According to the Love Language test, my primary love languages are Quality Time and Acts of Service. It makes sense—I grew up with my mom, and while we don’t talk much, we love each other’s presence. There were times when I asked her, “Mom, should we talk more and have longer conversations?” and she simply replied, “What for?” To which I thought, “Umm… you’ve got a point there.”
Or in Indonesian, I responded with: “Iya juga ya, ngapain juga ya.”
The bottom line is, we share a common trait: we don’t talk much unless necessary.
And my mom is the ultimate example of Acts of Service. She never misses seeing me off at the gate every time I leave the house—whether for kindergarten, elementary school, junior high, high school, or even work. We always wave at each other. So that’s around… what, 25 years-ish?
☝️ Old pictures of her before I hopped on a GoJek (Indonesian motorcycle taxi). If I had taken a photo every time she did that, I’d have thousands by now.
Anyway,
When I moved to Athens, Greece, everything changed. It was my first time living abroad, and even though I’d traveled alone before, this was different. Living in a new country on your own brings so many firsts: new people (mostly Indonesian in my case), a new environment, new habits, and countless other unfamiliar experiences.
One of those new experiences came when I participated in The Holy Art exhibition. I submitted one of my drawings—an experiment, really. I thought, Why not? Let’s see what happens. For the first time, my work would be displayed outside my home country, and that alone felt like an achievement.
Initially, my plan was simple: participate, attend the opening alone, and quietly collect my artwork when it was over. I didn’t want to tell anyone or invite friends because I kept thinking, Why would anyone want to come? Who am I to ask? What if they don’t even like it? My only goal was to have my work displayed—even if just for a few passing glances. I didn’t expect much, let alone for anyone to notice it, let alone buy or collect this quirky piece of mine.
But then something unexpected happened.
Some people gave their verbal support, saying things like, “Congratulations,” “I’m proud of you,” “This is the first step,” “Keep creating,” or even, “Your work is so unique.” My knee-jerk reaction was to brush these words aside. Internally, I thought, This is nothing. It’s not worthy of any attention or praise.
Yet, somehow, it felt different this time.
Why did their words of encouragement make me feel so… good? Why did I feel inspired to create more? Why did it feel warm and uplifting?
Did I just unlock another love language? Words of Affirmation.
I’ve always found it easy to give affirmations to others, but I never realized how difficult it was to receive them. And yet, when I was ready to, those words hit differently. They stayed with me, pushing me forward.
I could never thank the people who supported me enough—for their kind words and for physically showing up. Their encouragement turned what I thought would be a small, private milestone into a moment of joy and discovery for myself.
It turns out, as absurd as the artwork came out, affirmation is something I didn’t know I needed but now fully (try to) appreciate.
el.is.in.wonderland 
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