Actions Over Words

Actions of care. That is my love language. By actions of care, I don’t mean that I want somebody to do everything for me. I do not want a servant, nor do I wish to be coddled or treated as if I am helpless. What I think of, when I think of actions of care, are the times when somebody close to you knows you and thinks about you enough that they engage in small actions that might make your day brighter, or your life easier in some way.

I think that the reason I value this type of care so much is partly because that’s the environment I grew up in. I am part of quite a big family, one of six children to be precise. There are a lot of us, which meant a lot to do and not always enough time for niceties or fanciful words. That isn’t to say that we didn’t love and encourage each other, words can be more important than some people might think, but we mostly tended to do it through actions of care.

When my dad would drive us home even though he had work the next day, or take over the chores because they were particularly nasty ones, those were acts of care. When my brother and I had arrived home in the torrential rain to be met with hot chocolate and biscuits from my mum, or when she would go round and round the town for hours trying to find us the perfect birthday present – or, even as adults, when she would send us adverts for jobs that she thought we might like – those were acts of care. These things are not something either of my parents had to do, nor did we expect them to, but they went out of their way to do it because they care about our wellbeing.

Actions of care are not performed to make the person engaging in them look good. They are often done under the radar and without credit. That is what lets you know that the person caring for you is genuine. In my short time on this earth, I have met a lot of people who are very good at ‘talking the talk’. Although, when it would come to walking the walk, they would fall short. I have met an excruciating number of those who would promise me the world in order to get me to do what they want, then when it came time to hold up their end of the bargain, they would conveniently forget that they had promised me anything at all. I’ve met those who would tell me they love me, while simultaneously acting as if they hate me. And others who would purposefully withhold affection to punish me for enforcing reasonable boundaries, all the while telling me that they only had my best interests at heart.

What have I learnt from all of this?

That, honey, words don’t mean a damn thing.

What matters, what speaks volumes, are actions. I don’t mean the crumbs of affection somebody throws you when you go above and beyond for them. Nor do I mean the carrot people dangle on a stick in front of you to coax you into behaving in a manner which pleases them. Actions of care do not have strings attached, they come with love and a genuine desire to connect with another person. Loving someone doesn’t mean you’ll never fight; you may even dislike each other for a little while. Underneath it all though, you care about each other, and you both put in a consistent effort to make the other person’s time on this earth a little brighter.

I suffer with Anxiety and C-PTSD. This can make things difficult for me, because a lot of the time, my brain will try to protect me by lying to me.

“That person doesn’t really like you, they just like what you can do for them.”

“You’re coming off as annoying and clingy, who would want to be around that?”

“You’re a burden, it’s better to just leave everyone else alone to get on with their own life.”

“They might be being nice to you now, but sooner or later they’ll show their true colours, just like everyone always does.”

“Watch what you say, they might get violent.”

Most of the time I’m wrong about this stuff, although sometimes – quite a few times in the past – I’ve been absolutely right. I’ve worked very hard to change my thought processes over the years, to consistently remind myself that past trauma is not necessarily true to the present, that not everyone has nefarious intentions and people can be trusted. The effort I put into doing this, in itself, is an act of care; one that most will never know that I’m doing.

The me from five years ago would never have believed I would be where I am now, surrounded by love, kindness, and acts of care.

Acts of care like how my friend Chris has both supported and engaged in meaningful conversations about every single article that I’ve written on here. Or how Delya (one of the writers from People! Just Say Something! affectionately known as Atlas) offered up a working suitcase to me 10 minutes before my train to make my journey easier. When the rest of my household took my baby plants under their wing because I had to go away for work. When my aunt Heather went out of her way to come and see the immersive installation that I’d worked on, or the immensely talented Georgia who has been to every single theatre production (no matter her location) that I’ve been involved in since we left university. I saw an act of care when my mate Dan, knowing that I didn’t want my graduation day to end, offered up a space in the apartment he was renting with some friends. I see it in Adrian who is thoughtlessly kind and has donated to my writing on more than one occasion so that I can keep doing what I love. Or when I was at a low point mentally and Iz, Cleve, Lily and Beth messaged me until they knew I was okay again.

All of the instances I have described above have one thing in common, none of them involve empty words, but actions of substance. All of these actions, bit by bit, have worked to convince me that I can leave the bad things in my past behind me. That I can love freely and people will love me back. That, although selfish behaviour can oftentimes be a trauma response in itself, that I want to stay as far away from it as possible. That it gets better, that I am enough.

This life can be exhausting. At times we might struggle to find the will to go on. But the people who love us make it all worth it. If you’re not there yet and are still finding it difficult to trust outside groups – a very valid thought process and trauma response that I have regularly driven myself around the bend with – start with yourself. How can you love yourself? Failing this, how can you at the very least start to generate some empathy and compassion for yourself? What actions of care can you enact to make your day easier? Perhaps it’s drinking water before you go sleep if you have had one too many alcoholic beverages. Maybe it’s cleaning your room so that you feel productive and comfortable in your environment… Listening to your favourite song, wearing your favourite perfume, watching your favourite film. Maybe you get the tasks done that you’ve been putting off, or give yourself a breather if you’ve been doing too much. Whatever it is, cut yourself some slack, you’re doing great and you are worthy of actions of care. You are enough.

I hope you enjoyed reading this article as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you did, feel free to like and subscribe.

In the words of Robert Tew:

"Be patient with yourself. You are growing stronger every day. The weight of the world will become lighter...and you will begin to shine brighter. Don't give up."

If you want to continue the conversation, you can find me over on @OptimismWrites