The Child Who Didn't Like Hugs: A Story of Sensory Sensitivity and
Silent Struggles
In a quiet neighborhood, a mother brought her 12-year-old child to a mental health center. The mother,
gentle but visibly anxious, had carried the weight of unanswered questions for years. "My child doesn't
like being touched," she said. "Even as a baby—she would cry if anyone tried to hug her too long. She
prefers to play alone and doesn’t respond when spoken to. And now… school has become a daily
challenge."
The journey to that clinic had been a long one—starting not with school troubles, but far earlier, right
from birth.
A Beginning Marked by Delays
The child was born full-term in a hospital, but the delivery wasn’t smooth. The umbilical cord had been
tangled around her leg—an early sign that this child’s journey might not be an easy one. She weighed a
healthy 3 kilograms at birth, but developmental milestones began to drift off track as the months
passed.
She didn’t walk until after age two. While other children were scribbling with crayons and pointing at
body parts in books, she was still watching silently from the sidelines. Her fine motor skills were slow
to develop. Her mother remembers vividly how she would line up toys rather than play with them.
There was no pretend tea party, no shared giggles with friends.
Social milestones were delayed too. The early smiles, the recognition of her mother's face, the clinging
to her when strangers approached—all those milestones came late or, at times, never came at all.
The School Years: Isolation in a Crowd
When she started school, her teachers noticed that she often drifted off mid-task. Her attention would
flicker away like a candle in the wind. She didn’t raise her hand in class. She didn’t play during recess.
Other children reached out—some curious, some kind—but she avoided them. It wasn’t shyness; it was
something deeper.
She couldn’t keep up with her peers in reading or writing. Letters didn’t stay straight on the page.
Words seemed to float away. Special education services were eventually provided, but her progress
remained slow. Not because she wasn’t intelligent, but because her mind processed the world
differently.
At home, she would only eat very specific types of food—soft, pulpy textures. Anything crunchy or
mixed-texture was met with refusal or distress. Haircuts were traumatic. Even her mother’s affectionate
touch was sometimes too much.
A Family’s Quiet Struggles
The mother’s own journey had not been easy. She had struggled with anxiety and depression, and her
own father had lived with mental illness, though no formal diagnosis was ever made. These emotional
