I used to think I didn\u2019t like physical touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For years, I associated it with discomfort, with feeling unsafe, with wanting to shrink away. I told myself I just wasn\u2019t the kind of woman who craved closeness. I started to believe that something in me had gone cold.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But yesterday, I had my hair washed at the salon. The way they scrubbed my scalp, the way warm water flowed over my head, the way their hands stayed steady and kind\u2014it completely disarmed me. I didn\u2019t expect that. My eyes closed without trying. I didn\u2019t want it to end. For a moment, I wasn\u2019t thinking or bracing. I was just\u2026 safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then today, during a pedicure, I got a foot massage\u2014and I melted again. I realised I wasn\u2019t uncomfortable at all. I felt soft. I even felt\u2026 seen. And as I sat there letting someone care for my body, a quiet memory returned: the foot massages I used to get with my mum when I was young. Just the two of us, the only girls in the house, spending time together. That\u2019s what we did to bond. To slow down. To enjoy each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So maybe it was never that I didn\u2019t like touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe my body was just trying to protect me from the kind that didn\u2019t feel safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
There\u2019s a kind of touch that feels heavy, disconnected, even threatening. It makes the body want to freeze or flee. That was the kind of touch I had in my past relationship. I hated it. I dreaded it. And eventually, I learned to disconnect from my own skin just to get through it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But there\u2019s also a kind of touch that feels warm and safe. Gentle. Grounded. The kind that helps your body exhale. The kind that says, \u201cYou don\u2019t have to be on guard anymore.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n That\u2019s the kind I\u2019m remembering now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n It\u2019s strange and beautiful to realise that what I thought I had lost\u2014I never really lost. It was just waiting for the right moment to return. And maybe this is what healing looks like sometimes. Not fireworks. Not breakthroughs. Just a quiet moment where your body says, \u201cI remember this. I feel safe now.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n I don\u2019t hate touch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n I hated being touched in ways that made me feel unsafe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n And now, slowly, gently, I\u2019m coming home to the parts of me that still love softness. That still crave comfort. That still carry the memory of being nurtured.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Maybe this is the beginning of something new. Or maybe it\u2019s just a return to who I\u2019ve always been. Either way, I\u2019m not rushing. I\u2019m listening. And I\u2019m letting myself be held\u2014by memory, by tenderness, by choice.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I used to think I didn\u2019t like physical touch. For years, I associated it with discomfort, with feeling unsafe, with […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5,6,2,7,8],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3788","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-at-home-in-my-body","category-coming-back-to-myself","category-life-and-livelihood","category-love-redefined","category-notes-from-life","category-raising-humans","category-the-quiet-bloom"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3788","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=3788"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3788\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=3788"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=3788"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blog.graceful.co.ke\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=3788"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}