I Miss Hugs

I'm a hugger.  I've always been a hugger.  I'll hug you if you reach out to shake my hand.  I can't help myself, and while I understand that many people are hugphobic or don't like physical touch, I'm not that person.  I crave hugs.  I crave administering hugs.  Physical touch is in my DNA. It is part of my culture. That notwithstanding, even if it weren't part of my culture or in my DNA (which I will argue the point most passionately) I would still be a hugger.  I've been told that I am the huggiest of huggers. I will never be the one letting go. You'd have to let go first.

I'm a fucking great hugger.  And I want to hug again.  I miss hugging.  This whole thing sucks.

"I Love Me Too!"

If you ask my kids to tell you a favorite memory of my dad, other than the one about O J Simpson hiding in our attic, I think one of the first things they would say is they remember how whenever they would say; "I love you, Grandpa", he would always respond; "I love me too!"

That scenario didn't begin with them. It was a long-standing script that Dad used all the time with me when I was growing up as well. I still hear his voice saying it.  I even remember my response would be to go and punch his arm, or roll my eyes.  But I knew that if I said it to him, I'd always get the same response.  Once, in my teens, at one of those Daddy-Daughter moments, I said it while I hugged him, my head nestled against his big, broad chest. The moment rushed over me in my affection for this father of mine that I adored and the words came gushing out. In return, he gave me his typical response, and... I broke into tears.  His eyes widened in horror.  Dad never responded well to tears.

     "What?  What did I do?"

     "Dad, can't you just once say; 'I love you too'?  Just once?"

     "Oh. Umm. Yeah, yeah, ok. I uh, I love you too. Ok?"

After that, I think he avoided hugs from me until after high school, fearing overt teenaged emotions and angst and that he might actually have to say that dreaded phrase again.

Even when the kids were born, one after another in what felt like quick succession, he couldn't deliver those four words without his usual rift.  When he came to visit each one of them for the first time, I'd say upon his departure; "I love you, Dad". Smiling with the pride of a new grandfather who'd been doting over the babe in his arms, he'd respond in the usual way. I smiled as he'd leave. As they grew, the kids came to expect that response and it always made them giggle. He'd look at me when the exchange would bring about the giggle fits along with "Oh Grandpa! You're silly!"

I don't know exactly when it changed.  But I do know that the very last time I saw my father alive, on a visit to his home in Nevada, we were packing the car and preparing to make the drive home. The kids all gave him hugs and they laughed when the usual "love banter" transpired.  "I love you, Grandpa!" and they all responded in chorus with him; "I love me too!"  Standing next to him on the curb, I leaned in for a hug. He held me longer than usual. I held on longer than usual, my face nestled into his no longer big, no longer broad chest.  "I love you, Dad."  The longest pause, and then; "I love you too, Pua." And right then and there, I knew I'd never see him again.  I think we both knew.

I miss that guy more than anyone could ever possibly know. The truth is, as annoying as I thought his response was to those four little words, I'd give anything to hear him say them again.

A New Lifeline

"If you love deeply, you're going to get hurt badly. But it's still worth it." - C. S. Lewis

I've taken the leap away from FB on social media in the past.  But I never got rid of the icon or uninstalled the app on my phone before. I've also never made "the big announcement" on those occasions that I "tried" to leave either.  So this is new territory, and I have to admit I'm so happy to have this place to run to.  It's like an old friend. It's always here. It doesn't judge me. Well, ok. It has judged me when I've stepped over the boundaries and tried to pretend I knew how to write code or maybe spruce things up. So I stopped doing that. I know my blog designer is out there somewhere. Occasionally peaking in to see if I'm still here mucking about (Hi Matt!).

So here we are. I'm having a really rough time. Nothing new, and nothing that won't transpire again. Again, I'm brokenhearted over things I really have no control over other than to re-evaluate and take that shitty self-inventory of where I may be at fault or have some accountability. I shrug my shoulders as I say that, like a petulant teenager who says "whatever" as they walk away. But the reality is that I don't really know where I went wrong. Actually, it goes back to a trust issue. I trusted too easily again and I let my guard down. If I ever had a guard. Charlie and the kids always tell me that I'm too trusting and I give away parts of myself too easily. It's a downfall. It's that damned tender heart.

Anyway, I walked away. Again. But hopefully this time for a long enough time to let some healing happen in a more permanent way. The wisdom of Epictetus tells us that it's not what happens to us but how we react that matters. I'm SO horrible at taking in wisdom and actually applying it to my life. I'm emotional and I react hastily. A character flaw that I am not proud of, and one that has NEVER brought me any kind of resolution that was satisfactory. It's puzzling to me that after all these years, I still can't seem to put this into practice. However, I think this time, for me anyway, things might actually change. I'm really going to try my hardest.

I'm in a pain right now that is mind-numbing and excruciating.  But that doesn't mean I have to take people down with me. That doesn't mean I have to lash out at those I feel have hurt me. Nothing will change from that. Nothing will be made better. Most importantly, that won't heal my hurt. I really need to come to the realization that things that are important to ME, aren't necessarily important to anyone else.

In that respect, I'm about to use this safety zone of mine for a teaching tool for myself.  Not as a mother. Not as a wife. But as Pua; the almost 60 year old woman who can hopefully, even at this late stage, find some way to grow from it. I have walked from FB. I've decided that even texting is something I hope to do less of.  If I have time to text, I have time to call. If I have time to complain, I have time to lift up. I will email less, and use stationery and a stamp more, even though I think I'm already someone who is damn good at that. I will pick up a book instead of watch tv. I will start writing again. I will TRY to complain less about things that no one really cares about...mostly because it didn't happen to them. So I won't burden them with my woes.  I'm coming here. I will run here. I will allow myself to do that here. Because this is mine. As long as this blog exists, it is mine.

Last night, I opened a book for the first time in a long time.  Last night, I listened to a meditation session.  Last night, I fell asleep without any "assistance". That is another thing that hasn't happened in awhile.  Hopefully I can maintain this method of self-help.

I can't change what is happening in the world, other than to do my part.  I can't change how people feel about what is happening in the world. I can't change anything about anyone but myself. I have to accept that I may never get the kind of reciprocity or acknowledgement that I hope for.  Change always beings with the person in the mirror.  As they say; better late than never.

A new journey begins.