Recently one of my favorite friends bought me a birthday present. When she handed it to me, she excitedly proclaimed, “I’ve finally figured out how to buy you gifts, Anne. I have chosen to buy you something that you might like, but that I will definitely like. Then, if you don’t like it, I can keep it for myself!” Immediately I felt like such an asshole, but what she was saying was a great idea because I’m terrible at receiving gifts.
Gift giving is not my love language: it’s not the way that I prefer to show or receive love. Instead, physical touch, verbal affirmations, and quality time have always been my preferences. I don’t attach much sentimental value to material goods and have surprised my friends often during my material purging periods, which happen every few years or so when I decide to reinvent myself yet again- I sell or give away a bunch of shit that represented my old identity, but no longer suits my new one. If someone does buy me a gift, I genuinely appreciate it because it means that they were thinking of me, but often unashamedly return things that I don’t want or won’t wear due to my hatred of clutter. I will keep the gift if they actually buy me something that I really like. However, I have very specific aesthetic tastes and generally rather expensive ones, so I don’t expect my loved ones to ever actually fulfill the expectation to give me the perfect external gift.
Instead, I ask friends to share their internal gifts with me. During celebrations like birthdays and holidays, I simply ask friends to come and be with me- go to the beach and have a bonfire, or accompany me on a hike, or share a nice meal together. These moments are like gold to me and I am lucky to be rich with them.
As 2018 comes to a close, I am reflecting both on how much I have been gifted this year, as well as how difficult it has been for me to receive these gifts. In January, I moved out of my apartment in San Francisco and was invited to live with friends in Half Moon Bay. I was gifted my own room and an ocean view for a fraction of the market cost. I was gifted dinners by friends, clothing, and loaned money to be paid back “whenever.” I was gifted a trip to El Salvador to celebrate a reunion with old friends, a summer in Washington DC, a trip to Maine, and another to North Carolina. I was gifted stays at a beautiful bed and breakfast in Oregon as I transitioned from one season to the next. I was gifted 8 weeks in Mountain View and nightly dinners for an exchange of basically nothing. A friend even drove me to Seattle under the condition that we would go visit her sister in Idaho on the way, which turned into its own gift. When we arrived to my new home, she said her goodbyes, left me with some startup cash to help get me settled, and now FaceTimes me almost daily. I have been gifted jobs, and journals, and jewels from other loved ones. I have been gifted conferences, retreats, and consultations. I have been gifted immensely this year. And how have I felt on the receiving end of all these gifts? Guilty. All year I have wrestled with feelings of lack of self-worth and shame that I was asking too much and not giving enough.
As a childhood incest and illness survivor, I have always struggled to receive. Not because I didn’t want or need to, but because receiving always came at a cost. My father and I had an unwritten contract, a survival exchange, where he would provide me food, shelter, and an education if I met his sexual needs. My mother and I were also in an unwritten contract bound to the expectation that if I attended to her emotional needs, then my needs would be met in return. Naturally, I built an external identity of stubborn independence believing that I needed no one and could do everything on my own.
When the memories of abuse resurfaced around my 24th birthday, I asked my family for some space from meeting their needs for just a little while so that I could have time to process. The response was outrage. I was called, emailed, and direct messaged about my responsibility to my family, about how much I owed them because of all that they had done for me. The ultimate guilt trip. No gift was ever freely given, but instead was laden with heavy expectations. So I left them and sought to build a life by myself, while recovering.
At my 31st birthday over a year ago, I had burned myself out. I had pushed myself too hard personally through trauma healing and professionally in career development. I quit my job with no savings and no backup plan. For the first time in my life, I was ready to admit that I couldn’t in fact live life all by myself. That I couldn’t manage a fast-paced career, healing, and other life responsibilities all on my own. It took me 6 months to let go of the lifestyle that I had built around this prestigious career and identity, all the beautiful furniture, my car, my lovely apartment gone, so that I could simply make sense of what I would do next, of who I would be next, since I couldn’t do or be those things that I was always expected to be.
I failed and I failed hard. I felt as if I were back in the same body that had just discovered that the abuse occurred almost 8 year prior. I have been depressed, anxious, and tired. I have wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day and give up on all help and all hope. The need to make money and support myself kept me going. The community that I had worked hard to build since I walked away from the unrealistic expectations of my family were ready to receive me freely. They gifted me with everything mentioned above and little by little I allowed myself to receive it. Little by little I let go of the guilt of my childhood. Little by little I learned that it was OK to have needs and that I could ask for help without being ashamed. Little by little I learned to receive with gratitude, as my community showed me how to give with freedom.
And in all this surprised receiving, I seem to have accidentally landed in the place that I’ve always wanted to be: a life where I don’t have to work so hard, where expectations are realistic and accountability is safe, where the exchange is fair, and any given gifts are free. I can stay if I’d like and go if I’d like. I can say yes if I’d like and no if I’d like. I can receive fully and give freely. As I build a new life in Seattle, I am aware that I have never had less external things in my entire life: I am watching my bank account carefully, I am shopping at thrift stores, and acquiring free assets from my neighbors. I have never been poorer in material goods, but never been richer in spiritual ones.
In 2018, I have experienced authentic abundance. For the first time, I am living with a community willing to give so much simply because I am present to them. Simply because somehow who I am has touched them, or affirmed them, or brought to their lives a certain quality that they didn’t have before I was in it. They have shown me love in the ways that they were able, and I have returned it in my own language.
As we approach the season of giving and the closing of 2018, I am full of thanks for all of the gifting that I have been on the receiving end of this year. In case you were curious, I did keep the birthday present that my friend gave me at the beginning of this story: a beautiful nude scarf that will serve me so well in chilly Seattle. One day, I hope that I will be able to give back freely in all the ways that I have so gratefully received.