Body Ownership

Recently someone told me that I was the only person in his life that he didn’t hug.  Now, I have to imagine that is an exaggeration, but still, that hit a mark.  Shocking for me to hear this as I used to consider myself an excellent hugger (still do actually, just don’t do it much).  In truth though, I stopped hugging because I didn’t want to.  I found myself uncomfortable with the whole act.  Hugs often feel dishonest to me and that very statement means I that I am carrying some story there.

So, I thought I’d look through my hugging history:

-High school – chubby, mom-figure to my soccer team hugged and carried everyone (resultant back pain ensued)

-College still loved hugging, especially the feeling of hugging big guys so I could feel enveloped.  Began to notice people that were especially bad huggers.  You know, the ones that either pat or lean and keep their body from touching you?

-Post college friends – there is too much drama there that I don’t choose to go into, but this is definitely when I stopped trusting hugs.  Yes, I said trusting.  Because this is when I stopped trusting people.  Stopped trusting them to be true and honest and good.  So I stopped wanting to touch people, because a hug was too intimate and I didn’t want a hug to be a lie.

-So I finally had a child and having this child meant that I had to be touched.  Constantly.  And this really put the nail in the coffin of hugging.  I certainly didn’t want to be touched by anyone else because I never got to choose the touching.  I began to resent this touching and it took many years to get over it.

-I think I got cats again last fall because I was ready for touch again, I think, but I definitely want my space.  I want to choose my touches, but I am ready for more contact in my life.  (I think there will be more on this later.)

So this person wasn’t the first person to notice it in my life, but they certainly have me thinking.  I have been trying to hug more.  But honestly and only when it feels real.  I won’t hug everyone, but I will hug people who I care about just to remind them in an unspoken way that I do care.  I love to hug my son and my husband (who are both exceptionally good huggers), and I go in for good hugs with my friends.  No half assing it here.

In a time where I don’t necessarily feel like I have a ton of ownership in my life, it is nice to feel this.  A good hug goes a long way.

Sigh

SO.

(sung to melody of children’s “bone” song)

Knee pain is connected to the tibia

Hip pain is connected to the knee

Head pain is connected to the tired mind

Shoulder pain is connected to the … (oh wait, I haven’t figured that one out yet)

Surgery it is, folks.  Sigh.

September 15 I will no longer be whole, but an altered being sewn together by someone other than whoever created me to begin this whole thing called life.

I think I might have to mourn than more than the loss of soccer, but the loss of whole. self.  me. 

Room

Wow.  I was haunted by this book and stayed up until four reading it.  From the voice of a Boy who lives in Room.  This is a great, sad, awesome book.

The Facebook Project

I’ve got a project in the works for this month that I am calling the Facebook Project.  I have recently become annoyed with my use of the facebooks (as I like to call it).  There are perfectly reasonable uses: mom’s group, bookclub, coordinating out of town friends.  I like these uses, but the time I spend (wasting) just looking on the newsfeed is annoying.  This is what I do instead of living my own life.  So I propose to live my own life this month by spending the 1/2 hour (conservative estimate) I spend wasting on the facebooks in phone calls.  I will call one person a day.  Do you want to be on the phone call list?  Let me know and I will happily do so.

I will still do things like posting this awesome photo from our family vacation:

But I will NOT waste my time.  This should be interesting… I’ve kind of forgotten how to talk on the phone. 

Complimentary

I got one of those great compliments today that make me unreasonably happy.  Why, you ask?  Because someone complimented my cartilage.  A rush of happiness flew through me as I thought about how I have such lovely cartilage especially after 25 years of soccer.  This is like the times the dentist compliments my lovely white teeth.

These compliments make me giddy. Unreasonably so because I had nothing to do with it.  I just live my life with my lovely white teeth and awesome knee cartilage.

It makes up for the other things.  You know, the crap you do to yourself that you know you shouldn’t but you do anyway.

I’m going to take my freckles, bumpy waist, awesome cartilage, lovely teeth and bad knee for a walk and enjoy my life as I can.  Sometimes that is harder than others, but all these pieces together are me.  And we are living the best we can.