Wednesday, June 7, 2017
I’m not going to go into a lot of detail; what could I say that you’d believe?
I’ve never liked to be touched; that little brush of the curly hair, the gentle little cupping of the chin or cheeks as we all do when presented with little babies. Those are the things that have set me off from the time I was born. Mother made all kinds of excuses when family or friends would embrace me; screaming was the result with very few exceptions. Those few who didn’t receive the unwelcome cries knew deep in their hearts why I’d endure their touch when all others received screams and fits whether they’d accept the truth or not.
Mother found early on that cute and stylish baby clothing that included little gloves had a huge calming effect on the baby growing into a toddler as her baby discovered the world with busy little hands; without she’d have a screaming terrified toddler on her hands.
She’d ask people not to touch her child as she had the most perfect answers to those who’d ask why the child always wore long sleeves and some sort of gloves over those little hands. She was quick to distance us if any pressure was put on the set answers with further questions.
I’ve stopped seeing people and closed my shop named the Touch after five years; the burden was just too great and people got crazy with the information I’d provide; they’d literally lose their minds; it became dangerous and exhausting work with countless clients wanting to subpoena me into Court. I now only take clients by word of mouth and charge a premium price for my time cutting the number of people I see from hundreds to just a very few a week; a thousand dollars an hour, but it only takes a touch.
Client 17-1477 I’ll call her Joyce; she’s had depression and anxiety for years, unable to sustain any sort of meaningful relationship having three divorces over the last twenty two years; she’s searching for answers to why she can’t trust and get close to anyone in her life. In just a touch; she knows the answer but she’s closed it off and shut those memories away forever, at least that’s what she’s wanted to do; but the questions just won’t stop. Gently I place on finger on her wrist and get the jolt I’ve come to detest; memories explode, a kaleidoscope of imagines flood my mind, a video of her life plays on fast forward as I scrunch my face with the pain. June 8th, 1985 2:34pm Uncle Eddy babysitting the four year old Joyce finds he’s turned on while changing diapers and molests the child; this goes on for three years.
Client 17-1656 I’ve been summed by the local police and asked to interview an arrestee. With just a touch; a flash of dashingly white light strikes my brain as I place a partial index finger on the back of the arrestee’s hand, my ears ring from the concussion of the point blank explosion of the .357 revolver pointed at the chest of the victim; I feel my hair blow back from the blast screaming through my mind.
Placing my ungloved hand on the back of the restaurant chair to pull it out from the table I get a wash of residual memories of those who’ve come and gone; they wash my mind in sparkling short glimpses of lives lived and memories remembers and those squashed, silences by fear and guilt.
I’ve began working for high level security companies searching for the best candidates to hire. With just a touch……..
From the Ramblings