Touch & Trauma

(TRIGGER WARNING: INTIMACY/SHUTDOWN/GASLIGHTING/TRAUMA)

I’ve never been the most tactile person. Even with the people I have been the closest with, I struggle to find a balance between what feels comfortable for me and my body, and the desire to express my affection for the people I love. When physical affection seems like the gold standard expected way to show your love and appreciation for someone, i.e. hugs, kisses etc, it can be very difficult to navigate romantic relationships. Especially when you have no idea that your sensory needs may differ from others.

I am a person who is very sensitive to touch. Most of my clothes have rips where tags used to be, I cannot bear to wear tight fitting clothes, and my hair is always in tangles because the sensation of brushing it can be too much. I can often become very easily overstimulated. For example, being caressed or soft touch feels like I’m being tickled by hundreds of tiny spiders crawling all over my skin. Make that touch repetitive, and it starts to feel like a carpet burn. To borrow a phrase from Clementine in the movie ‘Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’, the overwhelming sensation makes me feel like – “I’m f***ing crawling out of my skin!”.

In intimate relationships, this has been a constant problem. My fawn response coupled with my complete lack of understanding of my own sensory needs meant that more often than not, when I’ve felt those alarm bells ringing in my body, that skin crawling shiver that makes me want to disappear, my general response was to dissociate and go numb, afraid that if I expressed how I was really feeling, it would sound like an excuse, or that it would cause the other person to question whether I cared about them or their needs at all. It was infuriatingly confusing, complex and conflicting. I wanted so badly to connect, but the overstimulation was too much, and because I couldn’t explain why it was too much in a way that made any sense to me, it became the easier option to just shut down.

The messages I received in my earliest intimate relationships only served to reinforce the idea that my discomfort, and quite often, my distress, were the price I had to pay in order to have an intimate relationship. The problem always seemed to be with me, that I wasn’t being fair, or that I was being cold and even neglectful. I felt shamed, as the words ‘frigid’ and ‘tease’ were thrown at me and threatened to stick. So I began to believe that I just had to somehow put up with my discomfort. Keep quiet about it, because it only seemed to cause trouble. I learned to ignore my body, tune out, and with that I numbed not only the pain, but the pleasure too. I had no idea that I could ever enjoy intimacy. I longed for it, but it always felt impossibly out of reach. I wondered how I would even begin to explain it to someone when I was so clueless myself. It’s only since realising I’m autistic, and learning about sensory processing differences, that I’m beginning to understand, and while it’s just the tip of the iceberg, it’s at least a start.

I can no longer ignore those alarm bells. I can no longer dissociate as soon as I feel that distress rising in my body. The trauma it has caused over the years is something I’ve only really been addressing in the past year or so, with the support of a wonderful, patient and loving partner who also has sensory differences. Every person deserves to feel safe in their own bodies, and to feel safe enough and supported enough to express their individual preferences and needs. And I know this is not just an autistic thing. The lack of sexual education, not to mention educating people on neurodiversity and sensory processing differences, has meant that people like me go through years of trauma, and often abuse and gaslighting within relationships, with no idea that things can be any other way. I’ve learned that I prefer firm touch, that I like being held but not caressed. I’ve learned to speak up if something doesn’t feel nice, which is a huge thing after years of biting my tongue and feeling numbness. I’m starting to feel pleasure, as my needs are finally being met and I’m taking the time to heal myself, body and mind. It’s by no means an easy thing, unlearning and undoing long standing harmful patterns, being face to face with unresolved trauma, and even trusting in myself again, but I’m getting there, one little step at a time.

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This post has been by far the hardest one I’ve ever written, and if you’ve made it this far, I thank you for taking the time to read it. Every view and like, every recognition means the world to me. A thousand thank yous.

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