By Turtle
There are things you think you know, then someone dumps a bucket of ice water and glitter over your head. Maybe you find yourself sitting on the curb as the world spins cattywampus, blinking itsy bitsy cutting cellophane out of your now pixelated sight. At first, I thought 2020 and Covid precautions had caused my destitution of touch. It was a much longer journey, however.
I come from a touchy family. Always with the hugs and the squeezing too many people onto any available seating even if it leaves a chair open, except during pinochle. Only then do you get your own chair! No cheating!
I’d go out dancing at the clubs, squishing in with the other dancers on the boxes and catwalks. Constantly there was inadvertent touch, and certainly some very on purpose crushing and grinding. I’d never know whose sweat or even how many people’s sweat I would wash off as the sun peeked over the horizon. I was high on life!
Touch is important to humans. It calms our cardiovascular system, signals trust and safety. It leads to lower blood pressure and, hey, who doesn't love a little oxytocin "the love hormone" in your life?
One day, I received the diagnosis of chronic illness that included pain. It’s not the fun unicorn, rainbows and candy that some make it out to be, said with sad irony. Fairly quickly, I’d flinch away from soft touch. Firm touch was still ok. I started feeling "other" and not included...like standing outside in the dark and cold while watching a party going on inside a house that I wasn't invited to.
Soon, I needed to see the touch coming and I'd need it to be firm and purposeful. No idle stroking back and forth in the same spot back and forth and back. It felt like my skin was being peeled off. At the Center, friends would ask if I was huggable. I was grateful when I could say yes. Thankful for a community who understood the many various facets of consent.
Then one day, our 21st-century plague hits and people lose their ever-loving minds over simple precautions I’ve lived with for years. But due to their right to be a walking talking coughing petri dish, I no longer leave the house. I don’t see people in person. Strangely, since everyone is doing everything virtually, I’m more social than before. But I crave touch.
My nesting partner is focused in his head. We no longer play or snuggle. I find myself treasuring when he tucks his toes under my legs at night. We adopted a pup who is about 55 pounds now. He lays on me and I snuggle with him. It helps but it’s not the same. Plus he's at that awkward age where he's all elbows and paws.
I’m finding myself almost willing to overlook safety measures for just the smallest physical connection… hugs, holding hands, spooning, kissing, massage. And as that angst grows unbearable…
I remind myself that our hearts are our touchstones. Yes, we all need physical touch. It just isn’t quite safe yet, though it will be soon. Make a plan for how to play and engage when it is safer. For the moment, we need to reach out with our hearts until it is safe to do so with our bodies.