Last week, I wrote a post about the need to be touched. Today I'd like to share a conversation I've had with one of the Red Cross volunteers who help out at our asylum seekers centre.
This lady is a trained reflexology therapist. She comes twice a week to give free foot reflexology massages to residents. Many of them have had to walk long distances, often with unsuitable shoes; and their feet are in a sore state (no pun intended). Add to that the stress of war trauma and of a perilous journey, the uncertainty about their own future, and the feeling of loss of control over their own lives. Our residents are under a lot of stress, and reflexology can really help. I am incredibly grateful to this lady for giving her time and skills for them. From two anecdotes she recounted, they are grateful too.
Those who come and see her often open up about what they've been through, as the treatment allows them to finally relax. At the end of the session, one of them took her hands in his and thanked her, saying, "You remind me of my mother. I miss her so much!" With that, he burst into tears and ran out of the room.
At the end of his treatment, another one said to her, "Now you sit down, madam." He then gave her a back massage. Turns out he was a trained massage therapist back home.
I think these stories speak from themselves about the importance of touch.
I came across this video today. It's about professional cuddlers. Sounds plain weird, right?
Well, as it happens, this strikes a chord with me.
I have a complicated relationship with physical touch. I often rant about how much I dislike the Belgian and French custom of kissing people on the cheek as a way of greeting them. I feel deeply uncomfortable having to kiss people I'm not close to. At the same time, I am a very affectionate person. As a little girl, I received lots of cuddles from my Mum. Often, I would sneak into bed with her after Dad had gone to work. Mum often gave me back rubs, stroked my hands and arms with her fingertips, or just held me close. I transferred such affectionate gestures in my romantic relationships, and even in my close friendships - I once gave a friend a foot massage on the night before her wedding to help her de-stress. Basically, I love hugs, cuddles and massages.
It seems pretty straighforward, right? I like physical touch from people I love and not from strangers. Well, actually, it's not that simple. Although I recoil from having to kiss distant aunts or cousins (or shop customers), I have been known to let strangers touch me and be quite happy about it. And children are always welcome to touch me - I let them cuddle me, brush my hair and even paint my face. It seems the basic issue is whether I feel comfortable around the person touching me. Obviously, this is the case for close friends and family, but sometimes, a stranger can just feel safe to me.
During what I refer to as my wild years (when I went out partying and drinking during an episode of depression), I received physical affection from a stranger with immense gratitude. I was very vulnerable at the time. I was struggling to recover from a hurtful breakup, I was away from my family and from my best friend. There were no cuddles in my life at the time. I went out with a friend, and we met a couple of gay men. My friend hooked up with a guy, and he gave her a back rub. I complained that I would like one too, so one of the gay men stood up behind me and gave me one. Just like that. Later on that evening, he held me and cuddled me. If he had been straight, I wouldn't have relaxed because I would have thought he was after something more. As it wasn't the case, I just enjoyed the physical affection I felt so deprived of. It was a beautiful thing that man did for me. His name was Lewis; I never forgot him.
This brings me back to the video. As human beings, we are physical creatures. We need touch. Yet, we live in a world where it can be increasingly difficult to receive the physical affection we crave, except in the context of a romantic or sexual relationship. Still during my wild years, I let a guy I'd met snog me in a club because he was holding me close to him. I remember thinking, "If this is the price to pay to get a hug, so be it." How sad is it that we have to put up with things we don't want in an attempt to fulfil a deep human need? More recently, my Grandma shared with me what she read in a book about palliative care: that elderly people long to be touched, too. They need physical affection as much as the rest of us, but are often denied it, especially if they are single or widowed. (I often hug my Grandma or hold her hand.)
We need safe people and safe places for cuddles. Not everyone will need or be comfortable with the same kind of touch. Yet, be it a hand squeeze or an all-embracing hug, it can really put a soothing balm on a lonely heart. If you can provide that act of kindness for someone, great. If not, maybe professional cuddlers can help.
