I'm a fermata. Hold me.

I love touch. I suppose my family is a "touching" family. I grew up like that. I'm used to it. Physical human contact. Lots of it. Hugging, pushing, shoving, holding, sitting-on, lying-on, leaning against, hitting, poking, grabbing, cuddling, hair-brushing, stroking, petting, arm-tickling, wrestling, massaging, boosting, kissing, hand-holding, nuzzling, tagging, squeezing, rocking, snuggling... you get the idea. I'd venture to say that I'm the one in my family who likes/appreciates/needs physical human contact most and is most readily willing to ask for/initiate such touch. Apparently, I have always been a "cuddly" person. As a baby, I'd snuggle up as close as I could into my mom's neck and nuzzle for as long as I could. I think I still do that. I've learned that touch is one major way I feel/give love. I love it, and it's all so wonderfully normal, and comforting, and human.

Social life is a bit different from family life, and there are different acceptable levels of contact for different people. As I grew up and learned about things like "personal space" and "bubbles," there was by simple social necessity less casual invasion of other people's space. Which is fine, I guess, but sometimes strange to try and remember that not everyone is as okay with bodily contact as I or the people I grew up with.

Generally, I am not as "in need" of physical affection, as I was when I was a child. I guess I'm more comfortable with myself and know how to comfort myself. But I won't deny that there are days when I need a hug, a gentle embrace, a pat on the back, a stroke of the neck, or to have my hair played with, be held, or be able to sit close to someone and lean against them, to hug them, to push them, poke them, hold them, touch them, or slide my feet under them as we're lying on the couch. I need it to relax, to calm down, to be comforted—to comfort. It doesn't take much. But some days, I need it to keep my sanity.

Yesterday was one of those days.

Thank you M!