I am truly awful at choosing gifts. This isn’t a modesty stunt or a way to cover up for being lazy. I genuinely lack the innate ability to give gifts well; it’s a fundamental part of who I am.
If you’re familiar with the concept of The 5 Love Languages, you might know that “gift giving” is one of those languages. After taking the assessment, I found that my primary love language is “acts of service,” followed by “words of affirmation.” Not surprisingly, “gift giving” scored the lowest—like I’m pretty sure I barely got any points in that category. Receiving gifts doesn’t matter much to me, nor do I show my love for others through presents.
Essentially, I have zero instincts when it comes to gifting. Even when I receive an invitation to a birthday party, I rarely think about what to bring for the celebrant. It usually hits me with panic the day before (or even the morning of) the event that I need to figure something out. It’s not that I don’t think about the person—I often reflect on how grateful I am to have them in my life and how excited I am to celebrate them. The actual gift-giving part just doesn’t cross my mind.
This doesn’t mean I’m not a generous person. I’m more than happy to babysit your kids to give you a breather, I can write you a heartfelt letter, and I love finding ways to make life a little easier for others. I’m open to offering almost anything you might need, and I love hosting friends and family. My spirit is generous, but it just doesn’t translate into gifts.
My family and close friends are aware of my gift-giving shortcomings, so that’s a relief. However, there are many other social situations where a gift is expected, and I am completely lost. When it comes to hostess gifts or holiday presents for coworkers, teachers, and mail carriers, I’m utterly clueless. The holiday season is especially tough for those of us who struggle with gifting. Birthdays and anniversaries are a close second and third.
Luckily, my partner shares my gifting challenges, so we’re on the same page. Our take on birthday or anniversary gifts is simple: “Remember that fancy coffee maker we’ve been wanting? Let’s just buy it for ourselves and call it a gift!” We’re completely satisfied with this arrangement. I can’t even recall the last time we exchanged a wrapped surprise gift. It just doesn’t happen, and we’re both perfectly okay with it.
Part of this quirk might stem from my preference for simplicity. I don’t want to give someone an item they won’t need or that will merely clutter their space until they feel obliged to donate it. When I do manage to buy a gift, it’s often something like flowers or candy—things that won’t last long. But even these gifts make me anxious. Those flowers will wilt, right? And the candy just adds to someone’s temptation to indulge.
See? I tend to overthink everything. When I finally remember to buy a gift, I second-guess my choices. If it’s truly the thought that matters, can’t I just think about the person and tell them I did? Wouldn’t that suffice?
I know many of you delightful gift-givers won’t relate to any of this. I have friends who are great at gifting, and I cherish their enthusiasm and thoughtfulness. I just hope my kindness shines through more in my actions and words than in bows and wrapping paper.
Happy gifting to all the wonderful gift-givers out there! And to my fellow gift-challenged friends? Hang in there during the holiday rush. You’re not alone in this.
For more insights on parenting and home insemination, check out this blog post. Also, if you’re curious about artificial insemination options, this site offers great resources. Additionally, March of Dimes is an excellent reference for information on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
The author shares her struggles with gift-giving, expressing how it doesn’t come naturally to her. Despite being generous in other ways, she finds herself overwhelmed during occasions that require presents. She celebrates her partnership with someone who shares her gifting ineptitude and reflects on the value of thoughtful actions over tangible gifts.