Hi, I’m a cactus.
I’d like to think I’m one of the pretty ones; the ones with the big flower blooming from among all the pricklies. Still, though — when it comes to being touched, I might as well grow needles and call it a day.
I’m just not a cuddly person. I’m not a complete social weirdo — I can do hugs and such. I can participate in some elements of cuddle culture.
Full-on cuddle sessions, however, are not for me. They make me want to scream and pull my hair out. I don’t even like cuddling with my husband.
Is that weird? I thought it was; I thought I was a bad wife and an even worse mother. It certainly seems like I’m the weird one at times, especially since everyone in my family is cuddly.
As it happens, it isn’t weird at all — it’s extremely common.
Cuddle buddies
Men are commonly advised to cuddle with their partners, especially after being intimate.
I have no idea where this crazy notion came from, but in terms of what women actually want, it’s pretty far from universal. Half of women barely hug their husbands before rolling over and falling asleep, and a third admit that they flat out hate to be cuddled as they fall asleep.
I’m there. It’s already harder to get to sleep as I get older, and when you throw in persistent hip pain (thanks, kiddos) and one ear that consistently gets blocked, it’s a hit or miss experience most nights. It’s also hot and uncomfortable when someone much bigger than you is draped across you, snoozing away peacefully.
It’s not like I don’t love my husband, and we have a wonderful, affectionate marriage. We can Netflix n’ chill together like any other functional couple, and I can handle cuddling on the couch for an episode of The Expanse without losing my mind.
But then, I’m done.
He’s become used to my catcusiness and no longer takes offense, thankfully. He knows it really is me, and not him.
If you’re already in the no-touchy category though, kids are a whole new ball game.
Snuggling, oxytocin, and Romanian orphans
Kids really do need to be snuggled. Those who aren’t held and hugged a lot as children can have some intimacy issues as adults — at least, it can be challenging in our overly-huggy society.
In Romanian orphanages, where children are raised in an extremely unaffectionate environment (the babies and small children even learn early on to stop crying because it’s futile — a terribly sad fact that breaks my cold, prickly heart) children were reported to have messed up oxytocin systems.
With malfunctioning oxytocin systems, even those adopted into loving homes didn’t experience the usual rise in oxytocin while being held by their parents. That lack of oxytocin affects a child’s ability to behave appropriately in social situations, and they can appear to be very distant and uncaring.
This is enough to make me shove my own feelings about being touched aside and scoop up my babies as often as possible. After all, I’m their mother, and mothers tend to put themselves last most of the time, anyway.
It’s what I signed up for, in my own unpopular opinion.
Even if we feel touched out — an extremely common feeling for mothers, who are constantly pawed at by their children — it’s important that we keep that affection going for the sake of our babies. Children who grow up in homes that aren’t “huggy” could end up suffering similar results as the Romanian orphans did.
When it comes to babies, holding them is often the only way to comfort them, and I’ve seen this first hand with my own. They are children, and that’s what they need as they learn and grow. I even enjoy all the baby snuggles I still get from my son, who is nearly two.
There’s a limit, though. More often than not, I feel that familiar surge of panic bubble up if a cuddle has gone on too long or has become too frequent — and it’s okay to step away. It’s just as important to make your own needs a priority, too.
No-touchy
A day’s worth of physical affection and stifling snuggling from my kids leaves me completely touched out. In fact, as an introvert, once the kids are in bed, I have a very strong need for a solid hour of alone time, during which I’m not so much as patted by a single, living soul.
When I don’t get that, or I forgo that to meet the needs of a spouse whose love language is physical touch or a child who doesn’t want to let go, I’ve often gone an entire day without 15 minutes of someone (or a dog, in some cases) touching me.
And that makes me just a little psychotic.
It’s completely understandable. Mothers are still the primary “handlers” of their children, and for stay-at-home-moms, that constant poking and prodding is maddening. Paired with the fact that most men also lean towards physical affection to show and receive love, it’s no wonder that women ultimately put their own needs last 90% of the time.
Further to this, my personal brand of cactus is partially the result of trauma as a young woman. Sometimes, excess physical contact, even from someone I love — even my own child at times — triggers a panicked response that I have very little control over.
But the facts remain the same: children need affection. Marriages need affection.
What’s a cactus to do?
Communicate!
You don’t have to continually put yourself last if, like me, your family loves on you just a tad too much.
I found a simple conversation with my husband was enough to help him understand my literal recoiling at some of his attempts at a hug or kiss. Once I made him understand that it wasn’t him, he seemed to relax a bit, which, in turn, helped me relax and be just a bit more open to touch.
I also found that my daughter was receptive to the idea of personal space, as long as I made it clear that my love for her really did go to the moon and back. My son will learn this one day, too, but I still make myself available for snuggles with both of my kids as often as possible.
I know that one day, those stifling snuggles will disappear, and who knows? Maybe I’ll miss it.
In the meantime, I’ve found solace in daily walks or nightly baths, where I’m left entirely on my own for 20 minutes or so. It’s the little things you do for your own sanity that can make all the difference in the long run.
If you are a cactus too, just know that you aren’t alone — not by a long shot. There are so many of us, we should form a club. A quiet club in which no one hugs ‘hello’ and we sit a respectable distance from each other at all times.
That sounds so nice.
Embrace your cactus-state (see what I did there?) It’s part of you, for better or worse, and it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Cacti are prickly, yes, but they’re also resilient. They are resourceful. They are surprisingly easy to care for.
And when given just the right amount of love, they flower.
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This post was previously published on medium.com.
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You may also like these posts on The Good Men Project:
White Fragility: Talking to White People About Racism | Escape the “Act Like a Man” Box | The Lack of Gentle Platonic Touch in Men’s Lives is a Killer | What We Talk About When We Talk About Men |
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Photo credit: Meritt Thomas/Unsplash