The Resistant Huggee

 

 

“i want to
stay curled and cosied
and chocolated....forever
in my mother’s arms.”
― Sanober Khan, Turquoise Silence

My youngest daughter was born madder than heck at being pushed away from the maternal hug of my womb.  The grabbed her up and put her under lights to help her slough off my blood type and she was turning yellow by the moment.  She wore her knees raw from anger at being plopped in a plastic cage, bare-butt naked, and screaming mad.  When we tried to hold her and cradle her, swaddle her, to try to comfort her, she would arch her newborn back and try to push away.  Yes, she was mad as hell and going to make sure everyone knew about it.  Even today, she is known as a non-hugger.  At best, she is an A-frame hugger, and she tolerates mine.  I am a hugger, have always been a hugger, will always be a hugger.  I do not know if the hug is for me or for the huggee.  I love hugs.

It is something to be an observer of a non-hugger, eyes wide open and preparation for some kind of siege of an incoming hug.  You can see them start to bend forward so the hug is almost arms length as if they had measured out their space of declared allowance.  My daughter wanted to be in her cloth bassinet, swaddled and left alone.  She eventualyw anted me to hold her close in a maternal hug, but no one else better even look at her.  Many times she would start with alligator tears and begin to cry in public.  When I asked my beautiful baby girl why she was crying, she would pout out her lip and say, full-fledged weeping, now, that “people are looking at me!”  Perhaps she felt someone was going to hug her.  As a baby, even the thought of someone hugging her, made her uncomfortable. 

Have you ever heard of the vagus nerve?  It is a bundle of nerves that goes from spine to belly.  If it is low-toned, a person can be anxious, have problems being intimate because they do not respond to the oxytocin release that helps bond people. It is a pleasure response; the cuddle hormone.   Hugs set off oxytocin is most people.  Non-huggers are non-huggers for their own reasons.  Some people simply are averse to being touched, let alone being hugged.  I, though, am a professional, expert, hugger.  Always have been, too late to change now.

I remember my first massage.  I was deeply uncomfortable at first, but, as she was doing my back, I become overcome with emotions.  Tars streamed down my cheeks and dropped on to the table covering.  I was even more embarrassed.  The masseuse spoke comfortingly to me and explained that often happened.  As I wept and she massaged, I came to realize that I had not had gentle touch for decades.  My soul had what it was longing for.  I was a hugger for me.

We, huggers, need to be aware of why and how we hug, and who.  One needs to be socially conscious of body language of those we are headed for.  The look of horror in their eyes and the stiffening of their body as you head in, ought to give us pause.  If is someone you love, and you know loves you, move in slowly and let them ease into your hug. 

With my daughter, I am her mother, and I will danged well hug her because we both need it.

Are you a hugger or a resistant huggee?

©Carol Desjarlais 5.22.22