It's March, and March is for slicing. Anyone is welcome to join us through Two Writing Teachers, slicing, sharing, and commenting on other slices!
My mom and I went to the mall together yesterday on a quest for some fresh clothes for Julia. As we walked toward Madewell, we spotted a good friend of my mom's, a woman I've grown up knowing. My mom and Mrs. F. walk weekly, so seeing her wasn't a hug-worthy event for the two of them, but Mrs. F. came at me for a hug. She caught herself, though, even before I flinched and backed away.
"Oh wait," she said. "I can't hug you. You're hurt."
I placed both hands on her shoulders, giving her the hug that makes me okay these days, and I thanked her.
Tracy's post about hugs was one I loved this month, and when I read it, I increased my awareness and generosity with hugs. But my hugging capacity came to a screeching halt on March 19 when I had a melanoma removed from my back. The cut was a lot larger than I expected, more painful than I expected, and has taken more energy to recover from than I expected, but I'm getting there. Maybe today, I'll try a little exercise...
My incision site is also completely out of view.
Over these eleven days, I've been struck (both meanings of that word purposely intended) a number of times at how many times people in my world go to touch me. A tap on the shoulder...(please don't.) A pat on the back...(Still trauma-inducing!) An oncoming hug... (I'm sorry- I just can't.) I have found myself dodging and avoiding, wincing and flinching at the threat of any potential touch. On many occasions, I have tried, without getting into a long explanation about my health, to explain my touch aversion.
I know I'll continue to heal, and I'll return to my hugful ways, but for now, hugs hurt. As a natural hugger, I've spent time thinking about hugs and all the different types of huggers in my life. No doubt there are invisible injuries others might have that make hugging uncomfortable or even painful. I don't know what I don't see. And for some, the explanation could run deeper and be more painful than mine.
I’m sorry your hugs are halted. I think where you go with this is important to remember and think about. I hope you’re back to hugging soon. ❤️ Jess
ReplyDeleteFirst, I am so sorry for everything you are going through. I recall a slice from you a few years ago about giving that first hug to someone during the pandemic. In this slice, you describe so well and reflect so deeply about the hidden injuries that may lead one to be hug-averse. Wishing you a full recovery so that you get to decide if you want a hug or not.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry about what you are going through. It sounds hard. And not getting hugs must be hard too. Maybe you can try "hugging" the way my mom used to. She didn't feel comfortable with a full embrace, so she would take her hands, place them carefully on a person's face - one hand resting gently on each cheek- look them in the eyes and give a "hug". After my mom died, so many people told us how they remembered the way mom embraced them and how intimate and powerful it felt. Maybe people can give you a hug like my mom's.
ReplyDeleteOMG! I had this same surgery the week of Thanksgiving this past year. It was the most awkward holiday having to explain to everyone and to really hug no one. I am about 4 months out from surgery and feeling 98% normal and up for hugs. It won't be too long :)
ReplyDeleteFrom one hugger to another, I appreciate the disconnect that you are experience now that you cannot hug. You will be back and, I imagine, you will value each embrace that much more.
ReplyDeleteI'm very sorry to hear of your surgery and the accompanying pain that will last a while! I appreciate how you describe your surgery site as "invisible" and yet the pain is visible! While your hugging many be restricted, I am totally sure that you are one loved and appreciated Momma. Your daughter's post the other day will be in my memory banks for a LONG LONG, time! My your recovery be smooth and your hugs, in the future, plentiful.
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