"To be heard is so close to being loved that for the average person they are almost indistinguishable." ~ David W. Augsburger
The five love languages - a framework for how we give and receive affection, created by psychologist Gary Chapman in 1992 – include quality of time, gifts, acts of service, affirmative words, and physical touch.
As much as I love receiving all five demonstrations of caring, I always felt that my truest love language was missing from this list.
My love language is curiosity. I show others that I care about them by asking questions, learning their experiences and being hungry for the essence of them amid the small talk and courtesies. I want to see them for who they are and know what makes them tick. And I want to be loved like that too.
Like many people who recover from people, I spent most of my life adjusting to the moods and needs of others, used to relationships in which I saw everything but rarely felt seen.
While I know that human lust is usually an outdated coping mechanism from childhood, I also know that my ability to get curious about others is my superpower. Regardless of where you come from, it's as much a part of me as my eye color or my heritage.
This desire to understand others deeply is a quality in me that I love, something that I do for myself as well as for others.
For years, my curiosity often led me to play the role of confidante and cheerleader in my relationships. Friends, partners and acquaintances said I was an "exceptional listener". And while I appreciated their praise, I often felt that people valued my camaraderie as they valued a finely polished mirror – a smooth surface on which to admire their own reflection.
As I've gotten older, I've found that I'm no longer willing to be part of one-way relationships where I know others inside out, but they consider me a foreign language. I want a person who can put their ego aside and get curious. I want someone who is eager to map my terrain, who climb the peaks and sprint into the rugged valleys of my stories, who overturn stones for what lies beneath.
As someone who has spent much of their life feeling invisible, I notice when someone really tries to see me.
I notice when people look me straight in the eye and ask: "But really – how are you today?"
I notice when people share a story and then pause and ask, "Have you ever seen something like this?"
I notice when others are holding space as comfortably as they are taking up space.
I notice when people treat conversations as opportunities for co-creation rather than pedestals from which to preach.
I also notice when people ask superficial questions and moments later check their phones or stare into space.
I notice when others use my stories as a stepping stone to jump into their own experiences.
I notice when I am repeatedly interrupted by someone who likes to talk so much that he cannot believe making room for others.
I notice when people use me as a soundboard or as a therapist without mutuality in sight.
Over time I have learned to leave these relationships behind me. They energetically exhaust me and by participating in them I teach myself that I am no longer worthy.
I clearly remember a friendship in which my body longed for a two-hour nap after every afternoon together. I remember other connections that made me feel sanctified and invaded, like a withered plant that hadn't seen sunshine in weeks.
Ultimately, it was my responsibility to change this pattern and make room in my life for healthier connections. I could continue to feel bullied by one-sided relationships, or I could leave them behind and trust that I deserve it better – and that it exists better.
We create these healthier, reciprocal connections with by clearly communicating what we need to feel seen. The love language framework is so valuable because it gives us an easy, casual way to do it. After all, we can't expect others to read our minds and automatically know what's best for us.
That's why I learned early on to say to friends and potential partners: “My love language is curiosity. I feel most loved when others ask questions and want to understand me. “By offering this simple truth, we are giving others the information they need to love us well. Whether or not they choose to act on this information is up to them.
When we find ourselves in one-sided relationships, we have to be ready to let go of them and accept the initial loneliness that arises when we leave the old while waiting for the new. We have to learn to trust that we are interesting, that our experiences are valuable, and that our words are just as deserving of the spot as others'.
With every new relationship that creates space for the essence of us, these truths become more believable.
About Hailey Magee
Hailey Magee is a Codependency Recovery Coach who helps individuals conquer, please, set boundaries and master the art of telling their truth. She has worked with over 100 clients from the US, Canada, Ireland, France, South Africa and other countries. Sign up for a free consultation to learn how coaching can help you live from a place of authenticity and inner freedom. You can follow Hailey on Facebook and Instagram or visit www.haileymagee.com.
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