Wait, I’m a Hugger Now?

I have never been one to want to snuggle.  Mama says that even as a small child I did not want to be held.  Physical Touch is not my love language.  I don’t even want my children to hang, I mean hug on me.  I mean, it’s so confining.  Claustrophobic really.  I need my own air.  I don’t want to suffocate on your carbon dioxide.   

This needs to be unpacked.  I am sure there is a psychological reason for not wanting to be smothered, I mean loved by way of touch.  Well, let’s qualify that a little.  A squeeze on the arm or a pat on the back is perfectly acceptable.  Just don’t hang on.  The internet tells me that this is because I was not hugged as a child (false) or that I have self-esteem issues (probably true).  I can see the validity of both arguments.  One of them is certainly feasible as a factor.   

But…a shift has happened in me that has created a desire to hug people.  Jim says it correlates to covid and our isolation.  That may be true and is probably part of it.  I argue that I don’t really enjoy people that much.  No really.  I am an introvert that very much likes to be alone despite the appearance that I seem very outgoing and fun.  Crowds wear me out.  Small gatherings, too.  I feel so much pressure to talk and be charming.  I can do it, but I don’t love it.  It’s taken Jim 20 years to figure this out.  He has finally realized that it’s not personal it’s just that I am ready to be quiet when I ask to go to my room.   

So why in the world do I greet people with a warm embrace now?  It did happen after covid.  Jim is right about that.  I’m just so surprised that I missed people.  (Not all people, obviously.)  No.  That can’t be right.  I think it is more of a desire to comfort.  Maybe extra maternal instincts kicked in.  The young ladies in the youth Bible study I became involved in may have been the driving force of this.  I remember feeling the need to express my love for them with a physical gesture, hoping that I could convey how much they were loved no matter what the week had held for them or what choices they had made or what words had been said about/to them.  I don’t know if they got that from my hugs, but I do know that they greet me with a hug now.   

Also, I think my last baby, Mac, increased my need for snuggles.  I knew as I held him, he would be the final child I would birth.  I relished every minute of holding him.  (I am definitely reaping what I sowed now.  He has a strong desire to hold me at all times.  He is 10.  It is a bit of a nuisance.)  I also look longingly at baby pictures of my other boys and wish I could hold them one more time as their tiny selves.  That translates into my holding on to them as boys, er young men, that are taller than me.  Omg.  I am Mac.