“We accept the love we think we deserve.”
This is something that has been recently playing on my mind, I could never think of why I would feel this way, it just never occurred to me that maybe it isn’t right?
When it comes to affection from family, close friends and meeting new people, I hate it.
I hate being touched in any sort of way, in some terms, for example, when it comes to hugging some of my close friends? I avoid it at the best of times. I can be an emotional support for you, but when it comes to having the support returned? I don’t want it. I avoid it most of the time.
Even when it came down to saying ‘I love you’ to my family, I struggled to say it, since they moved two states away from me, I say it a lot of the time now cause I miss them that much, but for years I struggled to say it to them.
When it comes to hugging people I know through work or even meeting new people, I don’t like hugging, at times it is rude of me to not hug someone that is an elder to me, but…I just don’t have it in me to hug them. This may only ever come out when I’m intoxicated, I become almost the polar opposite, I’m talking to people I don’t usually do, but that happens to almost anyone.
You’re probably thinking, what is it like for you when it comes to relationships?
It’s different, not in the sense that I crave their touch and need it, but…I can stand the physical touch of another human being in that case, because…well, hormones. I’ll blame it on that, because that is a main reason for when I do have that sort of a relationship. It’s so hard to explain how it is different, it’s almost like I..seek for that touch. You could probably even say I’m trying to find myself in their touch, find the acceptance of their affection.
It’s strange, I’ve never been to a doctors or seen anyone about this sort of thing, because:
- I hate the doctors, like just about any normal human being does.
- I’ve hardly ever been to the doctors.
- I sort of have an idea of where all of this is possibly be coming from.
I study psychology and no, I’m not claiming I know every single fucking thing, for one, I’m partially failing it anyways, but you know how a lot of the time people who think or may actually have some serious problems look up information about themselves to try and self-diagnose? Well there have been a few times I’ve done that, most of the time it’s to do with other people, hardly ever about myself.
But another friend of mine studying psychology pointed out something about herself to me and I realised we were somewhat alike.
She pointed out that she might have a low form or whatever you may call it of autism.
She like me, doesn’t like to be touched unless if in some sort of a sexual relationship, doesn’t like showing or giving affection, when we say goodbye to each other we don’t even like hugging each other, she’s a bit of a neat freak, hates people touching and moving her shit. Those are just some of the many qualities that I can think of and that are in some sense similar to how I am.
Besides showing/giving affection, I hate people touching or moving my shit, I like things the way they are, I have a hissy fit (well not really, but I almost bite your head off) and I do this all the time when it comes to my grandparents whom I live with, they have a bad habit for cleaning up my messes, I hate this with a passion, they try to do nice things for me, but I hate it, I want to do things on my own, not be babies.
There is nothing I hate more than being babied. It maybe cute to everyone else, but under no circumstances do the same fucking thing to me, because I will probably bite your head off.
I don’t need to be spoon-fed, I just need you to be family, you’re not my mother, you’re not my keeper, you’re my grandparents.
So, to sum it up, I’m not too sure what may be the problem, it could be because of an incident that happened when I was about 7 years old or so.
Yeah, it’s one of those incidents, but not completely like that.
He was 12 or so and was just one of those…hormonal little boys, I had never seen or felt a penis before so for him to put my hand on his little weiner…well, it was interesting for me, this was at the exact same time that his sister was lying beside me.
The story thickens with them being close family friends, but I’m sure that there is some sort of statistics that show a percentage of sexual harrassment/abuse or whatever it may be classified as happens within family/close friends homes.
To top it off, I went to the same Church as them and saw them every Sunday, there still happens to be days when I still see him now.
It actually continued on for a little while, in the pool he would do something like swim between my legs, it…of course made me feel yuck and now that I think about it, it makes me feel dirty, especially when I know them.
This could be a factor into why I don’t like giving/showing affection, which may or may not be true, but in doing so I would have to talk to someone about it. I can count the amount of people I have told on one hand, my sister (one late morning we were up and were having one of those rare honest moments), the old Bishop of the Church (my sister had told him of what had happened to me, he confronted me about it, he also used to be an policeman so this was an issue he took close to heart), my ex-best friend (a topic I will eventually talk about), my 3 closest friends now (who probably don’t even remember me talking about it), one of my old friends (we slowly drifted apart) and maybe one or two others, but that’s about it, the sum of everyone who knows about that part of me.
None of my family knows and will I tell? Maybe years down the track, maybe never, maybe they’ll one day end up reading this and find out. Ha. Who knows?
This is just one of the many issues about myself that’s constantly playing on my mind and needed to let it out, I know I won’t get any answers because no ones reading this but at least now it’s out there.
But for now, I’ll keep it locked away, where only a few people may reach it.