I’d don’t remember my family being very affectionate towards each other from my earliest days. I doubt I saw my parents so much as hold hands or act like they liked each other until a brief period of time during my early 30s. Yes, you read that correctly. We just weren’t touchy-feely, hug-giving, hand-holding, affectionate people. Why would we be? Expressing emotions verbally or otherwise just wasn’t acceptable unless we were happy. Not satisfied or content. Only happy.
So between this and the abuse I suffered in college, I didn’t want to be touched after age 22. By anyone. I felt empty, “wrong” and completely undeserving of human touch. That and I didn’t really know that touch was comforting. Touch was confusing to me. I just couldn’t accept hugs or pats on the back or a touch of the hand without cringing for nearly 14 years. And unfortunately, I was unable to reach out to my husband and be affectionate in our marriage. I just didn’t know how.
Fourteen years later, I have let light into what I once thought was a black, empty soul. I’m not “wrong” and deserve to be on this earth just as much as anyone else. Now I have this ankle problem that is going from bad to worse every day and I just crave for someone to look at it or touch it. I make the mistake of asking my mom. She refuses to look at my poor, swollen foot or so much as touch it with a finger to try to soothe it. Can she not accept her daughter’s imperfections? I just want a little affection and healing touch from my mom. Isn’t that what Moms are for? I guess if she didn’t do it 30 years ago, she won’t do it now. That is sad to me. So, I will continue to rub my lavender lotion on my foot myself at night. Because I deserve it.