It was one of those days; I just needed a hug. Actually, I needed a hug and a shoulder to cry (perhaps wail) on. It was Memorial Day, and I had to work. It was the 13th day, straight in a row, that I was scheduled to work from 7 am to about 9 pm. I was so exhausted that when my boss let me go early at lunchtime, I almost thought I was hearing imaginary sentences drift out of his mouth.
I jumped in my car and sped home, hoping to make the family cookout. I was so excited to have a few hours off work, and I walked in the back door of my parents home to be welcomed by cool air conditioning and the smell of meatballs – a wonderful greeting. Unfortunately, my mom wasn’t in the greatest of moods. We started arguing about my room that wasn’t clean, my huge pile of laundry that I hadn’t had the time to get to, and the fact that guests were coming in less than an hour and she had no time to get the house in order. The last thing she yelled was, “you don’t ever do anything around this house.” It must have been the long hours I had been working, or maybe the 90+ degree weather I was working in (I’m a kayak and bike tour guide and instructor for Blackwater Paddle and Pedal Adventures on the Chesapeake) that made me lose sense to my age, bringing me to a ball on the floor in child-like sobs. Then mom told me I was being dramatic. I stormed out of the house as my dad was walking in, the most confused look on my face. I sat in the driveway for 15 minutes, sulking about how my mom just didn’t understand how hard I was working in order to pay off my student loans. I was so proud of myself, and she was unhappy. There were no words she could offer me at that point to make things better. Instead, when she came outside, she gave me an even better apology. She gave me a hug. No words were spoken, and immediately, all was forgiven – on both parts.
As reported by McCornack (2009), the code representative through touch, within nonverbal communication, called haptics, regulates, for us what my (above) hug means. My mom knew exactly where, when, and how to console me. Her hug represented, to me, a verbal apology. What she expressed to me, in the moment, was what words attempt to convey. Thinking about this type of expression, I’m most decided that it is a part of the every-day interaction – especially in my situation a loving and all-knowing interaction – that is indescribable but undoubted type of communication. It allows the mysterious but relatable mother-daughter relationship to exist.
In what way does touch effect your life?
Think about an emotion experienced, past the initial reaction: What did this form of nonverbal communication express?
