Failure to thrive. In 1969, my high school Psychology professor taught of studies in Russia during the early 1900’s in which social workers at city orphanages discovered that babies who received no physical contact -- cuddling, rocking, kisses, tickling -- beyond the bare minimum of daily maintenance became withdrawn, sickly, and finally died. The conclusion seemed to be that human beings require a certain level of daily skin-to-skin contact in order to survive.
Essentially the adult version of failure-to-thrive syndrome, skin hunger is all too familiar to anyone widowed longer than one day who is honest in their feelings. The loss of our loved one takes us down a road we never thought to travel and leaves us in a crumpled heap upon the floor seeking comfort where none is to be found.
We are bereft and need their touch at time when they are not here to provide that which is missing…the gentle pass-by touch going down the hall, that soft kiss upon the lips at good-bye, the welcoming hug and deeper kiss of hello, the cherishing warm, easy holding of each other on a dark and silent night, the wild, earthy, sweaty passion of lovemaking on mangled sheets...and we emotionally wither just as those babies in the studies.
Vividly sexual dreams of Jim began within days of his death. His touch, scent and voice were as real as if his body were truly upon mine. I would awake breathless and then dissolve into mortified tears. Without any knowledge of skin hunger I thought something must be wrong with me…my husband had just died and here I was dreaming of making love.
Through an online support group for those who are widowed I found kindred, learned about skin hunger, that I was not a bad person for having these feelings and that I was not alone in my desires. While it neither stopped the longing for touch nor the vivid dreams over the next 2 years, I was armed with understanding and ceased to loathe myself for being human and missing that part of our relationship as well as his presence in my life.
One night alone, a few JD and lemonade’s too many in that dark place only the tormented widowed soul understands, the hunger was so intense it left me literally rocking in my chair arms wrapped around myself gasping for breath. The anvil on my heart, the desperate loneliness and deep ache for Jim’s touch on my skin drove me deeper into the bottle and further over the edge. Even in the fog of the drink I was aware of the fact that it was a good thing I was at home, not in some bar picking up some unknown with whom I would regretfully awake in my bed the next morning. A stranger who might satisfy the near overwhelming desire for skin to skin contact, yet, not touch the hole in my heart.
The thirst to be held can become an obsession to which we consider giving in and taking hold of the first available stranger to quench. A dark night of the soul or fall into the abyss of sorrow can lead us to make poor choices.
A friend penned a frank, soul touching verse that grasps both the hollowness and ultimate desire of skin hunger, which she has graciously allowed me to share.
Essentially the adult version of failure-to-thrive syndrome, skin hunger is all too familiar to anyone widowed longer than one day who is honest in their feelings. The loss of our loved one takes us down a road we never thought to travel and leaves us in a crumpled heap upon the floor seeking comfort where none is to be found.
We are bereft and need their touch at time when they are not here to provide that which is missing…the gentle pass-by touch going down the hall, that soft kiss upon the lips at good-bye, the welcoming hug and deeper kiss of hello, the cherishing warm, easy holding of each other on a dark and silent night, the wild, earthy, sweaty passion of lovemaking on mangled sheets...and we emotionally wither just as those babies in the studies.
Vividly sexual dreams of Jim began within days of his death. His touch, scent and voice were as real as if his body were truly upon mine. I would awake breathless and then dissolve into mortified tears. Without any knowledge of skin hunger I thought something must be wrong with me…my husband had just died and here I was dreaming of making love.
Through an online support group for those who are widowed I found kindred, learned about skin hunger, that I was not a bad person for having these feelings and that I was not alone in my desires. While it neither stopped the longing for touch nor the vivid dreams over the next 2 years, I was armed with understanding and ceased to loathe myself for being human and missing that part of our relationship as well as his presence in my life.
One night alone, a few JD and lemonade’s too many in that dark place only the tormented widowed soul understands, the hunger was so intense it left me literally rocking in my chair arms wrapped around myself gasping for breath. The anvil on my heart, the desperate loneliness and deep ache for Jim’s touch on my skin drove me deeper into the bottle and further over the edge. Even in the fog of the drink I was aware of the fact that it was a good thing I was at home, not in some bar picking up some unknown with whom I would regretfully awake in my bed the next morning. A stranger who might satisfy the near overwhelming desire for skin to skin contact, yet, not touch the hole in my heart.
The thirst to be held can become an obsession to which we consider giving in and taking hold of the first available stranger to quench. A dark night of the soul or fall into the abyss of sorrow can lead us to make poor choices.
A friend penned a frank, soul touching verse that grasps both the hollowness and ultimate desire of skin hunger, which she has graciously allowed me to share.
Please note that the language is blunt, perhaps crude to some. Yet, while she gave permission to make changes, it stands in its honesty exactly as written.
now!!
anonymous sex sounds appealing right now
now!!
anonymous sex sounds appealing right now
right fucking now
one night of hard passion, devoid of feeling
no meaning other than
animal instinct--
i'll quietly slip into the bar room
spot my target-
"you, cum with me"
hot and wet I'd mount him
fuck him till he cried
then without a word
get dressed and walk outside
the darkness of anger my
cleverly drawn cape
would make me vanish again.
my frustration eased
i could return to normal
whatever that isf
or a few more years
with no contact.
don't look at me
don't ask my name
don't remember my
hot lips wrapped around you
i plan to forget you in a matter
of hours
a drink
and several hot showers
i'm not asking for
sweet nothing talk
or gentle reflections on love
i'm demanding your iron hard dick
bursting inside my warm glove
fuck me hard
no harder
make the pain in my belly
scream louder than the
pain in my soul
just for now
take me
take me
take me away from myself
just for now
right fucking now.
don't remember me
don't give a damn
i won't be back!
i was gone the moment i entered the room.
(jh2 2/2005)
I thought I, too, was losing my mind when the skin hunger hit. Outlaw, you, jh2 and many others helped me understand I was not insane, I didn't love my late husband any less, this was part of the new "normal" defined by widowhood.
ReplyDeleteI remember wanting to go to the bar and dance place down the road...wanting to pick up some no name...I don't drink, I just wanted to quench the skin hunger. I didn't go...I stayed online with my widow friends. I understand the poem all too well.
I know. I was blown away by the way she nailed the feelings when she sent it to me earlier in the year.
ReplyDeleteIt's so honest I couldn't change one word of it.
Searingly honest , jh2.
ReplyDeletemy god Josie, sooooo powerful. you have taken so much of whats in my head and body and put it on paper much better than i ever could have. Thank God you found a cure for your skin hunger, i continue to pray for the same.
ReplyDeleteOh yeah, Outlaw - you said it all - so raw and so honest and so frighteningly real- so much of what I have felt from time to time through this journey called widowhood. And wanting the pain in your belly to be louder than the pain in your soul - I think I still feel that way a lot of the time. Your last line really hits home: "I was gone the moment I entered the room."
ReplyDeleteunderstanding this post is over two years old...I still want to say thank you! I thought I was losing my mind. I have been dealing wiht this for 10 days, and do not see it ending any time soon. It will be easier to understand from here on, maybe not as easy to live with, but easier to understand!
ReplyDeleteRob - I apologize for the delay in adding your post.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your words.
I can't say the skin hunger goes away, but at least it's now an understood demon.
To quote Matchbox 20:
"I'm not crazy
I'm just a little unwell "
I spent the first year of my widowhood not understanding what in the hell was going on. I ruined a friendship with my husbands best friend because we entered into a physical relationship. He fell in love with me and of course I could not reciprocate so it all ended very badly. No one understands what it is like until they have been through it themselves. I do still at times suffer from skin hunger (3 years on) but I understand it and can deal with it now in a more appropriate manner.
ReplyDeleteI just lost the love of my life6 weeks ago, suddenly without warning. He was 31 and I'm 29 and we'd been together 8 years. This hit so close to home it made me cry in longing and understand. Thank you for this.
ReplyDeleteNickey...I'm so sorry you had to join this club...the dues are too damned high.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your kind words, the creator of the poem knew exactly how to put the longing into words. I am grateful for being given permission to share them to share them. I'm glad they are of some help to you.
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ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this poem. I lost my husband to leukemia, in 3 hours it will be exactly one week ago. I had no idea what i was feeling was normal. i thought i was going crazy. Then I found a support group that gave me a name for some of the crazy mixed up feelings inside me. And you describe it soo well. It's like your inside my head. I cant count how many times i have thought of contacting some random stranger hoping it would help the feelings subside.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing this, it truly helped me.
Thank you for putting into words what so many of us who have lost a spouse have felt. I wish I had the courage to do an anonymous encounter. But damn, my whole boy is hungry, and it is why I avoid watching movies with romantic or sexual scenes: it is too painful to watch, and leaves me frustrated.
ReplyDeleteThank you for this. Skin hunger hit me so powerfully that I entered into a relationship that was ill-advised, in order to keep from the stranger sex bar scene.
ReplyDelete