The Language of Love With an Accent

 oh, but they can!


When repeated abuse,  trauma or neglect result in a baby, toddler or young child not getting the healthy affection and love they needed growing up, the naturally regulated, stress responses in the brain do not develop.  And neither do the social and communication aspects that help things like empathy, social longing and sense of belonging and attachment become 2nd nature in us. The child grows up "missing something" which can best be described as a sense of connection. 

I have known this well...this missing something.

Sometimes, particularly when I'm stressed or fearful, I still fight this battle.

And yet,  I've always had hope, and have indeed seen healing...huge healing.   I can't say that the healing is done, and that I've reached my shalom, that place of peace when you know you're exactly who God intended you to be all along before you got interrupted.  And that's not to say He was surprised by the interruption, in fact, I know that I know He'll redeem it, bringing each of us to our shalom, turning the interruption to His purpose and our good.   But I can say that the fact that I'm still healing and being redeemed doesn't matter anymore...I'm in no rush and neither is God.  We have eternity together, He and I.   Besides, I've come to appreciate my scars, and understand and accept how they are a part of who I am. 

Maybe I'm not as engaging and warm, communicative and socially vibrant as I'd like to be.  And I'm ok with that.

Maybe I still have my days trying to figure out who I am, and I'm ok with that too.  And maybe there are others day when I feel like I'm performing.  And that too I can accept.  In fact, I've come to recognize that what I have is a thing called resilience, and it helps me to flow back and forth between the woundedness and the healing without beating myself up over how far I haven't come and without getting all prideful over how far I have.  I've come to accept that I have my bad days and my good days, and God loves who I am when I show up from either.  If you were to secretly watch me on my bad days, you might catch me staring off into space, looking either vacant or sad.  I do that sometimes, even after all these years.  And when I need to, I can put on a social persona and respond appropriately because I taught myself over the years what is appropriate and what is not...but I fear that deep down inside, if you really, really, paid attention, you might sense in your gut that there's still something awkward or not quite natural about the way I interact.  And I'm ok with that too.

Truth be told, I've learned to mimic many of the normal social interactive cues ... watching TV and reading a lot as a kid taught me what was expected  -  but I've never felt naturally drawn to being social...I rarely feel drawn to physical touch or other nurturing behaviors, not out of fear but out of awkwardness....sure, I hug, but have never truly felt me in my skin,  comfortable with it.   But I choose to do it.  Because above all else, I want to connect with you and to love.  I've always wanted to love, like Jesus loves, unconditionally, without fear, without restraint. 

I used to question this longing to connect and love - why, when I don't feel drawn to others, do I feel drawn to want to love others?   Wouldn't it be easier to stay in isolation?  My daydream as a child was to live alone in a lighthouse with a huge library full of books...on my bad days, I still go there sometimes.  But now it's not that important to know the answer to the why,  other than I'm content that Jesus in me is winning this one...in fact, He's won it already.

While I may still occasionally step into the shadow of disrupted nurturing, I just as quickly can dance back into the light of Jesus love, knowing that He is above all, my Redeemer.  And my Teacher, teaching me a new language of love.  But like any adult who has to learn a new language late in life,  because of my childhood, I speak my particular love language with an accent.

And I'm ok with that too.

(the concept of speaking a love language with an accent is borrowed from "The Boy Who was Raised as a Dog" by Dr. Bruce Perry)


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