My love language is 100% G I F T S.
I wish it was something a bit more noble like acts of service.
Some people are a mix of things like my son Ari, he straddles comfortably between words of affirmation with quality time and put together makes the sweetest boy you have ever met.
Myself on the other hand, I LOVE GETTING NEW OLD UGLY RECYCLED VINTAGE PRICEY SPICEY SHIT EVERYTHING. I’m still not completely certain how it works or where it comes from but its the magic floating in the air after the transaction itself that I don’t know how to explain properly without sounding like a spoiled rat.
*call me Ratticus*
The thought, the act, and the energy that lingers in the air after the “gift” is presented is such a powerful space.
I feel loved here. It could very well stem from my childhood and the lack of basic necessities ranging from clean drinking water to hand me downs till I landed my first job at 14.
Whatever it is, this space is where I melt and flourish.
My favourite gifts are the ones from nicawâsimisak, usually come in the form of love notes, a cup of sugar with a few drips of coffee and hugs where they squeeze me the hardest their little bodies allow.
Priceless. Wholesome. My kids speak my love language fluently. I pray I am doing the same for them.
I haven’t always been in a place to give as much as I have been given throughout my life. Matter of fact I was quite the piece of garbage for a good chunk of my teens slash early adulthood and regretfully hurt a lot of people that genuinely loved me.
Identifying how I interpret love has been so valuable when it comes to my personal healing journey. Sorting out those confusing tough spaces in my life has been the best most painful process.
I know two things: I need to be the best me, for me. Second, both giving and receiving has introduced me to a new version of myself each time. Theres more than enough to give, theres more than enough for everyone. Give what you can.. sometimes thats a smile, sometimes thats monetary, most times it makes all the difference.
