I must admit, I was really surprised by what the book had to offer. In a totally non-judgmental, non-religious way, Gary Chapman talks about the five languages of love: Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Gifts, Acts of Service, and Physical Touch. His premise is that people give and receive love, filling "love tanks", in usually one of these basic languages. (Some people are bi-lingual, but I'll talk more about that later.) The idea is that partners need to receive love in the way that's wired into them, and that they don't get it when it's spoken in the wrong languages.
For example, if you innately receive love through Acts of Service, you get it when your partner does things for you, like mowing the grass or cleaning the house or washing your car (an example Chapman uses quite frequently). If your beloved is always bringing you gifts but never hangs that beautiful family portrait, it may not mean very much to you and doesn't fill your love tank.
I read through his descriptions and examples of each love language, plus ways to go about expressing love in the respective manner. There's a profile at the end of the book, kind of like a Cosmo Quiz. Turns out I'm bilingual in Words of Affirmation and Quality Time, though even the latter seems to be specific to Quality Conversation and feeling like I'm being understood. The two languages are of virtually equal importance to me, though Phsyical Touch is also, to a lesser degree. Gifts and Acts of Service don't mean a whole hell of a lot in my world.
I passed the book to DH, who read it in an afternoon and completed his own profile. I was a little surprised by his results, which I won't disclose because that's not my confidence to share. What I can say is that it gave us both a lot to think about, as far as how to approach each other. It was interesting, to say the least.
So I started thinking about how I receive love from other people, how what they do or don't do applies to these ideas of Words of Affirmation and Quality Conversation. I examined friendships and past loves and familial interactions. I also started to look at how I approach myself, of how and what I do fills or empties my love tank. (Yes, it's a somewhat silly expression, and it's easy to go with innuendo, but we're all adults here. Kind of.)
Absolem yelled at me recently, asking if I was really as insecure as I was acting. The answer is a resounding YES! I am horribly insecure in who I am and have a very difficult time seeing my own worth, seeing the value of my central role in my broader life. I need to hear from other people— and somewhat regularly depending on the relationship—that I matter, that I am important to them, and sometimes that has to include the why of that importance. I need private conversations with the people closest to me, the intimacy of giving and receiving deep truths and shared confidences that connect us infinitely. Those dark and quiet moments, when there's nothing else in the world but those words passing between us and the emotion they contain, that's what drives me and makes me feel complete. That's what shows me I am loved and helps me explore the depths of my own heart and head and to so tentatively share those expanses with someone else.
I think, in part, it's why I write, especially why I blog the way I do. Muchness and Light was born from my own need to discover myself again, but there's certainly something telling about the public way in which I do it. My love tank is filled when I get a response, when people tell me how I've touched a nerve in them. It's not that I'm opposed to criticism, though it's honestly only happened a couple of times. But it does my psyche good to explain myself as thoroughly as possible and to receive in turn the affirmation that I'm understood and that it was good or beneficial to someone else.
I think this also goes a long way toward explaining my desire for experience and understanding of it. Yes, I am reactionary at times, then overthink a situation sometimes the point of exhaustion, but that process gives me time to really grasp what's happening. It often provides me with profound insights into my own actions, as well as the actions of others.
My love ("Addiction," said Absolem) of words and understanding may well be one of the things that explains my deep love of music. Lots of studies have shown that thrilling music causes a release of dopamine into the brain, the same neurotransmitter released as a response to pleasure from food or sex or any number of other things. For me, music isn't about the instrumentation, though that's certainly a requirement of being, you know, music. That coupled with poignant lyrics that make me think someone else gets it, tacked onto a pleasing voice that I can sing along with, is undeniably, overwhelmingly pleasurable for me—it fills my love tank in a way nothing else can.
No one was more surprised than I that The 5 Love Languages struck a chord. It's given me a whole new way to look at my relationships, most especially with my Self. I'm pretty adept at finding my own quality time (again, ignore the innuendo), but I'm not so good at affirming Stephanie. In some ways, I still need that from the other people in my life, especially those I hold so close to my heart. But now, maybe, I won't be so reticent to tell myself that I'm okay, or even that I'm good. Whereas before it just seemed egocentric, it now seems psychecentric; it's something that I need to be able to do, for your sake and for mine.
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