The Gift of Knowing

What is the greatest gift someone could give you?

I am a giver.

In fact, I like giving so much it makes me question if altruism could possibly be an actual thing because there is such a payoff for me.

When I give gifts of my time, my service or other thoughtful gestures there is undoubtedly a personal gain. This is, as they say, my love language.

Please understand that this isn’t a claim that my gifts are always on point or that I’m a dream to be attached to.

I am certainly not.

I am also now acutely aware that my desire to give is dangerously intertwined with my self worth. This is a tough line to walk. I haven’t figured it out yet.

Receiving gifts, at any point in the year (Christmas is gift day in my world as a Dec 25 baby), is secondary. It’s lovely to be thought of but I’m in it to give.

That’s actually why this prompt appealed to me this morning. Thinking about the gifts I cherish seemed like a good exercise in gratitude but in an adjacent manner than what I’m used to doing.

I think one of the hardest factors I deal with on a daily basis is being constantly exhausted. I have a history of insomnia dating back to puberty, though it comes in phases I really don’t sleep as much as most people do. Spencer is going a lot better than he was a year or two years ago but he still struggles with sleep. During the day he is busy and even though I remain medicated (when I remember) I am also quite busy of mind and body.

One gift that tends to mean a lot to me is when someone protects my rest.

Quite often if I stop moving I’ll fall asleep. If I happen to find a minute to rest, someone or something will inevitably burst into my world and wake me. I became accustomed to waking up to the feeling of fear, the sound of arguing or just general loudness and lack of regard. On the rare occasion when someone takes on the kid requests or quietly shuts the door for me and fields what can be fielded for an hour it’s immeasurably helpful.

Reflecting on this, it occurs to me that these are the gifts that mean the most to me. It’s when someone can see the ways I’m stretched thin and they choose to supplement without being directed. To be honest, if I am asked what I need I don’t really know the answer. I don’t have the capacity to stop and assess and delegate because I barely know what I’ve got happening myself.

When someone steps in to protect my peace, however small the gesture may seem, it means more than anything I’ve ever received in a gift bag.

It’s about being seen and treated with value. I don’t always know what I need, but it is nice for a caretaker to sometimes be taken care of.