Can it be my De La Clothes?
Two stories from this weekend.
First story:
I was a having brunch with a (married) friend and I mentioned I was going to go get a massage afterwards. She said something like, "Oh, that's nice," and something in her tone felt weird and made me want to rationalize why I was going...I guess I thought that she was indicating I was being extravagant or something. So I was in the middle of this spiel about how I rarely can afford a massage anymore and how since I'd gotten laid off I couldn't afford many luxuries but blah blah economic stimulus check blah blah new job blah blah extra paycheck this month blah blah blah..." And she said, "Well yeah, but also it's nice because as a single person, it's not always easy to get a lot of human touch and that can be unhealthy to be lacking in, so massage can help with that."
Second story:
I've been doing a massive cleaning project that will probably take up many weekends. This weekend I successfully concluded cleaning out a really huge filing cabinet full of more than 15 years of saved records, writing, and other random stuff. At the back of one of the bottom drawers was a shoebox, which when first opened seemed be full of forgotten electrical cords. But it turned out under those were a whole bunch of letters I'd saved from friends and family and old boyfriends. Two things about this:
1) Some of the cards and letters were so inane, or just running on about nothing special that I couldn't understand why I'd kept them. I thought to myself why I'd saved them, and I know I always used to do this kind of thing because I thought someday when I had kids or grandkids, it might be interesting to them. Now it's looking unlikely I'll have either. But I thought this weekend, "Why the hell would I want to show my grandkids this boring stuff?" And the answer that popped into my head was, "I guess I wanted to show them that I'd been loved." And then I thought, why did I think I'd need to prove that to anyone? Why did I think any future readers wouldn't have believed that without proof?
2) At the bottom of this box I had saved a great number of letters from the man I had a long-term, live-in relationship with for many years. I had no memory I'd saved any of this, or certainly not the extent of what I'd saved. There was even the letter he left behind for me when he moved out of our house for good (why did I save such a painful thing?); and letters from when our relationship was falling apart. But there were also a lot of letters from all the years before that when things were running smoothly; valentines day cards, birthday cards, random notes he left me at different times...many of them expressing deep sentiment. One of them ended with him calling me "my love." I stared at that. And I just couldn't remember anything. I couldn't remember receiving the card. I couldn't remember him ever calling me anything akin to "my love." I couldn't remember those feelings of tenderness exchanged between us. I couldn't remember feeling anything but cut off from that kind of a feeling. I can't remember if when I read that for the first time I felt happy about it or if I returned that sentiment of if all along I'd just felt dead to it and thought I felt something else. I can't remember what it feels like to think you're really in love with someone.
So; concluding question for the weekend:
Is there a point at which, after too much neglect of touch and real mutual affection, that it just becomes impossible to tap into that stuff anymore? Is there a point at which the it becomes irreversible and it's just all numbness; like the receptors for that get wiped out?
Does it mean reminding myself I had connections with others through old letters and getting massages and having occasional sex with someone I'm not completely into, just to be able to have sex, is about all I'm going to be able to expect at this point?
Because that'd just about break my heart.
I shredded the fucking letters, by the way. All of them, from everyone. It felt like a curse on myself if I kept them. I don't want the future me to have to need evidence to prove to someone (or myself) that once, long ago, I had love in my life. I don't want that to be who I become.
I'd like to die with people loving me right until the end. If that happens, there would be no need for proof. So I got rid of them in a gesture of faith that maybe it's not too late. But for some reason I still am feeling afraid of those questions above.
Because if there isn't a point at which tenderness disappears and doesn't come back, wouldn't I have been feeling it by now already?
Comments (9)
Tenderness doesn't disappear, Syl... Our propensity for putting up with bullshit does. This means you held onto the old letters because at the time you needed to. You forgot you had them, then you found them, then you realized that you didn't need them any more. Then you shredded. GOOD!
Now, as for the catty "Well yeah, but also it's nice because as a single person, it's not always easy to get a lot of human touch and that can be unhealthy to be lacking in, so massage can help with that." remark... YES, I SAID CATTY! That's a 'oooh, poor you! You're all alone, all all alone. You have to pay to be touched. Awwwwww' remark. And no... You don't. You get a massage because it feels good. It's why I get massages (when I can afford them). And that was a 'poor you' remark. Discard it. It serves no purpose. Was the massage good? Get out the kinks that just seem to knot up? GOOD! Continue!
1. Posted by Darkneuro on May 19, 2008
I don't understand massage with no happy ending.
2. Posted by Elvis on May 19, 2008
DN: About the comment--if it had come from another person, I would have agreed with you. But I don't believe this particular person meant it that way. In fact, it almost seemed like she was thinking back to herself when she was single or something--it was a very contemplative statement, almost not directed at me, like she was far away somewhere when she said it.
Anyway, knowing this person as I do, I don't think she feels sorry for me at all or thinks she's better because she's married. However, the comment came out of the blue and kind of hit me hard. Perhaps because it was unexpected, and perhaps because I *do* feel a lack of touch in my life because of my choice to stay out of serious relationships, and that is difficult for me. I miss it. But not enough to commit to looking for a "regulated," consistent relationship.
(And of course, behind all that, I am also well aware that given what I know of some people's marriages, coupledom is not necessarily a guarantee of regular physical affection, either. But it is something I require in coupledom if I'm going to couple off, eventually.)
Karl Elvis: A massage just on its own can be a happy thing. Both giving one and receiving one. Though right now I'd like to be on the receiving end for a while.
I wish all of us many happy massages in future; with whatever ending seems best in context.
3. Posted by Miss Syl on May 19, 2008
I just lugged a very large suitcase full of old diaries, letters and juvenilia back from the island. I should burn all this crap, but something keeps me tied to it.
'Is there a point at which, after too much neglect of touch and real mutual affection, that it just becomes impossible to tap into that stuff anymore? Is there a point at which the it becomes irreversible and it's just all numbness; like the receptors for that get wiped out?'
I don't think so at all. I find if I've gone for a long stretch without touch or affection I want it less, day to day. But then you get the fireworks when you do touch someone, fifty times over. You know, with a new lover, how it's so electric if they brush against you?
If you mean neurobiologicallywhatsit, then new connections are made very easily between nerve paths and the - wait, I don't really know what I'm talking about. Just, I think the receptiveness is always there.
4. Posted by nikki on May 20, 2008
I don't know what to say....
1. I never thought about what it would be like to not have human touch for long periods. (I've been married since the beginning of time.)
2. When I read this I feel guilty for having rejected a touch or caress just because I was tired or bored or just uninterested.
3. I needed to be reminded how lucky I am to have someone who wants me everyday, anyday, anytime and loves me unconditionally.
Is it appropriate for me to say these things in this context? If not, I apologize, Ms Syl.
But thank you for writing such a soul-baring post and opening my eyes.
5. Posted by Charlotte on May 20, 2008
Is there a point at which, after too much neglect of touch and real mutual affection, that it just becomes impossible to tap into that stuff anymore? Is there a point at which the it becomes irreversible and it's just all numbness; like the receptors for that get wiped out?
I don't know. I worry about this a little, myself. My life has been pretty strange the past several years, and while I want an entirely different kind of life, if I were to be honest, I'd have to say I'm used to things being a certain way; keeping my distance from people, for instance. I often wonder whether I'll be able to build the life I want when I move, given that.
6. Posted by Hiromi on May 21, 2008
Now I'm going to worry.
What happens in the lack of any human touch? Like, years and years and years of lack? Cancer? Insanity? Hives? Chicken farming?
7. Posted by Circe on May 23, 2008
Circe, you have kids. You're not lacking in human touch; you're cool. I'm not talking about just ROMANTIC touch. I mean any at all. I live alone. I have no kids. My closest family lives in another state. And my cat is not the snuggling kind; I can't hug her for more than six seconds before she's pushing me away.
The most touch I get are handshakes at work and the occasional hug hello and goodbye from a friend. I miss being able to sit next to someone for more than a split second and be able to touch them throughout.
8. Posted by Miss Syl on May 23, 2008
And I just couldn't remember anything. I couldn't remember receiving the card. I couldn't remember him ever calling me anything akin to "my love." I couldn't remember those feelings of tenderness exchanged between us. I couldn't remember feeling anything but cut off from that kind of a feeling. I can't remember if when I read that for the first time I felt happy about it or if I returned that sentiment of if all along I'd just felt dead to it and thought I felt something else. I can't remember what it feels like to think you're really in love with someone.
I've been going through some of my old letters, too. Similar feelings as the ones you expressed. I have to believe that it's not a complete lie, though. The feelings we exchanged. I've been exploring the idea that the feelings of love, once expressed, never diminish. Neither do the feelings of hatred. And they both must be honored in order to grow, to heal. I've been exploring these ideas over here.
9. Posted by Marc on July 14, 2008