Tag: beauty

Stop Touching Everything!

As an adult I learned of a “personality test” that helped me figure out what my “Love Language” is. Most of you who know me (or know someone who knows me) knows what I’m talking about. But if you don’t, read on.

There are 5 love languages: Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, and Physical Touch. Whichever of these languages you speak, you probably are very good at living them. Typically, if your love language is Receiving Gifts, you give them as well as you receive them. If Words of Affirmation make you feel loved, you probably affirm the people in your life. You get the idea.

There is also the possibility that you have been deeply scarred by the wrong use/negative end of the language. If you speak Quality Time then the lack of it as a child can be detrimental to your feelings of self worth. If you cherish Acts of Service but had to fend for yourself as a child, then you are probably living the polar opposite of your language.

My Love Language is Physical Touch. In my early childhood I experienced the very negative end of my love language. When I was adopted at the age of 6, I had to learn to adapt to healthy forms of touch. I think I was very resistant to ANY touch though, because I don’t remember much of it, although it may have been there. My memory is very faulty. If I had to explain it, I’d say that if the situation wasn’t hugely life altering, I didn’t focus on the event. So much of my life, to this day, is wiped clean in my memories because it wasn’t earth shattering. I remember the important stuff, like the birth of my children. But when we went to the bay and swam that one time and it was so great, you know? No. I don’t remember. So, basically, my life is great! How can I be bogged down by that one time that kid was mean to me, if I don’t remember it? And I have recovered so much from the early trauma, thanks to Mom who was my counselor, that I operate in my love language in a healthy way.

Still, there are some memories that hang in there. Like Dad tossing me in the air, or Mama giving me a squeeze. But I think, because they are associated with touch, that is why they stick. Including the memory (well, memories) of my mom saying things like “Do you have to touch every one”, “Quit touching those”, and “Stop touching everything.” (Sorry Mom 😉). I have to say, that even as an adult, I still catch myself running my hand along a clothes rack or just touching that breakable thing that I’m afraid to pick up. I loved my kids when they were little (and babysitting now) because I love hugs and snuggles and face patting.

So when I took this test (which you can find here http://www.5lovelanguages.com/) I was not surprised by the outcome. There were other categories that definitely made sense to me, but I knew physical touch would be the main one. It’s not that you can’t operate in more than one area. In fact the better rounded you are the closer the gaps between categories. But, even now, if you think about it there is probably one strikingly obvious answer. My question, though, is this: if you have an obvious answer, whether because you took the test or because one of those categories stands out to you, do you have childhood memories that reinforced your love language? Like my need to touch, then and today, do you have similar experiences? Whether it is receiving gifts, words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service, or physical touch, do you have moments that stand out like that?

To take it a step further, do you know your spouse’s love language? Your child’s? What have you done today to speak their language? Have they spoken yours? Language, you know, is a two way street. One needs to speak so another can understand and vice versa.

Let’s go one step farther. Your closest circle of friends. Do you know their language? Have you tried to learn? What makes them tick? I confess, I am no giant in this area. I have a lot to learn about my friends and loved ones. Hopefully, you are farther along than I am. But I’m getting there. And that’s how we’ll build community.

Beautiful You 

The above is an excerpt from Sir Edward Richardson’s Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded. They come from a father admonishing his daughter against pride in/becoming puffed up over her beauty, a thing she had no hand in.

When I read this bit, I was taken back to a poem I wrote in high school. I called it Beautiful to You. In it, I cried out to God, asking him to make me beautiful in His eyes. To do a work on the inside, hoping it would make me more attractive on the outside. You see, I thought I was ugly. Not just ugly, but the ugliest thing imaginable. And there were so many who just reaffirmed that. I didn’t realize how false that was until I hit adulthood.

I fell in love for the first time at 19. What a change flattery can make! Then I learned that the only interest that first love ever had in me was based entirely on my looks and how they might help him. That was just as devastating as growing up believing I was ugly. And I saw, quickly, that I could “have no praise due to me for it”.

In high school, I cried out to God for beauty. As a young adult I alternately gave Him thanks for my looks and was angry for my looks. In the end I just wanted Him to see me as beautiful, and forget the people. I yearned to hear from the One who made me. All those others who had convinced me that I was ugly, wounded me. But I would find my solace in God. And so I developed a relationship with the One who made me.

I’m sure that many of those who called me names, who went out of their way to be mean, to hurt, to laugh at me never believed that they were just expanding an already big problem for me. I know for a fact that some of them believed I thought too much of myself (I did say before that I worked very hard NOT to be so shy and introverted, that gets confused with stuck-up a lot). But the damage was done regardless.

If I could instruct every single child on the planet in one thing, it would be this: watch your words. Words DO hurt. Words can cause irreparable damage. If I had not turned to God, I think depression would have taken hold of me to such a degree that I would not have been able to escape it. And while children are mean enough to their peers, adults do just as much damage with a careless word or thoughtless tease. It seems crazy to me the number of adults in my own life who hurt me with their words. (On a side note, there is another post coming concerning the notion that, come on, they are just words.)

Let every person tell every child: You are beautiful. You are precious. You are worthy. You are loved. These should be standard phrases in the house of a child. Sadly, that is not true. If you spend any time with a child, tell them these things. But also, tell yourself these things. You need to hear it, too. Whether you are 5, 15, or 95, YOU need to hear it! You are beautiful! I thank God for a mother who encouraged me to think for myself, who gave me support, and had I confessed these feelings to her as a child, I have no doubt she would have fought like a mama bear protecting her young to keep anyone from saying anything amiss. (Unfortunately, this is probably her first time knowing it.) But I came to grips with my feelings of inadequacy, where my looks were concerned, years ago. I now hold no illusions about myself. I look like me. I look like God created me to look. It is neither beauty nor beastly. It is the me He made. And I am good with that.

If you are not good with who you are, are not happy with the Creator’s design of you, take it up with Him. He won’t change how you look, but He will change how you feel about it. In the meantime, have a listen . . .