Monday, May 3, 2010

Quality Time

Quality Time.
What a stupid, disasterous, needy love language. I want so badly to hate this, and be repulsed by it.
"You are repulsed by the things most like you."
Steph has been reading the love languages book. She's been stuck on Quality Time for a long amount of time. She said to me last night, "I'm going to say this to you, and I truly want you to think about this. I think your love language is Quality Time."
My first thought- "No. It's physical touch. You're wrong."
But then I realized I was doing exactly what she told me not to do. I wasn't thinking about it.
So I thought about it. Tears started to well up in my eyes as she looked at me. She knew I didn't know what to say, so she continued. "I thought of it, when you told me you were so excited that Chris had realized that you liked "being" dates, rather than "busy" dates. You'd rather spend a whole day at the library doing nothing, than run and be busy with everyone all day. You like the BEING."
My heart started to crumble. My walls were deminishing beneath her words.
"I think that might be mine, too," She said. We both laughed because we keep finding out more and more things about us that are so alike. "I would literally wait for my Dad to get home from work, and wait from 6 to 9, because he'd be out for that long. When we'd ask him about it, he'd shrug us off, and go read the newspaper and watch tv. That's why I hate my Dad. Mel, that's why you hate World of Warcraft."
That's when I broke. Physical touch got a reaction. My Dad would hug me, and give me a kiss on the head, and I felt special because I was the only one he'd do that with. Tears rolled down as I replayed why this made so much sense.
Quality Time.
It's why I love making things. It's why I love photos. It's why I love letters-not for the words-but for the time spent in writing it. That's why Nikki and I are so far apart, because she isn't a be-er. That's why when my Mom worked at the school, I would spend my lunches in her office instead of with my friends. That's why I'd pretend to be sick, so my Mom would come home and take care of me. That's why I'd spend every night on the edge of my parent's bed talking with them, because that was often the only time they were still. That's why the most fun I've had with Chris was the days he came out to the house, and spent all day, into the wee hours of the next morning, simply talking and laughing and doing nothing. That's why it's so hard for me to have a conversation with anyone in my family, because they can listen and do things at the same time. That's why it hurts so bad whenever someone asks the question, "Alright, are we going to do something?" or "What are we going to do now?". That's why I hate games, because that Quality Time was ruined by fighting, and that's left a scar on me. The same with cooking and baking. That's why I hated high school, because no teacher would give me the time of day. That's why I hate crowds, because I am unnoticed in them-not because I'm needy for attention, but because I want someone to look me in the eye and have a conversation with me. That's why I hate the phone, because often times people continue to do while talking to me, and I don't have their full attention. That's why Steph and I are up late every night-because we both like to be. That's why I want to mission, because it's okay to be when you need to be, and do when needed to do. That's why I love Steph doing my hair, even if sometimes she hates it.
That's why it hurts my heart that no one is willing to make the drive to come and see me. This is why I had so much fun with Wooree. This is why it's hard to be with the people that mean the most to me, because they're all at a place of doing. This is why it hurts my heart so greatly that no one is willing to come out and spend time with me, simply because the drive is so long. Maybe my standards are too high, but I would expect from my closest friends, that they would take time out of their day to come spend time with me. And no one does, even though we've told them all that our house is open, they still choose somewhere else to go, that I can't go because I can't drive and no one is willing to get me. It hurts my heart.
I won't give up trying, because I know God has placed them in my life for a reason, and I won't give that up easily. I am going to fight for that.
This is why Hosea means so much to me. Because God spends all the time in the world, just trying to get my eyes focused on Him again. Time and time again, He took me back. Eventually leading me to that desert place so He was the only one that I had.
And this is most definitely why I told myself physical touch is my love language.
Physical touch gets a reaction. Physical touch feels good to almost everyone. But that "feels good" is physical feels good, not heart feels good. And since I couldn't get a response from Quality Time, I forced myself to love physical touch, but for me it was about the reaction. Physical touch caused people to stop what their doing, and give me Quality Time.

As soon as I found this inside of me, I wanted to shove it further into myself and leave it there. My thought was, "My love language isn't Quality Time. I won't let it be Quality Time because I don't receive Quality Time."
I'm haunted by the thought of not being loved. Not that I'm needy, but, who doesn't want to feel loved by those closest to you? Not just "loved"-but deeply cared about?
But then I searched that thought deeper.
God's the only one that can give me unfailing love. And that's all I need.
So even though my first reaction was to shove it down my throat, and erase it forever-I've changed my mind.
My love language is Quality Time. And I'm going to embrace that whether I get a response or not.


Post a Comment