My husband was leaving for Madurai this morning. Raghav likes to be woken up to say bye, however late he has slept the previous night. So he did the same today. He likes the 'Madurai hug' as he calls it, where all three of us hug each other tight in a small circle. But this morning, he was too sleepy to get up and do that. So my husband just hugged him and said bye, before picking up his bags to leave.
He was already at the door, asking me to open it for him. There was no hug for me. I couldn't take that. I couldn't open the door within and without. He had forgotten to hug me before leaving. And that hurt like hell. I stood frozen and he suddenly realised what he had done or what he hadn't done. He stopped, put his bags down and came back. But I was upset and angry.
Well, I needed and wanted a hug. But I have trouble doing that on my own, I have trouble initiating. It takes a lot of effort for me to just get out of myself and out of my own way, to hug someone else. Most often. And so I waited for him to make the first move. But inside of me, there was no joy. There was the pain of being ignored, not understood, not loved, and even abandoned. I was crying inside, burning inside. These were the 'little' things that I 'expected' of the people I loved so dearly. But except my son, no one else seemed to understand me and love me the way I wanted to be loved. He would just 'know' spontaneously what to do with and for me when I was feeling low. And I haven't seen that kind of empathy with anyone else just yet. These were the thoughts going through my head. And as I was thinking those, the tears from inside started flowing out silently.
I shared what I was feeling with my husband. Raghav woke up and came to us. "What is going on?", he asked us. I was too overwhelmed with my emotions to speak. My husband told him that I was upset, but that he couldn't tell him more just yet. He went away after hanging around for a while.
As we usually do, we spoke our hearts and our minds, to each other. And everything was sorted out for now. I felt better after just sharing what I was feeling. After a long long time, I forced myself out of that hard, strong shell that I had locked myself in and hugged him. I realised then how empty of myself I had to be to really enjoy the hug. Words from a dear friend rang in my ears. Just a week ago, we had shared how we had to be empty of ourselves like children are.
My husband then left. After a while, Raghav asked me why I had been crying. And so I told him all that had happened. I shared with him how I could not be 'empty' like he is when he needs a hug or something else, or when he is interacting with us or someone else. I told him how much he understands me and gives me exactly what I need, without my asking him. I told him how much that means to me and what a great gift he has to know what I need. And then like a little child, I asked my little Guru: "So what do you think I should do or should have done? What do you do when you need a hug?"
"When you need a hug, you should just go and hug someone you love. That's what I do," he said most nonchalantly. Yes, that's what I need to do. That is my challenge. Time to empty myself of myself all over again.
Here is a link to the poem that was inspired by this incident:
Touch-me-not
He was already at the door, asking me to open it for him. There was no hug for me. I couldn't take that. I couldn't open the door within and without. He had forgotten to hug me before leaving. And that hurt like hell. I stood frozen and he suddenly realised what he had done or what he hadn't done. He stopped, put his bags down and came back. But I was upset and angry.
Well, I needed and wanted a hug. But I have trouble doing that on my own, I have trouble initiating. It takes a lot of effort for me to just get out of myself and out of my own way, to hug someone else. Most often. And so I waited for him to make the first move. But inside of me, there was no joy. There was the pain of being ignored, not understood, not loved, and even abandoned. I was crying inside, burning inside. These were the 'little' things that I 'expected' of the people I loved so dearly. But except my son, no one else seemed to understand me and love me the way I wanted to be loved. He would just 'know' spontaneously what to do with and for me when I was feeling low. And I haven't seen that kind of empathy with anyone else just yet. These were the thoughts going through my head. And as I was thinking those, the tears from inside started flowing out silently.
I shared what I was feeling with my husband. Raghav woke up and came to us. "What is going on?", he asked us. I was too overwhelmed with my emotions to speak. My husband told him that I was upset, but that he couldn't tell him more just yet. He went away after hanging around for a while.
As we usually do, we spoke our hearts and our minds, to each other. And everything was sorted out for now. I felt better after just sharing what I was feeling. After a long long time, I forced myself out of that hard, strong shell that I had locked myself in and hugged him. I realised then how empty of myself I had to be to really enjoy the hug. Words from a dear friend rang in my ears. Just a week ago, we had shared how we had to be empty of ourselves like children are.
My husband then left. After a while, Raghav asked me why I had been crying. And so I told him all that had happened. I shared with him how I could not be 'empty' like he is when he needs a hug or something else, or when he is interacting with us or someone else. I told him how much he understands me and gives me exactly what I need, without my asking him. I told him how much that means to me and what a great gift he has to know what I need. And then like a little child, I asked my little Guru: "So what do you think I should do or should have done? What do you do when you need a hug?"
"When you need a hug, you should just go and hug someone you love. That's what I do," he said most nonchalantly. Yes, that's what I need to do. That is my challenge. Time to empty myself of myself all over again.
Here is a link to the poem that was inspired by this incident:
Touch-me-not
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