Your Love Language Did Not Start in Adulthood.

Growing up as the second-born and first girl in a Nigerian home, I did not need anyone to tell me what was expected of me. I felt it. It was not spoken as much as it was silently woven into the rhythm of our lives.

From early on, I had this innate desire to ease my mum’s workload. Not because anyone forced me to but because something in me wanted to. I would run errands without being asked. I would chop vegetables and stir pots with my tiny hands. I would clear tables, sweep floors, and organize things that were not even mine to fix.

Even though I hated washing dishes, especially the Amala pots (if you know, you know), I would grit my teeth and do it. Because I knew it would help my mum breathe easier. That small sigh of relief she let out? That was enough for me.

The scent of bubbling stew fills my mum’s kitchen. The sun’s starting to set. My mum’s shoulders are heavy with the day. I am at the sink, elbow-deep in suds, multitasking between washing and prepping. She glances at me, tired, but grateful. And in that moment, something in me whispers: “If I can carry this for her, I will.”

Even as a child, I did not fully understand it. But deep down, that was my language of love, serving.

From Childhood Roles to Adult Patterns

As I got older, this pattern followed me. In school group projects or team efforts at work, I would instinctively find ways to make life easier for everyone else. I was the one dividing tasks, stepping in where others slacked, taking on the behind-the-scenes jobs no one else wanted. Not for applause, not for recognition but because I felt something settle in me when I helped.

It made people feel less alone. It made things smoother. It created calm out of chaos. And in doing that, I felt valuable. I felt loved. I felt safe.

But here is the thing: It was not just about helping. It was how I was wired to give and receive love.

The Realization: Acts of Service is My Love Language

It took me years to give this feeling a name. Then I stumbled on the Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman, you probably have too. At first, it felt like just another personality quiz. But when I read the description of Acts of Service, my heart paused.

“People whose primary love language is Acts of Service feel your adoration by the things you do.”

That was me. All of me. It explained why I felt so seen when someone fixed something for me, offered help without being asked, or simply lightened my load. It was not just a nice gesture. It was love made visible.

The Psychology Behind It

I have come to understand this truth more deeply: Your love language often comes from your earliest emotional experiences. We think we choose how we love but in many ways, love chooses us first.

Some people grew up learning that they had to work to be noticed.

Others discovered that love came only after performance or perfection.

Some have never heard “I’m proud of you,” so they crave affirming words.

Some longed for affection they never got, so they now ache for touch.

Some had to grow up fast—cooking, cleaning, managing—so service became our language of connection.

We think we are just “helpful.” But it is more than that. We are responding to a script written long before we had the words to decode it.

Love Languages as Invisible Threads

Our love languages are often invisible threads tugging us toward certain behaviors, preferences, and expectations. They influence:

• How we express care
• How we react when we don’t feel appreciated
• How we show up in relationships, at work, in ministry, and even in conflict

The tricky part? Most of us don’t even realize we are operating from these scripts. So when people don’t love us the way we need, it feels personal. It feels like rejection. It feels like absence, even when love is present. Without translation, love can be given and still not received.

The Healing Begins with Understanding

One of the most freeing things I have come to realize is this: I don’t have to be needed to be valuable. I did not serve to be seen. I did not carry weight to be loved. I did it because lightening the load of others brought me joy, a deep, quiet kind. Because love, for me, was never just words. It was action. It still is. But even the purest intentions need tending.

I have learned that sometimes, we over-function not because we are trying to prove something, but because we have not paused to ask what we need, too. So now, I take a step back, not from service, but from overextension. I still serve. Because that is who I am. But I now serve from overflow, not obligation. Not to earn love, but to honor it.

And I have started to ask: What does love look like for me too? Because that’s what mature love does. It doesn’t just give. It makes space to receive. It asks. It learns. It listens.

Affirmation

I am deeply loved, even when I am still.

I serve from overflow, not to prove anything.

My worth is rooted in who I am, not just in what I do.

When Love Speaks Different Dialects

I once dated someone whose primary love language was Quality Time. Now, if you have ever done the love language test, you will know we all have a ranking. For me, Quality Time sits comfortably at number four. I appreciate it, but it does not come naturally to me like Acts of Service does. I show love by doing. I feel love through thoughtful gestures, lightened loads, and shared responsibilities.

He, however, felt loved when I simply sat with him. Present. Undistracted. No tasks in hand. Just time together.

We clashed more than I would like to admit, not because we did not care, but because we kept trying to speak love in the language we understood. He spoke my love language fluently, but I struggled to speak his. I wanted to show love in the ways I knew how, but I did not fully grasp the depth of his need for quality time. That disconnect created tension.

But over time, I realized that the effort to understand each other’s love language is, in itself, a profound act of grace. It is not about getting it right all the time or speaking perfectly in someone else’s language, it is about the willingness to try. Understanding someone’s love language becomes a way of saying, “I see you. I care enough to make an effort, even if it does not come naturally to me.”

In the end, it was less about meeting every need perfectly and more about embracing the grace to learn, stumble, and grow together. That’s what makes love in relationships so beautiful: the act of giving yourself grace and offering the same to your partner, even when speaking their language feels challenging."

The Lesson: Love is Not One-Size-Fits-All

Reading someone’s love language is not about bending over backward, it is about bending toward understanding. You can love deeply and still be discerning. You can give intentionally and still protect your peace. True love honors both the giver and the receiver.

Now, when I enter new relationships or friendships, I pause before I act. I ask myself: How do they really feel loved? I observe, I listen, and most importantly, I communicate. Because the more we learn about each other’s love languages, the more we are able to build a connection that’s both fulfilling and sustainable.

I no longer feel the pressure to “prove” my love. Instead, I focus on understanding how love is received and giving freely, without expectations. This way, love can flow naturally, without the weight of misunderstood gestures or unmet needs. Because in the end, the most important thing isn’t how much you give—it’s how well you understand. And that is the foundation of lasting, transformative love.

Final Thoughts: Connecting the Dots Between Past & Present

If you have ever wondered why certain things touch you deeply or why you keep showing up a certain way in your relationships maybe it is time to look back. Not to blame. But to understand. When we trace our emotional blueprints, we don’t just uncover pain, we discover patterns that deserve compassion. And when we learn our love languages, we don’t just learn how to give love, we begin to heal the parts of us that never received it the way we needed.

So today, I invite you to reflect:

• What was love like for you as a child?
• How did your home, culture, or role shape the way you show up in love today?
• And what would it look like to love yourself (and others) with fresh eyes?

Does any of this resonate with you? Have you noticed your love language showing up in your childhood? Comment as I would love to read your story. Because maybe the best way to love is to start by understanding where it all began.