I’m not much of a touchy feely person and I have this thing about personal space. When strangers want to hug me, I get quite uncomfortable. So, sometimes intimacy is challenging for me. Yet, I crave it.
Being intimate means showing your vulnerabilities. I’ve spent a lot of my life developing a thick skin to survive mentally and physically, so showing my vulnerable side is difficult for me. It leaves one exposed and more fragile when those weaknesses are exposed.
Most of my life has been spent taking care of others to the point that I feel guilty needing reciprocity. Sometimes I wish for the opportunity and safety to be weak. Being strong all the time gets quite exhausting.
There have been very few people that I could be comfortable enough to be so intimate with. My husband was one of them, but he’s become one yet again that is unsafe to be so with. He’s got PTSD and is an alcoholic. When he’s home lately, he’s been back to his old ways, so I’m in self-protection mode.
My father was one, but he passed away a few years ago. I could tell him anything.
The other person is my best friend, who lives four hours away. He’s the only one who has seen all of my vulnerable side and not taken advantage or belittled me due to those weaknesses. I spent many a night lying in his lap crying while he ran his fingers through my hair and vice versa. At one time, because we were so touchy feely with each other, people began to dispute him being gay and I would have to defend his gayness. He and I would talk often about how we would retire together and live in an old farm house. We would be the freaky queer and scary old crone that the neighborhood kids would be afraid of.
When we moved away from each other, we always knew when something was wrong with the other one and we would call each other. My husband grew jealous of our relationship and would get angry, so I lost contact with my friend. After not talking for a month, I decided to call while my husband was gone. His phone was disconnected. When I questioned a mutual friend, I found out that he was traveling to different parts of the world with a boyfriend. I was so happy for him, but he has been on my mind a bit lately, because he and I had not spoken for six months.
He and I finely were able to talk again tonight. It felt so wonderful to be able to be weak again and exposed. I missed that and I missed him so much.
You see, intimacy doesn’t have to be about sex. It’s about being vulnerable and sharing emotional moments with others.