I had the good fortune of being roommates with a girl who was studying massage at the Swedish institute. The only problem is that every time she would massage me I would scream and laugh to the point of needing to be gagged. It's not that the massage didn't feel good. It is just that the sensations were too intense to process in a manner which didn't sound like a tickle torture tantrum.
For better or worse I have always been sensitive to touch.
Yesterday, a woman rammed a briefcase into my shin and kept walking as if it never happened. I couldn't really fathom that she was unable feel the throbbing pain pulsating in my leg. How someone can hit a person so hard with a briefcase and keep walking amazes me.
Recently a friend poked me very hard in an extremely tender part of my body without realizing it had happened. It sent shocks of pain up through my stomach and raised the finest hairs on my body to razor sharp attention. For a moment I felt like I could vomit. When I pointed it out, I was told that I was not poked in my tender parts. The dismissal of my pain brought my emotional tenderness to the surface. I feel so open, exposed and raw at times.
Violent touch awakens memories from the past,
small words to deaf ears,
things I don't talk about.
These things didn't happen to me.
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