Tuesday November 1, 2016
from a Facebook post
Every time I approached him with my arms out he thought I was going to hit him. It made hugging very tense. It made playful physical contact a struggle. I didn’t know how to convey to him that I was safe. That I wasn’t going to hurt him–that I didn’t want to hurt him. At first it was endearing. I had to compensate for his jumpy disposition. But then it didn’t dissipate. It didn’t quell with work. Eventually I thought, yes he might need me but I need to be touched. I need to be a comfort to him not a cause for concern. How can I be myself when I’m not allowed to act on my impulses? What if not being allowed to hug really is the deal breaker? And so I told him. As gently as I could. That this is me admitting. I’ll stop now but I won’t be staying.