Tickle torture. That’s what I kept reminiscing about after watching the recently-released film version of the children’s book classic “Where the Wild Things Are”.

The movie, like the book, features young Max and reflects on that scary precipice of mid-childhood - that point between being a wild little beast who throws a fit to try to get what you want and realizing the repercussions of your emotional outbursts and how your needs coexist with your parents’, your siblings’, your family’s needs. The film managed to be a lovely, touching portrait of one boy’s empathy epiphany and how much we can learn from our own internal “wild things”.

When Max suddenly bites his mother’s arm in a confused emotional moment (anger mixed with fear of being ignored or abandoned as family dynamics change), I remembered the way I used to torture my little sister with tickles when we were kids.

We were good-natured kids, my sister and me, rarely fighting and never hitting each other or anything like that. But tickling would start really innocently. We’d just be playing and I’d poke at her, a small tickle and then we’d both fall into a fit of giggles. Sometimes I’d stop after a few giggles, but there were other times when I’d push it a little too far, and what started as a tickle would become torturous to her. “Stop! Stop!” she’d shout between pained laughs. At least once I remember it all ending in tears.

Reliving those times as an adult watching a movie, I realized how quickly we can slip from being playful to being hurtful. But how can something as simple and innocent as tickling become violent? And is it possible to tickle ourselves?

via Medbroadcast: Some researchers think of tickle as a kind of “play fighting,” a safe, lighthearted way to learn how to defend ourselves. Others believe that the smiles and laughter you get from tickling are different from the smiles and laughter you get from a funny joke or a happy moment. Could those giggles and grins be more like nervous laughter or express submission to a superior? This seems possible, since most of us know the feeling of being tickled until it hurts, until we have to scream “Uncle!”

Now that we’re older, my sis and I have talked and laughed about tickle torture, and I don’t think I traumatized her too deeply. I recall the spontaneous desire to tickle seemed to spring from a place of love and affection. (As one character in “Where the Wild Things Are” says to another, “I’ll eat you up, I love you so.”) But maybe I was working through some subconscious big sister dominance issues. Or maybe we were both learning more about self-defense and conflict, how we stand up against a threat, how we react to a surprise attack.

It seems surprise is at the heart of the self-tickle issue, too:

via Medbroadcast: As to why we can’t tickle ourselves, it may be because our brain is simply so smart and responsive. When someone else tickles us, our brain just doesn’t have a chance to plan for a calm, measured response. Instead, most of us go into ticklish reflex-mode - giggling, laughing, twitching, and eventually pulling away like we’re actually in pain. But when we try to tickle ourselves, it is thought that a part of the brain, predicts the action and plans ahead for it.

Keep reading to learn more about the interesting theories that “tickle research” has turned up about brain disorders, including schizophrenia …

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