Presence

It had been 39 days And I could feel it Starting, The Breath Shortening, The teeth touching as the jaw begins to tighten. A day or two later the left shoulder blade prods me with a sharp pain as I lean against the wall. 

Within a week my appetite has diminished and I don't feel hunger. The pain in my shoulder has expanded into the centre of my back where my heart is feeling like a clay pot, brittle. It hurts like hell when I try to breath deeply. My jaw is rigid now, jutting forward. I know what I need but cant ask for it.

Shame is a terrible thing. 

I notice My sleep pattern is disturbed, waking around 3am my body curled in fetal position I recognise sadness and begin to rock myself for comfort. Tears come and the pain eases a little.

At almost the exact time, 11 weeks my body feels - cold, still, withered. My mind has left. Just a grey mush incapable of thought - disconnected - death like.

This my friend is the effect of isolation. 11 weeks without any sort of warm touch - received or given. 

Then the door bell rings. As I answer, the neighbours dog rushes past into the house rubbing my legs creating some sort of pressure sensation. I feel a slight shift.

They need a sitter for an hour or so. I happily oblige, welcoming the company, knowing I'll have some sort of connection, an opportunity to touch something soft, warm, alive. 

We sit together on the sofa, her head resting on my lap. My hand resting still on her side. I can feel her ribs expand as she breaths. I begin stroking the long soft hair and can feel my frozen heart melting. I cry - for two reasons - firstly tears of gratitude to this beautiful animal that has no idea how healing it is for me to express my love through touch and secondly in sadness that even tho to touch and be touched is essential for my health I cant bring myself to reach out for support.

As I hand the dog back to my neighbour they tell me I look so much better now and I find the courage to share why. With that they lean forward and give me a thank you hug, for helping them out. My whole,body softens to the point my knees nearly buckle.

'Anytime'. I say, and nearly leave it at that. With a deep breath I add 'i needed that hug. Thank YOU.

'Anytime' my neighbour said, 'and I mean that. Anytime, I really need my supply of human hugs'. Pointing at the dog they continue 'she's great at receiving but not so good at reaching that spot in the middle of my back where it hurts sometimes'.

Just shows it's not just me. Turns out they attended a Conscious touch foundation workshop where they learned to let go of shame around needing nourishing touch and how to reach out when in need, or to offer as sharing touch benefits both the giver and receiver when done consensually with presence and kind intent.