Touching

It wasn't even a very good massage. The massage therapist was trying just a little too hard to be holistic and hippie-dippy. He made me choose from cards with Indian characters to personalize my aroma therapy combination. He talked too much. His idea of medium pressure was pathetic and I found myself laying there, nearly naked, wondering if saying, "harder, harder," would be awkward, awkward.

On the other hand, it made me painfully aware of how little I am touched. It seems like such a simple thing, skin on skin, but I almost shuddered and I wanted to cry when this hands made contact with my back. In a moment I was aware of something akin to starvation or dehydration but without such obvious symptoms. I am touch deprived.

Scientists tell us that human contact is vital to our health-physical and mental. You can actually kill an infant just by depriving it of touch and eye contact. I recently watched a movie where someone was accidentally marooned for years and when he was rescued all I could think was, "someone, touch him." I was almost in pain until the female lead gave him a hug. We know we're supposed to touch each other. But we don't.

As we age, we put touch into specific categories - it's part of only a few specific relationships. We touch our boyfriends or girlfriends. We touch our spouses. We touch our family members. Very few of us touch our friends much, beyond a quick hug hello or goodbye. I suppose that maybe how it's supposed to be.

Except I don't have a boyfriend or husband. I don't have kids. I've never been all that comfortable with friend touching. It's just one of a dozens of things, I guess, that makes it worth putting up with having a member of the opposite sex all up in your life and stuff. One of those things I'm supposed to pretend I don't miss because it upsets the normals. But I do. And I know that every day that I don't go home to someone who is willing to let me lean on them for a while in front of the tv or put their arms around me in bed, I am damaged a little bit. Stress hormones build up in my system. I am a little more irritable that I should be and a lot less tolerant of other people.

It had been a while since I'd had a massage - professional or amatuer - and I have to say I'd almost forgotten that feeling like my demons were being rubbed away. I don't know if I'm better off for having been reminded that it was possible, though. Because it seems unlikely that I'll ever be able to afford enough massage to evict the demons permanently.