Something T and I have "dealt with" to some extent is my shame surrounding maternal touch and touch in general. We have established several things regarding this subject:

1. That my mother was not very affectionate with me at all.
2. That my mother had a strange reaction to my need for this affection when I was 10 years old.
3. That she is a person who does not like to be touched very much at all, for whatever reason.
4. That she had an odd fear that I would be sexually molested as a teenager.

There are things I still wonder about at times related to this:

1. Am I really bisexual or is the bisexuality an "adult" way of trying to get that need met?
2. Am I actually a lesbian because I enjoy sex with a woman more than with a man?
3. How do I get my touch needs met with most of the people I interact with are not demonstrative.

Today, I had a thought come out of the blue. I realize that I am more comfortable and accepting when a male touches me vs a female in most situations. I had a flash of a memory of being held by my dad. My dad and my grandfather were both demonstrative to me. One grandmother was demonstrative and the other was not. So all the men in my life wanted to be affectionate, but I only had one woman in my life that seemed to want to touch me.

Before our most recent rupture, I craved maternal touch from T. At this point post-rupture, I know I would still like it if I received this from her, although I don't crave it per se.

I asked T how to meet one's own touch needs. She told me that when she was upset, what she did most often was brush her hair over and over again. She then told me one thing she does when she is very upset is that she locks herself in her bedroom with her iPod and sings to the top of her lungs because music pervasively speaks to her (it does me as well). She also suggested a warm bath.

She asked me why my H didn't meet my needs. I plan to demonstrate Tuesday what it is like when he touches me (not sexually). He is quite non-demonstrative. If I grab his hand to hold, he keeps his hand slack. He is quite large and 8 inches taller than me. He also has short limbs; when he hugs me, it is like a t-rex (or think Barney ).

The other answer is that for the last 5 years, I have not been able to tolerate being in a physically intimate relationship. I am fortunate that H is able to tolerate this from me. It is an ultimate form of love and words fail me when I try to describe it. I trust him implicitly and without hesitation; however, I feel like the world's worst wife.

Any thoughts on the above? I know others struggle with the same shame from previous posts on the subject. Thank you.