How will I handle weeks without physical touch?

Tips for those of us isolating in true isolation.

Q: Physical touch is my love language, but I live alone and there is no. One. To. Touch. I haven’t hugged anyone in weeks. How am I going to get through weeks — or months — of this?

A: Ugh. Great question.

First thing’s first: you are allowed to say — and think — that this sucks. It totally sucks. Nobody likes this pandemic and it’s awful.

Nobody knows how long our social restrictions will last, but it could realistically be several months.

It’s a fine line to walk between being realistic and actively stressing yourself out. But take a moment to take that in: this could, truly, be awhile. We are in for the long haul, and it’s going to be challenging — and missing out on our connections to loved ones is a huge part of the struggle.

There may not be much you have control over, but you can start to think about how to get your touch needs met by the only person still available to you — you.

Touch yourself. And I’m not (necessarily) talking about your genitals. Indeed, we tend to sexualize any kind of sex and sensuality — possibly because we are generally so starved of nurturing, non-sexual touch. It may even feel a little strange to think about giving yourself the kind of physical comfort that a dear friend usually does. However, now could be an excellent time to create a practice of nurturing self-touch.

A few ways to give yourself some loving, comfy physical affection:

Put on fluffy socks and rub your feet together.

Take a bath.

Give yourself a hand massage.

Light some damn candles and massage lotion into your entire body.

Literally wrap yourself in as big a bear hug as you can.

If it sounds like I’m basically setting you up to jerk off— hey, why not? BUT as I said— contrary to dominant social discourse — touching your own body does not have to end in masturbation. One of the perks of being alone is that nobody has to know what you’re up to. That means you can go on ahead and stream Enya in a dim room, lather up your arms and legs, then go drink a Diet Coke and play Animal Crossing for three hours and no. One. Needs. To. Know.

Being touched is not the same as being touched by others, but it can still be a wonderful, loving gift we give to ourselves.

Find ways to create intimacy. You mentioned that touch is your love language, which suggests to me that it is your preferred gateway to connection.

Are there other ways to experience intimacy with the people you love? While actual touch may be a part of what you miss, is it possible there are other pieces that can be (at least partially recreated)?

Maybe it would feel good to FaceTime a friend from a slightly more intimate or vulnerable place, like snuggled up in bed or while soaking in the tub.

How about starting a phone call by asking for what you need and saying, “I am craving physical contact! Can we take a second to hug ourselves and pretend like we’re together?”

Consider if there are some creative ways you can try to get that same level of connection with your pals without the actual touch.

Remember that this isn’t forever. I know this doesn’t solve your problem and may not be comforting to hear. But, given our current state of affairs — totally unprecedented global pandemic — it is truly important to remember.

It may be a long time until you get to hold your people close. You may feel sad and angry and anxious and all the possible feelings. But eventually — someday — this crisis will die down and we will be able to hug again.

When that finally happens, hold your people close and enjoy every second.