A Hand-Kissing Story

An obsession with hand kissing arose.

This came from a safely sexual story from my younger days - where I learned the “proper” way to kiss a woman’s hand.  The original story can’t be written, as it requires sound effects and quirky performance gestures - if there’s significant interest, I’ll share a video of the story - but the important thing was that this story was just crude enough to get a gasp, but not usually offend anyone.

But the “Hand Kissing” story isn’t important - what is important was my obsession with it - I would kiss every hand that was extended, and this leading to the tale.  It was simply what I did, and if I was being introduced to anyone these actions could be expected.  Now, I did master this storytelling - having told it well over 1,000 times - but my insistence on repeating the words with consistent verbal cadences and the identical punchline began to annoy the people I was around, especially those who spent any amount moderately significant amount of time with me.

For those who were new to the story, it usually got a laugh, and what I enjoyed was the repetition of situation and response - I had a joke I could tell - tell it well - and it would always get a reaction, usually a laugh.  For this reason, the tale refused to leave my introductory repertoire for more than a decade - I can still share the story, and occasionally do, but I deploy far more desecration when choosing a moment to talk.  The problem was that the joke became tired far quicker than I became tired of telling it.  The first 10, 20, or even a hundred times it was cute, but over time it became the one hit wonder that a rock band refuses to dismiss - the story grew lame.

Mixed feelings come up over this memory.  In its own way, the story was an important part of my recovery - it provided an outlet through which I got a response and it demonstrated my creativity.  Simultaneously, it became a crutch - a consistent trope I could return to without fear of failing - an oral safety net. 

This may have been an early hinting at my desire to embrace storytelling as my art form, but regardless, the story wore out, becoming an annoyance to those around me instead of an enjoyment.  My own reaction became fixed and rehearsed instead of a spontaneous mass of giggles.

Medical research and practice tells us that routines are important in the healing process - in brain injury, consistency helps a survivor know what to expect.  In this entry, however, what I suggest is that there should be caution about creating a reliance on - for lack of a better word - sameness.  Life is an event that insists on content adaptation to change, and creating a necessity for consistency can drape this thrilling experience with dull routine.  That’s what my “Hand Kissing” story became - a routine that lacked a way to discover something new.

As I wrote above, I have mixed feelings about this routine - in its original form, it was novel, interesting, and possibly an help in my recovery, but it became old - something I relied on instead of allowing new creativity to flourish.  The necessity of balance between routine and the new is something I would appreciate knowing more about - if you have any suggestions of studies or articles that address this question, please post and pass them along.  Also, any routines for you - as a help or a hinderance - I would appreciate hearing about them. 


An important prat of healing is sharing - so let’s hear your experience.  Post below!