I believe in head pats. They make me complete and restore the wholeness I lost as a kid.
Growing up, the stimulus of “touch” was always a negative phenomenon to me. My family believed in legalistic religious roles and the sense of touch was a taboo rather than something to be accepted. It was a mode to transmit anger and wrath rather than affection and comfort. I remember being hit frequently as a “troubled” kid. My father had a terrible temper and the slightest disturbance a slap or kick. Growing up in a sexually abusive family, just the idea of someone coming in to my 3 foot bubble made me sick to the stomach.
Touching was also bad outside the family. According to Islam’s rules, you are not allowed to touch anyone of the opposite gender after a certain age (9), but legalism certainly prevented any opposite sex interaction at all. By this time, I was so scarred with the entire concept of touch, that I just avoided the entire scene. In traditional formal settings when people hug each other etc., I would always pretend to be sick, or simply disappear from common sight. I was so averse to the entire concept that at the airport when I was leaving all by myself to the USA and leaving everyone behind, by departing gesture was a wave!
Going through college and then work, I continued adapting and avoiding the sensation. The idea got modified as well as internalized. I concluded that as long as I did not “feel” any emotions behind a touch, they were ok. So high fives and handshakes with the boys, hugs and more from pretty girls were always there. However, the moment I detected any sort of genuine feeling for a person, I removed myself from their touch. This habit raised a few questions, broke a few relationships but more than that left me terribly empty and thirsty for touch.
While working, I made friends with a girl who introduced me to Christianity. She spoke of God as someone she knew personally, and guided me through the terribly scary route of conversion. I threw tantrums, yelled and screamed and during the entire time she demonstrated nothing but love and patience. I started letting first people and then slowly God in to my life. On one of the most important evenings in my life, when I went to the church to talk to a pastor with her and afterwards was just expressing my hurt and pain and struggles, she offered me a head pat. Nothing violating my 3 foot bubble too much. Just a simple “pat pat pat” gesture, which I accepted. It was the first time I had ever experienced a positive sensation of touch. And it changed my life.
I still hesitate in “touchy” situations, but I believe that head pats can heal. Simple gestures can fill holes in our hearts and transmit messages which we may not even be ready to accept. I believe that God’s love can be found in the simplest of things, even in a friend’s head pat.
Growing up, the stimulus of “touch” was always a negative phenomenon to me. My family believed in legalistic religious roles and the sense of touch was a taboo rather than something to be accepted. It was a mode to transmit anger and wrath rather than affection and comfort. I remember being hit frequently as a “troubled” kid. My father had a terrible temper and the slightest disturbance a slap or kick. Growing up in a sexually abusive family, just the idea of someone coming in to my 3 foot bubble made me sick to the stomach.
Touching was also bad outside the family. According to Islam’s rules, you are not allowed to touch anyone of the opposite gender after a certain age (9), but legalism certainly prevented any opposite sex interaction at all. By this time, I was so scarred with the entire concept of touch, that I just avoided the entire scene. In traditional formal settings when people hug each other etc., I would always pretend to be sick, or simply disappear from common sight. I was so averse to the entire concept that at the airport when I was leaving all by myself to the USA and leaving everyone behind, by departing gesture was a wave!
Going through college and then work, I continued adapting and avoiding the sensation. The idea got modified as well as internalized. I concluded that as long as I did not “feel” any emotions behind a touch, they were ok. So high fives and handshakes with the boys, hugs and more from pretty girls were always there. However, the moment I detected any sort of genuine feeling for a person, I removed myself from their touch. This habit raised a few questions, broke a few relationships but more than that left me terribly empty and thirsty for touch.
While working, I made friends with a girl who introduced me to Christianity. She spoke of God as someone she knew personally, and guided me through the terribly scary route of conversion. I threw tantrums, yelled and screamed and during the entire time she demonstrated nothing but love and patience. I started letting first people and then slowly God in to my life. On one of the most important evenings in my life, when I went to the church to talk to a pastor with her and afterwards was just expressing my hurt and pain and struggles, she offered me a head pat. Nothing violating my 3 foot bubble too much. Just a simple “pat pat pat” gesture, which I accepted. It was the first time I had ever experienced a positive sensation of touch. And it changed my life.
I still hesitate in “touchy” situations, but I believe that head pats can heal. Simple gestures can fill holes in our hearts and transmit messages which we may not even be ready to accept. I believe that God’s love can be found in the simplest of things, even in a friend’s head pat.
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