The Hugging Mystery.

Something I’ve never understood is the apparent need in humans to be hugged by a loved one at times of emotional difficulty. I’ve had people come to me for a hug when they’ve been upset, and I’ve had people offer me a hug when I’ve been upset. I’ve never got it because it’s never made the slightest bit of difference. If I’m depressed or anxious or scared or grieving or in any kind of emotional or physical pain, I’ve only ever seen one of two solutions: get rid of the problem or deal with it inside. Hugs don’t work.

This doesn’t mean to say that I don’t understand the need of emotional support. I do; I felt it during the cancer issue in 2018. Sympathy helps a bit, practical assistance helps a little more, and I’ve always understood the value of comfort eating, chain smoking, getting drunk and beating the furniture to a pulp. But not hugging.

Life is difficult for me at the moment, especially in the morning when I feel empty and cold inside, and the whole thing is exacerbated by the perception of a short future consisting only of troubles which will make me feel even worse. And so, it being Christmas, I’m resorting a lot to constant nibbling and the imbibing of alcohol at times of the day when I never usually touch the stuff. That seems natural to me, and I have no sense of needing a hug because such a desire would seem unnatural, weak and ineffective. Odd, isn’t it?

So there you have it. JJ is obviously missing one of the human contact genes. It seems I'm just not made to relate to people as one is supposed to. Or maybe there’s another reason.

(And what's really odd is that I do seem to derive some benefit from having my hand held. By a woman, of course. And it has to be the right woman.)