I have made peace with the feeling of good touch-bad touch. I now know the difference. However, there was a trigger in 2005 which was when I first penned this entry. It is time to allow it to be read by someone else who may be or may have been going through this.
Touch me. I ache for you to reach out to me and let me feel the way your hand feels on my arm. I want you to be brave and put your arm on my shoulder. Can you make eye contact with me without thinking that I am a bad person or that you are?
Do you know that I long for you to lock your gaze with mine and look into my soul. If you can hold my eyes with yours then maybe I will be brave enough to look at my own reflection and see that I am not ugly. Maybe I will see that there is more to me than fear, rejection and ugly scars. Maybe I will see that I am not a bad person.
I need your help. I am begging you to show me the difference between bad touch and good touch. I am hoping that somewhere deep inside of you there is a part that has not been touched in such a way that causes you to be unable to distinguish the difference between good and bad touch. I need your guidance. I need you to be the unbiased and very honest friend that is willing to risk it all to be truthful with me and let me know what is okay.
After being violated physically and emotionally, I became unable to distinguish the difference between good touch and bad touch. Sounds crazy doesn’t it? It feels crazy to me. One day I was able to hug my mother and father, my friends and family without feeling anything but arms, warmth and love. It took abusive mental and physical contact and my being at the wrong place at the wrong time and now I am afraid to even feel the temperature of another person‘s hand on my skin. So if you get in my space to hug me, I will be brave and hug you back. In fact, I will ache to be held by you, as a trusted friend. I will not stay in my body long enough to hold you though. I will escape before I will let my body betray me and let it feel something that goes beyond the physical boundaries between friends and family.
Why do I do that? I believe that I do that because once upon a very scary time, a person close enough to be my father, my best friend and went way too far past a warm and fuzzy hug. He caught me in a vulnerable position and he abused my trust. And then he used my body to satisfy the cravings of his own dark soul. And as he did those terrible things, he used his human touch, his very warm skin and made mine feel like it would explode with desire in one part while he rip and tore at me in other parts. And he listened to me as I begged him to just be my friend the way it was that day and all the days before that terrible night. As he listened to me he sneered at my fear. He even took my fear to a higher level by threatening to do more harm than he already had intended.
I have killed him so many times. I have forgiven him so many times. I have hated him so many times. I have loved him so many times. Now, I just wish I could forgive myself for not slipping out of my body sooner than I did just so that I couldn’t - wouldn’t have to feel the sexual desire that he was trying so hard to get me to feel. I wish that I would have fainted from the pain or checked out entirely just long enough to keep my body from feeling orgasmic. It was the most horrible experience at that point in my life. Nothing could have been worse.