During my daily personal English training, I came across a TedX lecture "The (super) power of touch" by Merle Fairhurst.
She explains that according to a study seventy percent of people want to keep sight as their sense if they have to keep only one. And only two percent choose touch. When we look closely it is the largest organ in our body and the one we first use in the womb. It highlights the role of touch in stimulating two neurotransmitters (serotonin and dopamine) that are essential for feeling joy and daring to take risks. It is the basis of the knowledge of our beginning and our end. For me it is a way to give love, affection that I cannot translate into words. It is also a way of communicating. I really felt it with the covid; too hard not to be able to kiss my loved ones, to sit at too great a distance when we share a meal, take a public transport.
I can't help but smile when I think of all the hugs I've exchanged with my family. Some of them are bittersweet, like when I'm in great pain or when someone dies. Others are full of the unspoken, like when I hug my dad to tell him that he has nothing to reproach himself for. Still others express comfort and protection in addition to affection and love.
Since we left our prison home, the contact between my children and myself has taken on a different value. My daughters wrap their arms around me at family dinners to show me that they love me and maybe also a little bit so that I don't feel lonely being the only single one. My son hugs us, takes us by the shoulder, whereas before he only did that with his cousin, almost never with us. My last one doesn't hesitate to give me a kiss or to take me in her arms wherever we are. Thanks to all these moments I have learned to hug with more spontaneity and when I feel like it without holding back. A few days ago I told my daughter that when I hug them (her brothers and sisters and her), I have the feeling that they are an extension of myself, that it is a natural gesture. With typical teenage diplomacy, she tells me I'm weird. Thanks princess!
What I mean is that when I have any kind of physical contact with someone who is not my family, I usually feel discomfort, embarrassment. I feel like I'm invading someone else's personal space or the other way around. I think that's why we adopted a dog and a cat. They never hesitate to beg for a hug, to press themselves against us. And we give them what they ask for with pleasure, feeling flattered to have this place for them. It's so simple with an animal. I still have a long way to go before my sense of touch allows me to be completely me and allows me to connect with the people around me.
To make matters worse, four and a half years without a life partner to feel through touch that I am a woman, that I am simply alive is too much. I'm going to make sure I change that.
Can anyone tell me how to do that?
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FROM THE NORM TO THE MARGIN
Non-FictionTo tell my life story is to talk about everyone's life, to share our worlds. I prefer to remain hidden in order to open up. Come and discover me through the pages. Perhaps you will also find yourself through my wounds, my doubts and my hope for a...
