Let’s talk "touch".

If there’s one interesting fact folks learn to be ironic about me, its that I do not like to be touched.

How do I love what I do, then? Because I do.

Let me back track, where this rooted feeling comes from… as a matter of fact, my mother tells me the story til this day how as an infant I disliked being touched and especially with sticky hands! I was number 5 out of 6 in my family. I’d imagine my brother and sisters would want to hold me all the time, but I would get irritated at being poked, prodded and left sticky so I found my voice. As this picture shows: of course, I didn’t like to be told what to do either (not much has changed)… which is probably why I have this “eat shit and die look” I gave to my older brother(-also my first best friend) for not letting me go to the chickens—apparently my mother had told him that the chickens would attack me and my brother out of fear for my precious meat, tried to steer me away.

Fast forward to 2020, me at 34 years of age and I can speak candidly and OPENLY about the act of touch, as well as the responsibilities that come with the art.

As a practitioner in the art of touch and movement, I forget how important it is to remind others, the question: “am I (by “I”, it is implied “you” coming from a full cup”).  What can I say, touch can be such a touchy subject (pun intended) so let us start from the beginning.

When you think of touch, what reminds you of the non-verbal language of touch you were first introduced with?  For me (since I cannot speak for you), I grew up in an Hmong household where language and physical affection were not a common tool to show love.  What I lacked in physical and verbal reassurance, it made up with sibling companionship and hard work with comradery.

Massage was a tool used to convey concern and respect to your elders, which is where you can thank my dad for my freakishly strong thumbs. In Thailand and many other Asian countries I’ve travelel to (Laos, Cambodia, India, Nepal, China, Taiwan, Indonesia.. more to come), massages were a part of communal life. They were done on the streets, a break from gardening, after/before dinner in the middle of the living room/communal space, on sides of temples.

It wasn’t until the pivotal moments of grieving (of my partner and decline of my dad’s health), that discerning others actions had an impact on me (made me feel a certain way). I have learned that acts of service (like any other love language) from a human being can be used to manipulate others.

I often found this theme (as I’m sure you have, as well): there are many folks out there quick to lend a helping hand, because it’s easier to help/fix others than prioritizing self.

I’m in the business of staying in my lane, coming from a place of wholeness (intentional doing my work to keep my cup full) and teaching you to honor self in the process. As an integrative body maintenance therapist and breath coach, I hold the standard of “checking myself before I wreck myself” in the famous lyrics of Ice Cube.

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So, what does this have to do with touch? Sticky hands? Aside from straight up hygiene, touch is an act of service. Whether you are giving touch, receiving touch. There is a responsibility to give, as well as receive. I asked the question at the beginning, “are we coming from a full cup” because we don’t realize that when we do not have our basic physiological needs met (in Maslows hierarchy).. the imbalance in one basic need, causes the human instinct to find ways to fulfill those needs in other aspects (even if it is unhealthy for us. eg-over indulging in food creating a codependent relationship of self soothing, sleep deprivation causing hasty decisions, lack of healthy touch-creating an incestual relationship/expectation—-this can be something as innocent as parents who need physical touch and justify them by snuggles with their kids-only, because they aren’t getting it from a partner).

In these next few entries, I will try and unpack my approach to touch and why I believe it is so important to be responsible with that act. You will find, that the responsibility runs parallel with other aspects of your life and it leaves one with the truest question: what is my intention?

Thanks for visiting. Speak to you soon!!

—g

The Gift of Touch.

When I was 23 years old, I lost my best friend and partner in life.  He passed away at 27 years of age.  Life as I knew it, had crumbled and I was learning how to navigate a new way of living, without.  It was the summer before my last semester in college.  I had moved 3 times that summer.  Judged for what I did.  Judged for what I didn’t. With barely any money to even pay for flowers for his funeral, let alone for my bills during the shock of his death. It was a real humble pie serving, needless to say.

If I could crawl in a rock (as most days I wanted), it would help me stomach a little more each day (or, so I thought).  Of course, I held my breath and powered through, but let’s be honest, I could not have gotten through that valley (and dark knight of my soul) without the support of so many people.  

And although, it took me many years to adjust to a new way of living, something changed in me the day I got my first massage.  Receiving was a foreign concept to me (I was bred to be a doer and a giver), something Universe challenged me in that walk, humbly I have acclimated to the process (without much of a fight these days).  This particular gift was from one of my sisters, who gifted me the “gift of touch”... it reminded me, just as the day of his death: naked, vulnerable, impressionable, I was at the mercy of Universe.  Wherever I blew, I couldn’t change anything and yet could feel everything.  But that’s life, right? A lot of times, we forget we’re all coming from somewhere… and if hurt, then in auto-pilot “defense mode”, we guard up. For me, at that time in my life, I had no fight in me. It wasn’t that I gave up, I just realized, I need not swim against the crashing waves.

For once (many times over, now) I gave in. As the therapist began to apply creme on my back… The knots of judgement and anxiety began to slowly unravel in my belly and tears began to stream down.  At that time in my life, I did not have the words or knowledge of what that massage did for me, but all I knew is that it made life a little lighter for me.

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Present day Gao, would have taken the time to talk to Gao (then) about the importance of touch. How we don’t realize that we store emotions and memories in our bodies as unnecessarily files (because we may not have the capacity to process them at that moment). How touch and movement allows these hoarded files to move on and how they do not identify who we are becoming.

Emotional release (the outburst of tears or what I like to say “the exorcist moment of uncontrollable water works from the eyes”) is a natural response when we give the body permission to sit and listen (this does not mean that you will have emotional releases every session), but that it comes with the territory of coming to your body. There are recent studies on the phenomena of animals and PTSD, although nature has been used as a great observation and inspiration (since the beginning of time), one can see the process of fight or flight and how it takes a toll on the body (in this case an impala): shock, recollection and shaking off of trauma are essential in an animals instinct (just like morning stretching :) ). We humans forget, that waiting in traffic, meeting deadlines, striving for other’s approval and standards, keeping up with the Richardsons are a FEW examples of the stressors we put on ourselves, with no resources of shaking that shit off (literally, pardon my potty mouth) and we don’t realize the zombies we become to ourselves and others.

Yes, I know.. all from one massage. The gift of giving one the opportunity and permission to be in the body, is priceless and such a lifetime of work. Take it from me 10 years later (after my first paid massage) and yet, still getting to know this masterpiece (my body) creator has given me to steward.

When was it the last time you were touched… no expectations (not fulfilling someone else’s needs or maybe expecting something in return)??

Just a thought.