The Languages of Love and Apology

A short couple of years ago, I took the famous 5 Languages of Love test. Well... today while going through my email, I happened upon a piece that said it had been a while and wondered if I might like to take the test again. Seeing how I have felt myself and personality shifting and changing especially over the last few months, I thought, why not?
The first time I took it, Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation tied for the highest score and seemed truly to reflect what I looked for in a person. Frankly, I didn't think it would change much. I was sure that aside from all the changes I have gone through, at least the way I interpret or feel love would stay the same.
Well, folks, apparently not. Though they still rank up there, both of my "love languages" have been ousted for something else... Quality Time. Sure--hugs are still wonderful, kisses just as much so, but TIME. Time wherein the person I am with is completely there. No distractions from the outside world. Taking the moment to actually plan out time to be spent (sometimes doing nothing but sitting and watching a movie together) takes the cake.
It's beautiful to hear that someone wants to spend time with you but so much more so when they actually do! I'm not a particularly busy person but at the very least I am aware that others have much more taking up their time (something I really should work on, I realize) and so when they give me time out of the busyness, when they allot time to me, I treat it as quite precious and priceless.
So there you have it. Love for me is spelled TIME.

The second test I took had to do with the way a person apologizes to me and it shocked me a little to discover that the Acceptance of Responsibility was far and beyond all the other options.
It's one thing to say, "I'm sorry" but when that apology is accompanied by admitting that you were either wrong or made a mistake--it resonates deeper in my mind and heart than asking for me to simply forgive you. Perhaps it is because I think so deeply about things and even deeper about those things that hurt me (maybe for the sake of self-discovery and really understanding myself so that I can help others to understand me) but I tend to go over a scenario in my mind and wonder if the person really gets that it was because I honestly believe they did something (or the lack of  doing something such as... spending TIME with me? Ah ha....)...
In short, I guess it gives me a sense of peace when they realize that they have done something that I saw as wrong and took the time to try and figure it out rather than just saying, "I don't know what I did... but sorry." When I feel something is awry, I always try to dig deeper so I can recognize what I have done wrong (and will ask if I can't come to some conclusion on my own thinking time) so that I can apologize in a full and complete way.

I'm sure bits of this aren't completely clear but I blame that entirely on the fact that I am super drained.

I Am Lying

Why do we tell people that we are fine?
It would seem as time goes by, the synonyms of fine (in good health, well, healthy, all right, fit, blooming, thriving, in good shape, etc) are being replaced with not-good-enough-but-I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it-unless-you're-the-right-person-I-would-want-to-discuss-my-life-with.
Seriously.
I do it all the time, speaking from personal experience. In fact, I even get downright agitated if the person I do NOT want to ask, "Just fine?" is the only one who asks. So often, I wish I had a sign to carry around to say, "It's you! Please talk to me! Please ask me why I'm not fantastic/wonderful/fit as a fiddle!"
I also have those moments where I am completely blunt--I say I am not well at all. Downright depressed/upset/lonely. But THEN (of course) I back it with, "but don't worry, it will pass!" What? Good golly, Miss Molly! What the heck are you doing? I ask myself.
And perhaps the answer is a bit selfish, even self-centered. But the only thing I can come up with is a desperate desire to find someone who will push and who will wonder/worry/care! enough to ask--or wait patiently until I finally pour my heart out to them.

Why do we feel the need to test people like that? Even those who, from the get go, we have already agreed either aloud or in our mutual silence that we will never expect them TO delve that deeply? To drop everything or give of their precious time to listen to us complain, moan, and cry about why life is so hard on us?
I have heard the saying quite often as of late that, "The heart wants what it wants." Stupid heart! Why will you not listen to your sensible brain? Or rather, do our hearts really "want" pain? Or are they just "asking for it" by searching for something that is just simply not to be found? "Looking for love in all the wrong places," is another popular one and one that definitely rings truer to my ear than the first.

I hurt myself often. By allowing hopes and false possibilities to spring up and fester (I say fester because oftener than not, it is more a wound than anything) I let my daydreaming heart run faster than by sensibilities can fly. And then, this heart of mine, tumbles off the cliff, plummeting to its doom before I even realize what the heck I am doing.
So. To all those who haven't, can't, or won't ever live up to the expectations that my childish, self-centered, dreamy heart decides to plant and water---I apologize and hope that you won't hold it against me forever.

I think I am done ranting now.

Love,
Me

24

It happened. 

I turned all of four and twenty this past Friday. 

I still love Disney. Junior Mints. Naps. Rereading all of my fantasy novels. 

I am continuing in my employment by Provo City... and thus, still live in Provo. 

I have put a few dreams to rest while reviving others. I have decided that in some instances it is better to take it one day at a time. Some days are harder than others. Some weeks fly more smoothly. 

At the end of the day, I am still thankful for the small things--the moments in my life when I am reminded that I am looked out for and loved. Rain still excites me. I still wish on dandelions, stars, and candles. 

I have become bolder yet kinder. More compassionate yet firm. I am finding that I care less and less about what others think about me and worry more about what makes me happy. It still hurts to see the pain in the faces of my friends and family. I still procrastinate things I shouldn't and quickly accomplish things that could be put off for a time. 

I still love to sing. Dance. Play the piano. I write when the mood strikes me rather than when my readers implore me to write. I feel bad about it. Promise I'll do better. And procrastinate again. 

I continue to prefer the forest to the city--a babbling brook happier than a busy highway. 

My heart yearns for the ocean and is called by mountains. 

I continue to love. Cry. Forgive. Complain. Shrug my shoulders. 

The struggle to keep up with laundry is real. So is going to the dentist regularly. I hate needles, blood, and hospitals. Though I have found a doctor that I really don't mind going to see when needed. 

I have discovered pita pizzas, cut down on my Pop-Tart consumption, and still eat chocolate frequently. 

For once, I am looking toward the end of winter for the sake of spring. 

But I still would rather cuddle up to watch a movie than go play football (soccer and volleyball are toss ups). I still cry when Matthew dies. I still swoon for Colonel Brandon (and Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Knightley...). 

I still need hugs like air. 

I have made new friends--lost others--kept in touch with the best. 

Life goes on. I have tacked another year onto my age. And I look forward to what is yet to come.