I've had a very privileged life. I grew up in the States with somewhat wealthy parents, access to a plethora of extracurricular activities, a top-tier education, delicious food on the table, a large house within a safe, nestled community, and expensive cars to drive me to all my private lessons… yes, quite a privileged life.
I am grateful. Enormously grateful to my parents for all that was given to me and sacrificed for me.
Those homemade meals, those gifts, I know now were silent gestures of their love for me.
Maybe that's why I never asked for anything more. During my birthdays, great parties were thrown with extravagant gifts. Even though it may have been for their own stroke of ego, and to show off their privilege, even I knew the excess of it all. So with so much excess, how could I ever ask for more?
Those gifts were also a privilege. Something I could never ask for but yearned for with every fiber of my being.
Cultural differences can attribute a lot to how we perceive love. Some may value gifts given as a more than sufficient way to receive love, however, I became quite divided in my perception at the time since I was in between two very different cultures. Now that I understand a little more about love languages, I sometimes wonder if that also contributed to my feelings of lack.
My parents loved me in their own way. I can acknowledge that now. I can also acknowledge that the things that have happened to me also affected me the way it did, and that's okay too. I am content knowing that these two things in life can be both factual and right in their own way.
We are all complicated creatures. Nothing seems simple, and yet complex emotions, and situations, can also be perceived as simple things.
How amazing and versatile love can be.
That in itself is one of the joys of life I've come to understand.