The other day a client told me, in tears, that no one had truly hugged her in years. I do not mean one of those polite hugs, given without really arriving. She spoke of a real hug, the kind that holds.
It stayed with me. Because I believe it is more common than it seems. We go so busy, so tangled in our own affairs, that real contact with another person has become a luxury.
A real hug does not judge. It does not ask what you have done, does not demand that you be fine, does not need you to explain anything. It only says: I am here, I will hold with you, you are not alone.
I have learned that hugging well is almost a therapeutic technique. It requires presence, requires letting go of your own hurry, requires staying as long as necessary. A short hug is a greeting. A long hug is a home.
Today I want to remember that you do not have to be a therapist to offer that. A hug, a hand, a wordless presence. Sometimes it is all someone needs to feel at home.
And when there is no one to hug us, we can learn to hug ourselves. With the same tenderness, with the same lack of judgement.