Don't Touch Me!
We inherited a litter of puppies to find homes for this spring again. The itinerant workers who "own" the mom are never here when the puppies arrive so mom and brood end up down here. 2 got good homes, 2 disappeared and we are left with one. He is 3/4 Siberian Husky or Malamut. He does NOT want to be petted or touched. We call him Rootie since he loves digging.
Rootie is incredibly alert. He watches everything. He follows along at a distance and settles in a few feet away when I work outside. He licks my fingers and enjoys my food. He likes to come in but doesn't like to go back outside. He wants to be where the action is as long as he is on the sidelines out of reach. I presume he doesn't feel safe but I have no idea why.
Of course I am anthropomorphizing here, but he reminds me of myself. I mostly kept myself at arms length away from others, both physically and emotionally. For my part I was keeping myself safe but I also removed myself from the love and affection of others. I even found an acceptable way to do it. I took pictures. I can't play because of the camera and taking photos. I never did anything with them. I didn't even take many. It was safe. I could be there without getting too close.
I keep telling Rootie that I would love to pet him, that it would feel good. And besides it is the puppy's job is to give comfort by allowing such contact. He is not impressed. He is laying here 6 feet away, watching. How much of my life did I stay arm's length away while complaining no-one loved me? Far too much. Now I am recognizing that I was the one who shunned the contact. I was keeping myself safe. Safe and separate.
From where I sit now, I see no danger. That obviously wasn't how I felt growing up. It's curious that I waited until dad died to pull much of this together. We had gotten 90% of the way there but even then, in the last weeks, there was a part of me saying, "Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt so much when you die." I used the excuse that he wasn't as mentally available as I would be needed. I guess I trained him not to try to touch me. I didn't know how to touch him at those deep places then either.
I hope he knows how much more highly I have come to regard him. I hope he helps me sort out the couple areas of my life I know I still have in a tangle because of beliefs I built keeping myself safe. finally I feel myself becoming softer. Maybe touch is a good thing. Rootie, are you listening? You can train me not to touch you but we both will miss out on something special.
Rootie is incredibly alert. He watches everything. He follows along at a distance and settles in a few feet away when I work outside. He licks my fingers and enjoys my food. He likes to come in but doesn't like to go back outside. He wants to be where the action is as long as he is on the sidelines out of reach. I presume he doesn't feel safe but I have no idea why.
Of course I am anthropomorphizing here, but he reminds me of myself. I mostly kept myself at arms length away from others, both physically and emotionally. For my part I was keeping myself safe but I also removed myself from the love and affection of others. I even found an acceptable way to do it. I took pictures. I can't play because of the camera and taking photos. I never did anything with them. I didn't even take many. It was safe. I could be there without getting too close.
I keep telling Rootie that I would love to pet him, that it would feel good. And besides it is the puppy's job is to give comfort by allowing such contact. He is not impressed. He is laying here 6 feet away, watching. How much of my life did I stay arm's length away while complaining no-one loved me? Far too much. Now I am recognizing that I was the one who shunned the contact. I was keeping myself safe. Safe and separate.
From where I sit now, I see no danger. That obviously wasn't how I felt growing up. It's curious that I waited until dad died to pull much of this together. We had gotten 90% of the way there but even then, in the last weeks, there was a part of me saying, "Don't touch me. I don't want to hurt so much when you die." I used the excuse that he wasn't as mentally available as I would be needed. I guess I trained him not to try to touch me. I didn't know how to touch him at those deep places then either.
I hope he knows how much more highly I have come to regard him. I hope he helps me sort out the couple areas of my life I know I still have in a tangle because of beliefs I built keeping myself safe. finally I feel myself becoming softer. Maybe touch is a good thing. Rootie, are you listening? You can train me not to touch you but we both will miss out on something special.
posted by Patricia @ 2:20 PM
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