He Never Left Me

Before I could even spell the word "attracted" or had learned its meaning, I was attracted to women. When I say women, I mean women, not girls. I was six years old, and it was my first-grade teacher. My six-year-old brain could not figure out why I always wanted to be near her. Why being near her made my stomach feel weird but in a good way, my first remembered experience with "butterflies." Why I obsessively thought about her all the time. Why I daydreamed about kissing her the way I had seen men and women kissing one another.
Though I could not really comprehend it before I had any knowledge of sex, it followed suit that I felt the same way about subsequent teachers, as well as older female students and other women who were in some way an influence on my life. I had celebrity crushes as well, a few guys, but mostly women. I never told anyone about the female crushes, and I hung posters of the males on my bedroom walls to prevent suspicion.
I had a highly active imagination, and my thought life was consumed with confusing feelings for women that I was not sure what to do with; but some part of me felt it was wrong, so I hid those thoughts and feelings and never told anyone about what I was feeling and thinking, it seemed all the time.
As a young person, and being raised in the old-fashioned Pentecostal church, there was no one I felt safe in sharing any of those thoughts and feelings with. I just knew there was no one I could confide in who would not see me as disgusting, and they would only tell me what I had heard in churches my whole life, that I was a horrible sinner for my thoughts and was headed straight to hell.
For as long as I had been going to church, the only thing I had ever heard about people with these feelings were derogatory comments and slurs, snide jokes and negative connotations, and that anyone who had ever had a thought like that would never be allowed into heaven. Why on earth would I share what I was feeling? At a very young age, I already knew what Christians thought of people who had feelings and thoughts like I did, so I kept all of that hidden deep down inside and went to great lengths to make sure no one would ever find out my secret.
As a result of having to hide how I felt, and who I was, I had to learn to lie at a young age. The first time I remember lying about my sexual orientation was when I was twelve years old. My mom and I were chatting while she was putting away laundry, I was sitting on her bed. I bet she remembers this as well. I became quiet. I wanted to tell her, and I believe now that I absolutely could have without judgement, and that she would still have loved me just the same; but with Satan already well established in my brain and in my ear, I was also terrified that she would not. I may have said I wanted to tell her something, I do not remember for sure.
When I was quiet for a few moments, my mom asked me, "Do you like girls instead of boys?" I panicked, completely freaking out internally. How did she know exactly what I was thinking? I sat there and lied right through my teeth because I was so fearful of her disapproval. Afraid it would make her see me differently, in a bad way. I was afraid she would tell my dad and he would also love me less in some way. I said, "No." Then quickly added, "I thought maybe I did, but I don't."
I know my mom knew. I know she knew for a long time. I am grateful that God showed her at an early age, but I sure did put her through it for too many years. I know it was her prayers, and the prayers of other family and loved ones, that brought me back to my faith in my early fifties.
Starting as young as I can remember, and throughout my life, any sign of physical affection like hugging, touching my arm or shoulder, rubbing my back, playing with my hair, always felt so soothing to me. Especially from women. Physical affection in general always elevated my mood, it still does, and it made me crave more.
I know some of you are reading this, trying to remember if you have ever touched my back or arm offhandedly, and if so, was I attracted to you? Well, don't worry too much about it, if I never openly flirted with you or told you outright that I had feelings for you that went beyond platonic, you are safe.
Affection has never been about sex or feeling anything inappropriate when being touched or hugged. Affection has always made me feel loved and cared about. And without it, I did not, and do not, feel loved or cared about. No negligence on the part of anyone else, that is just how my brain is wired, I suppose. The lack of affection for any amount of time causes my mood to drop drastically and makes me feel like I am insignificant in some way.
Physical affection was, and still is at times, like a drug to me. I need it to feel happy, loved, and cared for. I feel like I need it to survive sometimes (which is a whole therapy session in itself), but I only crave it from those I am close to as I get older. Hugs, however, are still so therapeutic for me. I admit that I am a serial hugger, and I frequently have to be mindful that not everyone is, or I would be hugging everyone I make eye contact with.