SKIN Sensitivity

 

It amazes me how sensitive I am these days.

And I literally mean “sensitive”.

 I feel as though I have erogenous zones everywhere. Places that shouldn’t be sensitive have me on edge.

 I’ve been practicing celibacy for years now. And I say “practicing” because those of you who are understand that to be celibate is something you never quite master. Its has and will always be a work-in-progress. Anyone who tells you that they’ve got celibacy down, well, they’re probably a liar. Simply smile, nod your head, and back away… slowly.

 Essentially, I’ve begun to notice that my skin just sets off on a warpath against itself whenever the slightest hand touches me. And even when I’ve initiated the touch, it almost blows my mind how long it takes for my mind to alert my skin to not get carried away. My sensitivity has me worried that my entire nervous system functionality could be in question!

 I remember a few months back I was having a discussion with a male co-worker in the breakroom and I complimented him on a salmon pink sweater that he had atop of a printed collard shirt. While I was administering this compliment, vaguely giving him a job-well-done on his look for the day, I reached out and touched his forearm. And it wasn’t a caress by any means, but a simple gesture. The kind you’d give to get someone’s attention. A friendly gesture. A without-sexual-harassment-infraction-type touch. Anyway, immediately after I touched him I thought to myself: Um, why are you touching him? What was that all about? Even as I quickly walked back to my desk I was thinking about the touch [which in- and of- itself was innocent as touches go] but I clasp my hands together almost embarrassed, thinking: Girl, get it together, you touched his sweater,…. his sweater, it can’t be that serious.

 Then weeks later I realized that the issue isn’t just my fingers either. Any part of my body/skin suddenly tingles with contact unknown. Here’s what happened: I used to keep a chair at my desk for visitors. They’d sit, discuss “work” and would go back to their area. Well on one occasion, I had a visitor of the opposite sex who was sitting in the established “visitor’s chair” and we were actually discussing a procedure at work. In order to reach my file cabinet, so I could garnish a hardcopy of the reporting he was asking about, I swiveled left in my desk chair, towards him, not away from him (mainly because the trip was shorter in this direction) and my left calve brushed his outstretched legs. I stopped mid-swivel and allowed him to pull his legs back so that I could finish my commute to my filing system, but it was hours later, after he’d taken his hardcopy and gone, before I stopped thinking about the fact that his legs touched mine! Yes hours!

 I snapped on myself all day that day. Eve, you don’t live in a bubble. You aren’t a nun for goodness sake! Its not like you purposefully don’t make physical contact. But the more I thought about the moments of contact with men, the more the opening lines of the movie CRASH kept coming back to me.

 Had it really been that long since you’ve been touched that every moment is exaggerated? Every brush, no matter how innocent left numerous synapses firing under the epidermis. This was getting ridiculous. I have to control this situation….. somehow.

 Now here this morning, I’m all bothered by a simple gesture committed by another guy-friend. A stronger touch, but simple all the same. Believe it or not, I see and feel the size of his hand against my skin. And this was hours ago. Yeah, it sounds crazy, but this is where I am. And I really try not to bug out. I try not to read more into these moments because ultimately I know its more me than them! The issue with the touch is that I felt it stronger than it was given.

My skin sensitivity has everything heightened by 1000 and I hope I don’t go stir crazy. Wearing full-body armour or skin suit for the rest of my singleness just to avoid skin-to-skin contact just won’t work. There’s no way to make armored suits look good everyday… even in stilettos!

But, What do you do when casual turns to severe? When a mere brush has you right back to thinking about how long you’ve walked this sexually-abstinent walk.

 It’s a touch for goodness sake! Not a marriage proposal!

 The Apostle Paul said to the younger women: “its better to marry than to burn” (1 Corin. 7:8). Bible scholars way more versed than I would translate that to mean its better to get married and have all the sex you desire than to burn [in hell mind you] for being UN-married having all the sex you desire. At this point, in my current frustrated state, I’d say he meant it’s better to get married than to have autonomous skin that burns with passions/desires created by obscure, mediocre gestures inflicted by men who’s mind is so far from sex with you that its embarrassing to admit his slight touch has you so on edge! LOL!

 Uggghhhh! It’s tough. Its carnal. I know, I know, I should be good.I should be okay. As a good Christian woman, I should be so rooted in the spirit that I’m not phased by anything that doesn’t touch like the Holy Ghost.

 Whateverrrrrrr!

 I guess I’ll never be that saved.

 Truthfully, I didn’t use to think I was touchy-feely, but the fact that my senses are always on alert to how often- or in my case how not often I’m being touched, maybe I am a bit communal when it comes to the physical nature of things.

 I dunno. It could just be me living life as an Eve Un-Yoked. Any person other than us singles may not ever fully understand this struggle of SKIN SENSITIVITY. But if I don’t get this skin thing resolved, I may have to take Paul up on his suggestion.

 Proposals anyone?