The Power of Touch

Overall, physical touch has a very healing quality about it.  Think about it.  You hug people who are hurting.  You rub their back.  You put a hand on their shoulder.  You hold their hand.

But sometimes touch is destructive.  There’s an obvious sense of that when abuse takes place.  Abusive touch does not have to be hitting or grabbing.  It can be touching someone as a means of control.  When a person knows they are going to experience abuse, the slightest touch of the abuser can be a method of reminding the victim the pain they can inflict.  But it’s not just that.  If I know someone hates to be touched, and I insist on touching them without their permission, that can be abuse.  Or if I know someone is ticklish and I tickle them incessantly, that can be abuse.  Touching someone in a way that makes them uncomfortable, especially if it is not for the purpose of therapeutically working through their discomfort, is showing a lack of regard for their needs.  Maybe you don’t consider that abuse.  But please be mindful that it is still destructive to that person.  It certainly is not showing love for them.

But what about when touch is destructive and it’s not because of any intention on the part of the person doing the touching?  I refer specifically to people who have chronic pain conditions for whom physical touch can be excruciating.  Those around us have no idea how much pain we are in.  They don’t know that we are facing something that seems insurmountable in shaking their hands or being patted on the back.  There is no malicious intent on the part of those who extend the hand of friendship.  In fact, just the opposite is true.  And yet, that touch can be just as destructive as the person who intentionally smacks you in the face.

I have been struggling with this recently.  It has been a long time since my pain condition flared up to the point where a slight breeze creates agony.  And now, while I’m back in school, it has flared up again.  I sometimes find myself hurting so much physically that my emotions get all thrown out of whack.  I just want to sleep.  Part of it is being tired.  Pain takes a lot more out of a person than most people realize.  But it’s not just that.  Sleep is a place where I don’t feel that pain.  So sometimes, I find myself wanting to sleep all the time just because it lets me escape.

I wanted to run away this morning in church during fellowship time.  Shaking one more hand, being accidently brushed by passers-by, being bumped and jostled by the adorable little ones running around, all of it sounded like more than I could handle.  And I was angry at myself.  I want to get to know these people.  I want to be invested in their lives.  I want to spend time with them and their children and just live life with them.  But then there’s the pain.  How many times can you politely decline to shake someone’s hand?  How many times can you be bumped without feeling the need to lash out?

I love hugs.  Hugs are a wonderful, healing thing.  And yet, there have been times recently where I just wanted to go stiff as a board.  Not because I didn’t want the hug.  And not even because the hug itself hurt, but because the person I was hugging was wearing some flowing garment that would brush my skin and I knew it would hurt.

What do you do?  You can’t very well avoid people all the time?  And even if you could, I wouldn’t want to.  I love people.  I love spending time with them.  But they don’t understand.  They don’t know what’s going on.  And most of the people I interact with would care enough to change their actions to not be inadvertently destructive.  But in so doing, they would touch on the other element of all of this.  The emotional piece.

Feeling like I can’t do everything I normally do, knowing I can’t exercise the way I like, restructuring the way I go about my day so that I can make sure I don’t get too exhausted, these are hard things in and of themselves.  They make me feel helpless.  They make me feel dependent.  They wound my pride, in all honesty.  Add to that the people around me changing the way they respond to me so as not to hurt me… I don’t like feeling fragile.  I don’t like needing help.  I don’t want to have to ask someone to cut my meat, do my hair, or stop touching me.

I just need a hug…

But then a hug hurts sometimes.  How do you balance that out?

The answer is… you don’t really.  There is no happy medium when it comes to chronic pain.  There are good days and there are bad days.  There are shifts within the days themselves.  There are times where the pain of flowing material is totally worth it because I just need that hug so desperately.  And there are times where I just have to sleep because that’s the only thing I can do.  There are times where I have to push myself to do things because I know that being sedentary will make things worse.  And there are times where I have to acknowledge my own limitations, accept them for the temporary setbacks they are, and let the people around me serve me.  Not expecting them to do everything for me, but accepting their genuine offers of assistance.  Letting them love me even though in my apparent helplessness, I feel unworthy of that love.

It’s amazing what physical pain can do to the mind.  It somehow translates into feelings of worthlessness at times.  And I have to combat those moments with truth.  The truth that I am loved, I am accepted, I am chosen, I am adopted, I am blessed with every spiritual blessing (Ephesians 1).  Sometimes the lies get too big.  And the depression that ensues, even if short-lived, makes the pain worse.  Which turns the whole thing into a nasty spiral.  I push on.  I know my anchor will hold and so in the midst of this storm, I hold on, knowing that I am being held even more tightly.  And nothing, NOTHING, is going to take me out of my Father’s hand.  Not me.  Not this pain.  Not even death.  Nothing is going to remove me from this wonderful family to which I now belong (Romans 8:38-39).

Praise God that even in this, He is faithful.  He is good.  His love for me is far beyond anything I can comprehend.  And He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all that I ask or think (Ephesians 2:20-21).  I am not alone in this battle (I Peter 5:8-11).  I have brothers and sisters who love me and take excellent care of me.  I have a great big God who knows what He’s doing.  And by the way, He will be glorified in this.

And so, my dear friends, we come to the end of this update.  Please know that as discouraged as I can get, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that even this is good.  I praise God for this pain.  It keeps me humble.  It teaches me to be vulnerable (in a healthy way).  It stretches my faith.  It lets me lean on my wonderful, amazing, beautiful friends who do the little things for me that I just can’t do right now.  But most of all, it is part of God’s plan, so even if I could not see the good things, I know that it is good.

I leave you with this: For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Jeremiah 29:11