with a child that’s used every drop of my time, energy and attention that day. However, I realized something important:
It’s not about me or what I want in that moment. It’s about what Atlas needs. So, I distilled down the interaction to something that I could understand and follow:
Whenever Atlas wants affection – never shut him down. Greet him with it. Celebrate his desire to be close and never make him feel bad for needing affection.
Often, he’ll say “hug” or “I’m scared” and that’s when I open up my arm and tell him:
“Come to big Daddy!”
He’ll snuggle up with me and I hug him like a little teddy bear.
A few nights ago, this scene repeated itself. While I was hugging him, Atlas says:
“Hug.”
“Atlas, I’m hugging you already. How can I hug you more?”
He quickly replied:
“You could be an octopus. Then you could hug me more!”
There’s a lot of wisdom and childish beauty in this statement. When it comes to love and affection, children are a lot like sponges; they’ll soak up everything you give them and still have room/ideas for more.
I think that deep down, all of us want to be loved this way – like an octopus.
I do.
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