“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.” ~E.E. Cummings
I was a shy kid. My mom said that when I was in pre-school, the teacher asked all of the kids to hold hands and I said, “No thanks, I’ll just hold my own.”
That may have been the beginning of my aversion towards human contact. As a kid, I remember grandparents, aunts, and uncles giving me big horrible hugs. If I didn’t blatantly push them away or wiggle free, I stood there stiff as board, until the torture was over.
They thought this was adorable and would laugh and laugh. No one thought to seek professional help. They probably thought I’d out grow this, but I did not.
It became more apparent by middle school. I don’t know what went on at your junior high, but at mine, girls were constantly touching!
They were hugging multiple times per day, playing with each other’s hair, giving one another backrubs, and playing that weird arm tickling game where you plant a garden and watch it grow. If you’re curious what this actually is, don’t Google “girl’s tickling each other.” That’s not it!
I remember the nervous rides to Chaparral Middle School. My mind would race. Who was going to try to hug me today? What would I do? What would I say? I decided: I’d just go along with it, but I wouldn’t hug back, I’d keep it quick, I’d never initiate, and I definitely wouldn’t like it.
I didn’t fool my friends for long though. They started to notice my lack of interest. They made comments like, “You have to hug back girl!” or “Come on, give me a real hug!”
I wanted to vomit. I tried harder for a while. I tried acting like a warmer, more loving person, but it just felt fake.
I let my discomfort build until one day I finally exploded, which is the case with most of the issues I’ve eventually had to face.
My friend Laura picked the wrong girl to hug that day. I pushed her away and yelled, “STOP HUGGING ME! What is the matter with you?” Then addressing all of my girlfriends I pleaded, “Why do you always want to hug? Can’t we just keep to ourselves?”
At this point, I should probably put fears to rest and mention that I was never inappropriately touched. By anyone. No uncle. No neighbor.
I actually wasn’t touched much at all, which may be part of the problem. I come from a close-knit family; growing up they never missed a single soccer game and today they never miss a single funny email forward. We’ve just never been close in the physical sense. (more…)