The Pandemic, Intimacy, and the Struggle to Connect
It’s no secret that the pandemic changed everything, but I don’t think people fully grasp how much it affected the way we connect—emotionally, socially, and physically. Suddenly intimacy wasn’t something we could take for granted anymore. Think about it: before, touching, hugging, and leaning in close to talk were natural parts of life. Overnight, those everyday moments became potential risks. For a while it felt like we had to relearn what it meant to be close to someone. And, of course, I’ve always had a complicated relationship with touch because of my sensory sensitivities.
It’s ironic, really. I make a living by touching people, but I’m not always comfortable being touched myself. Still, even I felt the impact. Now that life is returning to something more normal, I see how these changes show up in my clients—and, honestly, in myself too.
When the lockdowns hit, we all had to adjust in ways we weren’t prepared for. Life didn’t just slow down; for many, it came to a standstill. Isolation became the new normal, whether we liked it or not. A lot of people struggled with that feeling of missing out on something essential. Suddenly, physical contact—the very thing that used to bring comfort—was something to avoid. Family gatherings were postponed, date nights canceled, even casual moments like brushing by someone in the grocery store vanished. We had to find a way to live without those little moments of connection.
At first, that didn’t bother me much. Being on the spectrum, I’ve always preferred to keep some distance. But as time passed, I started to miss those small, grounding interactions—the ones that didn’t overwhelm me but reminded me that I was still part of the world. It was strange to realize I needed something I’d always thought I could do without.
As the world began to open back up, I noticed changes in my clients, too. It wasn’t just that they came in with stiff muscles from too much time hunched over computers or lounging around at home; there was something deeper happening.
Some of them seemed starved for touch, responding to my hands with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. It was as though they were trying to make up for lost time, absorbing every bit of physical connection they could. The satisfaction that usually came after a session was more profound, almost urgent.
Then there were the clients who had become even more closed off. They held their bodies stiff and guarded, as though the act of letting someone touch them felt uncomfortable, even unnatural. The emotional walls they’d built during the pandemic were still standing, and I had to work slowly to get through.
One of my regular clients shared how strange it felt to be hugged by a friend after months of isolation. A simple hug—something that used to be second nature—now felt foreign to them. They described it as both comforting and unsettling, as if their body didn’t quite know how to respond. It’s funny, in a sad way, how quickly we lose touch with the things that once felt so natural. During their massage, I could feel the same hesitation in their body. The tension didn’t melt away as easily as it used to; it took time for them to relax, almost as though they had forgotten how to let go and trust someone’s touch.
This isn’t an isolated experience either. I see it in many clients these days. The pandemic has left an imprint on us, and it’s not something that fades quickly, even as life returns to normal. The pandemic has changed us all, especially when it comes to how we connect with others.
Some clients come in desperate for touch, trying to fill the void left by months of isolation. There’s an urgency in the way they respond, like they can’t get enough physical contact. Then there are those who are still holding back, uncertain of how to let someone in. The walls they built to protect themselves during the pandemic haven’t come down easily. For them, I find myself moving slower, easing them back into the experience of being touched, helping them remember that it’s okay to reconnect.
For me, this has been a learning process too. Intimacy has always been a little tricky for me, but the pandemic shifted my understanding of what it means to be close to someone. I’ve realized that my role as a masseuse goes beyond just relaxing tense muscles; it’s about helping people reconnect—with themselves and others. I can feel the difference in my work.
I’m not just working out the physical tension in my clients’ bodies; I’m helping them rediscover what it means to feel safe again, to trust in the power of human touch. It’s been a challenging time for all of us, but I’ve learned that rebuilding connection takes time. It’s a slow process, but it’s worth it. And I’m honoured to be part of that journey, one gentle touch at a time.