Hands, touching hands, reaching out
Touching me, touching you
-“Sweet Caroline,” Neil Diamond
(Forward: It is classic Mary Beth behavior to make an impulsive decision and stick it out till the very end. I have mastered the art of handling the public’s confusion about why I am doing/did something while simultaneously concealing my own mental disarray . Last year, I bought a Jeep Wrangler before I knew how to drive a manual transmission. And although those times stalling out at green lights in Capitol Heights were panic-attack worthy, I pulled it off. A year later, I am certain my decision to buy “Sue” was fate. Hell, even Taco (my dog) was an impulsive decision. Point is: I’ve never thought back to any of these choices as a mistake. And the truth is, if I don’t do something on an impulse, I’ll sit around and never do it at all.)
The topic of this blog is “TOUCHING.”
Last year, I signed up for an exciting career in massage therapy. The “pros”? Great pay, short work days, independence, flexibility, reliability. But I’ve never been the “touchy-feely” type, which is definitely a desired character trait in this field.
Myself and one of my best friends, who I met in massage school, have found we have an aversion to touching.
Touching someone else –especially sans clothing–is such a personal thing. It’s difficult to be 100% comfortable touching someone else on command. Someone you don’t know. Or even someone you do know.
Then there’s the flip side.
People who have no qualms, reservations, anxiety, about invading another person’s personal space, infact they adore the act of touching. Laying hands on another individual- even a perfect stranger, comes easily, naturally–without a second thought.
So, which category do YOU fall into?
And what makes a person so comfortable with touch? Their parents?
Is it all a matter of hugs and casual physical contact while growing up?