I grew up in a huge Italian family, where hugs and kisses weren't just the norm, but were a constant. Physical affection of all types weren't just accepted, but were common practice. I spent many a hot NY August night sprawled across my aunt's lap, or legs, or even using her butt as a pillow while watching game shows in my great grandmother's air conditioned living room.
As kids, nothing was thought of us running around the house, or back yard, in our birthday suits... Bodies weren't anything to be ashamed of, or hidden, in my family.
That total acceptance of nudity and physical affection carried over into my adult life, spurring my extreme dislike of uncomfortable and restrictive clothing (like underwear) and my extreme need for hugs and kisses.
To me, touch is a language all its own. It can communicate love, or hate. It can communicate calm, or agitation. It can communicate a feeling of safety, or unease. Touch cannot lie. It cannot be anything other than honest, because you can feel the emotion behind it; the intent. In many ways, I think touch speaks louder than words. It has more resonance, more depth, more layers -- and that can make it a difficult language to learn. But once you learn it, the world takes on more color, and your perception changes.
Without touch, the entire world would wither and die.
For example -- studies were done in Romanian orphanages about the amount of time babies were held, and how their vital signs were affected. The study was brought on by the extremely high death rate of infants in the orphanages mind you, and it wasn't done just for the hell of it. Babies that weren't held lost interest in life. Their weights dropped dangerously because they didn't want to eat, they became listless and unresponsive, their heart rates dropped, as did their respiration rates. Those babies that weren't held, died. On the other hand, babies that were held for extended periods of time on a regular basis gained weight quickly. They became more alert, their heart and respiration rates stayed strong, and they developed at a very healthy rate.
But the babies that weren't held, DIED.
I feel like that sometimes, like if I don't get a hug I'm going to wither and die... And to a degree, its the truth. The longer I go without physical affection, the more lonely I get, the more lethargic I get, the more depressed I get... The less motivated I am to live life to the fullest. Its funny how that works, but its true. I am always my absolute happiest when I'm curled up, safe and sound, within someone's arms.
Is it human nature though, to crave touch to such a degree? Or is it my upbringing? I think it's a little of both. That Romanian orphanage thing proves that as children we need physical affection in order to grow and develop at a healthy rate. I think we keep at least a little bit of that need when we grow up. If we didn't, I don't think there would be so many people obsessed with sex. That's the only publicly accepted way to really touch anymore -- I mean, walk down Market Street in SF during the height of rush hour. No matter how crowded it is, no one will so much as brush up against you.
As a society, on the West Coast anyway, touching someone without their express consent just isn't allowed. Its taboo to even make eye contact with a stranger anymore. There are some people that can survive that way I'm sure. But all the people that I talk to are miserable without having someone to at least cuddle with every so often.
For me though, the drive is stronger. I'm not suited to single life where I only get a hug from someone once in a blue moon. I need that touch to feel loved, to feel reassured, to feel safe, and happy, and secure.
To quote my own poetry:
Just a hand to hold would be enough
A shoulder on which I could lean.
Just...
Someone to hold me.
No comments:
Post a Comment