Tickling: Bad. Kitten Love: Good.
Jun. 9th, 2008 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brightrosefoxI came across several articles and advice columns that debated on whether or not excessive tickling -- to the point where you're crying and begging and the tickler won't stop because he or she thinks it's funny -- is abusive. Personally? Yeah, I think it is abusive.
When I make friends, one of the first things I tell them regarding pet peeves is that I hate being tickled. I don't think it's fun, or cute. It hurts me. Yes. It is extremely painful. It scares me. If I ask someone to stop tickling me and they don't, I tend to strike out, to get violent. If the person is holding me down in such a way that I cannot struggle, cannot defend myself, cannot strike back, I call that a form of abuse. Same goes for tummy raspberries. I have scars all across the skin of my abdomen. Even a light touch causes an intense reaction. My husband loves to give me tummy raspberries and doesn't always listen when I scream, because I actually sound like I'm laughing. Must be fun, right? Laughter being the only reflex one can have when being tickled, for some gods-forsaken reason.
For me, tickling is not fun. It's not amusing, it's not a joke, it's not a game; and I just wish to gods that people would take me seriously when I ask them not to tickle me. I've been told to lighten up, that I'm overreacting, but this is a serious thing for me. Tickling hurts me. I don't care who you are, I don't want to be tickled, not for any reason, at any time. And I will do my best to cause damage and not apologize.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system:
I spent most of yesterday afternoon playing with Luna in the wheelchair. At first, she perched on the back of the chair, purring while I scritched her head and ears and chin. Then she moved to the arm of the chair, and then to my lap, arching up to nuzzle my face and nibble and lick my nose. She kept trying to hop up onto my laptop keyboard, but that's the nice thing about a wheelchair, being able to wheel away so she can't reach. Eventually she jumped to the couch and watched me type for an hour. Then I gave her some Greenies.
When I make friends, one of the first things I tell them regarding pet peeves is that I hate being tickled. I don't think it's fun, or cute. It hurts me. Yes. It is extremely painful. It scares me. If I ask someone to stop tickling me and they don't, I tend to strike out, to get violent. If the person is holding me down in such a way that I cannot struggle, cannot defend myself, cannot strike back, I call that a form of abuse. Same goes for tummy raspberries. I have scars all across the skin of my abdomen. Even a light touch causes an intense reaction. My husband loves to give me tummy raspberries and doesn't always listen when I scream, because I actually sound like I'm laughing. Must be fun, right? Laughter being the only reflex one can have when being tickled, for some gods-forsaken reason.
For me, tickling is not fun. It's not amusing, it's not a joke, it's not a game; and I just wish to gods that people would take me seriously when I ask them not to tickle me. I've been told to lighten up, that I'm overreacting, but this is a serious thing for me. Tickling hurts me. I don't care who you are, I don't want to be tickled, not for any reason, at any time. And I will do my best to cause damage and not apologize.
Now that I've gotten that out of my system:
I spent most of yesterday afternoon playing with Luna in the wheelchair. At first, she perched on the back of the chair, purring while I scritched her head and ears and chin. Then she moved to the arm of the chair, and then to my lap, arching up to nuzzle my face and nibble and lick my nose. She kept trying to hop up onto my laptop keyboard, but that's the nice thing about a wheelchair, being able to wheel away so she can't reach. Eventually she jumped to the couch and watched me type for an hour. Then I gave her some Greenies.
